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// 59 Taking the Nightmare out of Nightmare Moon 
// Story: Moonie shorts [Filly Nightmare Moon] 
// by Eighth 
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	Your body creaks and aches as you rise from your bed like it’s as decrepit as a haunted house. As you rub your eyes to ease the suitcases hanging there, you stare out the window to see the tiniest glow of the sun has peered over the horizon. With a defeated sigh you climb out of bed after suffering another near sleepless night. 
Trixie’s snores can be heard loudly now as you step into the bathroom and begin the morning ritual much earlier than usual. Though, lately it feels like the usual time. You splash your face with water when a sudden thump from Moonie’s room pulls your attention. With the quietest tip-toes to ensure nobody is woken, you open her door to see an empty bed.
“Moonie?” You whisper.
A little silhouette of head pops up on the opposite side of the bed.
“What?”
“Why are you up?”
Your voice is coarse and groggy as every sentence seems to take the wind out of you while your throat pleads for water.
“Queen of the night, remember?”
“It’s morning.”
Moonie pauses as she tries to figure out an excuse to ensure she can’t get in trouble. As she stalls you wearily lean on the door frame, letting out a soft sigh.
“Sir Bearington had nightmares.”
“Right. Well, are you coming to work with me today?”
“You’re letting me choose?”
Moonie leaps up onto the bed and even with the low light, you can see the bewildered look in her bright eyes. It makes a lot of sense her cutie mark is related to the night when you could compare her eyes to small, twinkling stars right now and her mane glimmers proudly behind her like a painter’s canvas.
“Mhm,” you grunt.
Moonie turns around to look at something that’s where she was hiding earlier, then glances back to you.
“I’ll need to think about it.”
You stand back up and wander out to the kitchen to get that glass of water. Then out of a strange boredom brought on by exhaustion, you sit at the kitchen table and scribble on a piece of paper. Not drawing or writing anything in particular, just random shapes and scribbles. After a while you kind of play that game folks usually do with clouds and try to make out rough guess of what you’ve scribbled.
“What are you up to?” Moonie asks as she steps into the kitchen and opens the fridge door just to stare at its contents.
“Nothing really,” you reply as you scrunch up the paper and toss it.
“I nearly forgot, but it’s the weekend.”
Only now did you decide to glance at the calendar you have hanging on the fridge door to see she’s right. No work today.
“Guess it is. Thanks.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Can’t… In fact, I’ve been having trouble for a few days now.”
“Nightmares?” asks Moonie in a nonchalant tone as she takes a sip from the milk carton.
“Don’t think so. I had nightmares once but I don’t recall if I even dreamed at all the other nights.”
“Everyone dreams. Every night. They often have multiple dreams, only you don’t remember them all.”
You glare at Moonie with tired eyes as she is about to take another sip from the carton. With a smirk, she magics over a two glasses and pours the milk instead.
“That’s better.”
She takes a seat opposite you and places the second glass in front of you. Then the two of you sit there in silence for a while drinking milk. Moonie then downs the last bit of her milk and then stares you down.
“Tell no one.”
“Tell no one what?”
“Just promise.”
“Moonie,” you sigh exasperatedly as you bury your face into the palm of your hand, “I’m too tired to do this.”
Moonie groans at you and uses her magic to drag you along with her.
“I am Nightmare Moon, Queen of the Night and former denizen of Princess Luna herself. If there’s one thing I know--”
She cuts herself off as she leaps up onto your bed. Without protest, you follow suit only by falling over like a collapsing tree. The shockwave sends Moonie into the air a bit, startling her enough to elicit a laugh.
“Get some rest, okay?”
You lie your head on the mattress, resigning the energy to move up onto a pillow. Moonie decides to curl up against your head.
“Goodnight Anon,” Moonie peacefully mutters.
 You open your mouth to protest when a chorus of thumps rings in your ears. It’s her heartbeat and it’s beating such a soothing tune that you let go of any idea of protest. Instead you listen closely with your eyes shut so each pounding beat can be heard over a slowing breath as you wearily drift to sleep.
“Goodnight, and thank you,” you mumble back.