//------------------------------// // His Golden Eyes // Story: Becoming Chaos // by LemonDrizzle //------------------------------// His Golden Eyes The six vibrant, colourful, restored ponies rose into the air but he didn't care. The leader, the bright purple egghead known as Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes, shining bright with magic but he didn't care. The rainbow erupted upwards and descended towards him but he didn't care. Nor did he care when he felt the glowing magical bolt impact. Nor did he care when he felt the stone creeping up his form. Nor did he care when he felt the stone reach his eyes, his mind and then, finally, his horns. The stone statue of Discord, god of chaos and lord of mischief hit the now grassy green ground with a hollow thud, cheers erupting around the town over his defeat but he didn't care. He had already won. [.] He awoke in a cold sweat, eyes blasting open, mouth opening in a silent scream and body bolting forward to knock the sweat soaked covers off of his form as he sat up suddenly in bed, clawing at the covers in terror. It was the same nightmare as before, as it had been for the previous days- no – the previous weeks. Always it would wake him, always early, always scared, always alone. The mismatched monster with the cruel, laughing golden eyes would watch him, taunt him and then, when it drew closer and closer, when he could feel its hot breath on his face, he would wake up. Tonight had been different though, it had seemed to pass through him before he bolted awake, before he could escape from the horror of his dreams. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, his rapid, heavy, panting breaths began to die down to be replaced by shaky, shallow breaths, sweat freezing and chilling him to his very core as he allowed his hands to cease their iron grip on the bed and his eyes to stop vainly searching the room. There had been some nights, some nights were it had been so bad that he had begun to hallucinate strange goings on. From the movement of his bedroom T.V remote to a pair of glowing golden eyes resting in the corner of his room. The worst though, the very thing that had left him scared to return to his apartment, had been the laughter. The dark, humorous yet sinister laughter that had rung around his home, sending him running from his dark apartment with terror in his heart. His eyes glanced at the red digital alarm clock on his small, slightly worn bedside table, before his eyes rolled around his head as he read the time. Three in the morning, his usual wakeup time nowadays, much to his chagrin. His room was dark, all lights cut off, the sun still hidden deftly behind the horizon, the moon and the feeble light from street-lights his only source of vision in the gloomy darkness. On his first night of the horrible, vomit inducing nightmares he had simply stood up and shrugged off its effects, returning back to slumber. On the second night, he had lain awake for an hour desperately trying to get back to sleep. The third night had heralded the glowing, golden eyes, dispelling all hopes and dreams of a good nights sleep. By the seventh night, trying to fall back to sleep had been abandoned, even moving from the bed was a task, fear and terror often freezing his limbs. With a loud sigh, he rolled out of his damp, chilled bed and hit the darkened rug floor with a slight thud, groaning somewhat as he clambered back to his feet, beginning his short journey to the interlocking bathroom. He had spoken to many doctors, nurses, psychiatrists and even the occasional mentally ill patient about such an occurrence. Each one had selected a different form of treatment, be it medicines or herbs, needles or incense. None of them had worked, all had failed in preventing the night terrors. No matter how much he hoped, how much he prayed for freedom, that golden eyed, sharp toothed, collaboration of monsters would always return and each time it did, it would get closer and closer to him. Feeling his feet change from the soft, foamy texture of his bedroom rug to the cold, hard texture of his bathroom tiles he groped for the thin, white string that connected to his light, grasping it and yanking down on it to flood the room with a much needed glow. Sometimes, only on rare occasions, that monstrosity, that beast, that dark, twisted horror would call to him in his dreams, would whisper and murmur tales to him, speeches and statements that would chill his blood. On the very first night it had smiled and smirked evilly, muttering something barely coherent that seemed to have something to do with celestial and harmony. The eighth night had heralded it actually speaking to him, a corrupted chuckled hello greeting the horrified, yet dreaming humans ears, the voice deep yet smooth like a serpent. The twelfth night had been the worst, the beast proclaiming that it had something nasty in store for someone called Celestia and that he, the terrified human, would be a key role. From then on the torturous spirit had fallen silent, merely smirking and smiling at the human. He blinked the blinding, blitzing yellow light from his eyes as he staggered into the bathroom with heavy, laden footsteps that slapped along the cold, white tiles. The bathroom itself was a cramped, dingy looking room with cold, white, cracked tiles coating the floor and the walls, a stained white and mottled brown ceiling hanging high above. The room had a single porcelain toilet, a running, dripping set of taps plopping water into a draining sink. A black, partially moulded bathtub with a rusted shower head sat along the side of the bathroom like a silent watchmen. A small, glass cabinet that doubled as a mirror hung above the sink, insides filled with toothpaste, deodorant, razors and some medication that was “guaranteed” to work. His family had of course been around to attempt to help him through what personal hell he was going through, his hefty group of friends there to help him as well, to no avail. He had told them that he was cured, that he was fine once more. He had told them not to worry, that maybe it was just stress from his rather boring maths teacher job and they had, eventually, believed him and allowed him to send them off, wishing them safe journeys. All for the better, he did not want his friends, nor his family to worry about him. It was just a short time thing, something that simply needed to be ignored for long enough for it to leave. Or so he hoped. He stumbled over to the sink, rubbing his eyes blearily trying to get rid of the excess sleep, his twin, slate grey orbs burning in their sockets as though someone had been rubbing them for hours. With a loud grunt, he leaned over the sink and splashed a copious amount of water on his face, feeling the droplets trickling down his face and revitalizing him with their cold, crispness. He allowed himself a small smile as he felt the cold water run down his face and drip into the sink with a gurgle, the cold water washing away the drowsiness like a message in the sand at a beach. His smile suddenly faltered with a flicker of panic, something rather sharp and rather large poking into the bottom of his lip drawing his attention rather swiftly from the relaxing chill of the water, his stomach suddenly gurgling and groaning as he pushed himself away from the sink, feeling around the inside of his mouth with his tongue. With widening, panicked, scared eyes he began to hurry back towards the sink to investigate before a noise stopped him. It was quiet at first, originating from somewhere in the apartment, somewhere undistinguishable but definitely, certainly somewhere close. It took ten long, dragging seconds for the sound to reach a volume where it was coherent, where the noise and the location could be distinguished by the now sweating, nervous, heart-pumping human. It was the deep, dark sound of cold laughter, a sinister chuckle that the human had heard before, the sound coming from his bedroom, shrouded in shadows so that only the bathroom light illuminated bed was able to be seen. The noise of cackling, malicious laughter grew louder and louder until it echoed around the humans mind, the terrified, horrified, nearly breaking down figure now scrabbling backwards as far away from the bedroom as possible, slipping into the bathtub with a startled yelp, eyes still burning and mouth opening and closing in a silent scream. His naked arms scrabbled along the dirt smeared, grimy bathtub as he pushed himself further against the wall as the laughter continued to grow in volume, the monster behind the laughter drawing closer and closer to the door, the frightened, partially paralysed human widening his eyes in horror, jibbering under his breath, desperately trying to convince himself that this was a dream, just another dream. But it's too real to be a dream, all too real. The laughter stopped as a cold, mischief, silky, purr of a voice cut through the terrorized atmosphere in the air like a knife, sliding through the ears of the mind boggled, spooked human. Shakily, with harsh, ragged breaths the quivering man rose in the bathtub, slipping for a second in its smooth interior before he gulped forcefully, throat ravaged like sandpaper. He spoke up in a stuttered, anxious voice that was filled to the brim with fear, still choosing to remain inside the filthy bathtub, shivering like a leaf in the breeze. “W-w-whose th...there?” All sounds stopped, the laughter, the rumble of the menacing voice, the dripping of the tap all turned silent. With a slow, cautious step, the still shaking, half naked man stepped out of the bathtub with a light thud, one foot and then the other connecting with the tiles with a small, almost unnoticeable noise. As soon as both feet touched the chilling floor a great gust of wind rushed over him, forcing his hair back and rippling his boxers, the strange, strong draft creaking the door open even further, causing the human to let out an involuntary whimper of fear. The voice returned quite suddenly, tickling the humans ear as if the owner were next to him, making the unfortunate man jump and shriek in horror. Don't you remember me? You only saw me moments ago. The human shivered, limbs frozen to the spot, tongue tied and throat desert dry. He did remember that voice, he remembered it well. It had been in his nightmares for weeks now, weeks of suffering and torment. Ah, so you do remember me? Good, good. The man forced himself to close his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing, attempting to block out all other noises as he quietly, but with gaining volume started to chant a mantra. “Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Jus-” The draft of heavy air rushed over him again, the sound whistling in his ears as a light chuckle split through his mind, shattering his concentration. Oh my, this is more then a dream my...friend. More then a dream indeed. The condescending, malicious tone of voice that the invisible spectre of creatures used was enough to ignite a spark of anger in the quaking human, though it was snuffed out moments later. Yet it was still enough to lend him strength to speak out in a strangely strong voice. “I don't believe you!” The humans eyes remained closed, breathing still ragged but beginning to return to normal, fresh sweat lacing his body as the disturbed movement of his body continued to rack his form. A fresh wave of cackling belched from directly in front of the human, causing him to open his eyes only to find the same white bathroom, the voice still whispering from directly in front of him. You don't have to believe me, just yourself. The voice seemed to emanate from all around him on the last word, causing the man to visibly tremble and gulp in terror, eyes widening more and more, pupils dilating but voice still rising up, shakily to continue the hopeless mantra. “Just a dream. Just a dream. Ju-” The same voice purred from directly behind him, slicing into his own mantra and stopping it suddenly. Don't believe me, eh? Why don't you see for yourself. With that cold, malevolent voice came a greater feeling of power, of rushing adrenaline and pulsing muscles. Slowly, without the guidance of his own free will, the human began to jerkily march towards the sink and the mirror that lay above it, breathing now returned to its disjointed form, pupils pinpricks and sweat pouring off of him. Still he repeated the mantra to himself. “Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dre-” His own detached, creeping, stiff legged movements came to a halt directly before the mirror, the cold, grey eyes of the human peering at the ground, refusing to look at the mirror, a veil of fear descending upon him for an unknown reason. Whatever happened, whatever was yet to happen he knew clearly that he must not- no- could not set his eyes on that mirror. The cold, serpentine and yet feline voice spoke up again in a seductive hiss, making the man’s flesh pimple and shiver. Look upon yourself human and say again that this is a dream. He closed his eyes tight, shaking his head slightly to clear these bad voices, these horrible visions. Look. He shook his head forcibly once more, refusing to acknowledge the voice fully, pinching his arm to force himself awake, only to experience the same sharp, piercing pain he would experience were he fully awake. Looooook. That voice, that deceitful, deceptive voice once more called to him, murmuring and speaking in a hushed whisper through his ears. The voice though, this time it was amplified, a thousand begging voices, a thousand voices asking, pleading with him to look up, to gaze into the mirror. Those trickling thoughts permeated his brain, tendrils of longing seeping into his mind, forcing his head to rise upwards like steam from a kettle, eyes still forced shut as if the gorgon Medusa were in the room. Looooooooooooook. His eyelids peeked open a mere crack, blurs dancing across the surface of the mirror as the sweat continued to fall, as the heart continued to pump, as the breath continued to gasp. Twin eyelids burst open suddenly, as if pulled by some mysterious, otherworldly force, pushing the dismayed human into staring into the mirror. What he saw there caused the breath to choke in his throat and his body and mind to freeze as like ice. There were no slate grey eyes, no thundercloud orbs, no twin pools of cold granite. Instead there were two twinkling, shining, illuminating, captivating golden eyes with crimson red pinpricks in the middle. He wanted to back away, to run and flee, to bolt from the room. He wanted to wake up in his bed, the nightmare remembered as a joke he could relay to friends. He wanted to blink or to shudder or to even twitch but he was paralysed to the spot, eyes only capable of staring at themselves in the mirror, both captivated and alarmed by what they saw. That is not all my friend. I have bestowed yet another gift on you. That same voice, now almost smirking with undisguised glee, spoke once more, a strength and power from beyond the world forcing the humans lips to part and the second, horrible gift to be revealed. A perfect, gleaming white set of teeth shone brightly from the gums and mouth of the man, sparkling slightly in the reflection of the mirror. The perfect image, the perfect smile was soon shattered like breaking glass however as the second gift bestowed by the hushed voice of the monster became clear. A single, sharp, jutting, pointed, elongated tooth spiralled downwards from the front roof of his mouth, extending outside of the jawline to hang like a stalactite in the air, sharpened edge gleaming in the pale bathroom light. The silent, still, almost serene atmosphere was torn apart and ripped to shreds as finally, finally, the human managed to regain control of his limbs. He began to stagger backwards, arms reaching up to grasp at his eyes and pull down his eyelids, to feel along the smooth edge of the new addition to his mouth. His hands continued to grapple and grope his face, his mouth opening and closing slowly, small squeaks escaping him before he began to mutter, quietly, tinged with agitation and fright. “No, no, no, no, no.” Laughter returned to the air, penetrating its musty, dark depths with stabs of sickening mirth and churning joy. The shadowy, darkened air swirled with fear and tension and disbelief, the man turning frail, feeble shades of white, new golden eyes widening, new tooth jutting out of his mouth as he opened it wide in a fierce rejection. The first resounding slap echoed throughout the lonely apartment as the human slammed his palm against his face, causing a great red welt that only strengthened the thick laughter. The seconds slap punctured the air once more, producing the same effect and yet he did not wake up, the monstrous giggles only increasing. The third slap was followed by a high, mind shattering cry of 'no', splitting the air into segments and yet only empowering the laugh. “No!” Crack “No!” Thwack “No!” Slam Still he did not wake. Still the laughter went on. Still the night drove onwards. Still the slaps resounded until his face was a red mess. Still he refused to accept. He was mad, insane, off the rocker. And he was changing. Once more that cold yet warm, seductive yet beastly voice danced around the air, the great breeze blasting once more through the open door, whipping his black hair around his face until it rested forward, shielding his eyes. This, my friend, is only the beginning. A/N: Well, I thought I'd try something a bit different this time instead of my usual Doctor Who stuff. This does have Discord in it, like my other fanfiction but I shall be portraying him in a more evil light here. Anyway, hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is always welcome. P.S This is my first Hie story, or near enough there, so don't expect this to be fantastic work.