The Nightmare Night Collection

by TooShyShy

The Statue

Scootaloo whirled around, training her flashlight at where she'd just come from.

Nopony there. Again.

She let out a long sigh. She was trying not to be jumpy, but that was easier said than done. For the first time, Scootaloo was glad she was alone. There was nopony there to see her freak out at every sound, nopony to laugh and roll their eyes every time she almost dropped her flashlight in alarm.

She kept going, aiming her flashlight at the path in front of her. The cemetery was a lot different under Luna's light. In the semi-darkness, every grave and statue looked like a malevolent shape looming in the corner of Scootaloo's vision. Fortunately, she's gotten used to this. Unfortunately, she still almost screamed at every sound. Scootaloo knew it was probably nothing—or at least it had been so far—but she always checked.

Scootaloo shook her head to clear it, remembering her mission. What was it Featherweight and the others had said? Something about the top of the hill? Oh, right. She was supposed to go to the top of the hill and place something at the base of the statue. Something small but important to her, an object she otherwise would have been reluctant to part with. They needed to know she'd actually been there and she'd taken the game seriously. According to Featherweight, all the other high schoolers had already done it.

Scootaloo looked around again, swinging her flashlight from side to side. She hadn't heard anything that time, but she was getting nervous again. She was certain she'd seen the groundskeeper skulking around earlier, hidden just barely out of sight by one of those statues. The fact he'd disappeared was worrying Scootaloo. Where had that shovel-wielding old stallion gone? Was he about to pop up and yell at her for being in the cemetery at night?

Nopony ever went to the top of the hill. It was the older part of the graveyard, about as old as Granny Smith. According to Featherweight, most of the graves were unmarked. The only thing of interest at the top of the hill was the statue. Nopony was sure which grave the statue was supposed to mark, only that it had been there since the early days of the cemetery. Scootaloo had never been up the hill before.

She looked around once more before starting up the hill. If that groundskeeper was waiting for her up there, she wasn't sure what to do. Flee? Drop the item she'd brought with her and leave? Scootaloo doubted her friends would believe her story of being scared off by a groundskeeper. They'd assume she chickened out. Scootaloo wasn't letting a reputation like that follow her until graduation.

“Deep breaths,” she mumbled around the flashlight. “Deep breaths, Scootaloo.”

She tried to breathe deeply as she walked, aware of the soft grass under her hooves. Scootaloo didn't allow herself to stop. She knew that if she paused, she'd likely stay frozen until Celestia raised the sun. Against her better judgment, she couldn't do that. If nothing else, she needed to at least see the statue.

A few minutes later, Scootaloo reached the top of the hill. She would have reached it sooner, but she'd been walking at a decreased pace the entire night. She told herself it was to avoid attracting the groundskeeper's attention, but actually she was just scared of making noise. Every time her hoof came down on a twig or puddle, Scootaloo would stifle a cry of alarm. Even the sound of her own hooves was far too loud in the silence.

She saw the unmarked graves first. There were about five or seven of them, spread out in a rather haphazard pattern. As she'd expected, none of them had names or dates. However, a few of them had pictures. The pictures told her nothing about the ponies buried there, but Scootaloo was comforted by them. At least somepony had cared enough to differentiate the slabs of stone, even though the names of the ponies were apparently of little importance. Scootaloo wondered if Granny Smith knew any of the ponies buried there, given she'd been alive back when Ponyville was founded. Maybe these were all Apple graves.

Shoving the morbid thought out of her head, Scootaloo tore her eyes away from the graves. Her gaze fell on something a few feet away, something she'd failed to notice before. It was what she'd come there for.

There was the statue. It was larger than Scootaloo expected, about two times bigger than a full-grown mare. The statue seemed to be of an Earth pony, her eyes shut and her mouth slightly open as if she were singing. She was wearing a crown of flowers and a long robe. Her body was covered in thick vines, although her face remained curiously untouched by nature. At a glance, the statue seemed to be made of marble.

Scootaloo approached it, sticking a hoof in her saddlebag and withdrawing her offering. A friendship bracelet Sweetie Belle had made for her as a birthday present. Scootaloo hated to part with it, but it was the most valuable thing she had on hoof when she agreed to play the game. As much as she treasured that bracelet, Sweetie Belle could always make her another one.

Scootaloo approached the statue. She was surprised to find the space before its hooves completely bare. Where were the other offerings? Had the groundskeeper taken them away? Scootaloo hoped not. She was going to be in big trouble if the groundskeeper was around.

She placed the flashlight on the ground. She didn't like not being able to see the statue's face, but she didn't have much of a choice. Scootaloo stuck the friendship bracelet in her mouth and moved a little closer to the statue. She wasn't sure whether she was supposed to place the bracelet at the statue's hooves or not. That was where the offerings were meant to go, but Scootaloo was staring to think creatively. Surely putting the bracelet on the statue would be several times braver, a testament to how much of a badflank she was. The schoolponies would talk about her for months.

Sighing, she dropped the bracelet at the statue's hooves. As much as she wanted to free herself from her reputation as a coward, Scootaloo wasn't going to risk damaging the statue. Breaking something that had been there for nearly a century before she was born wouldn't prove anything.

Finished at last, Scootaloo picked up her flashlight. Finally. Time to get the Tartarus out of there. Then she could brag to everypony about how brave she was. Sweetie Belle in particular would be impressed that Scootaloo actually went through with it. Scootaloo's heart pounded at the thought.

Scootaloo raised the flashlight. Had she heard something? A shuffle of hoofsteps just a few feet away? Was it the groundskeeper, skulking around like a creep? Finally ready to leave, Scootaloo didn't care too much about being seen. But she didn't want to be caught if she could help it.

She stopped, her beam aimed at a spot a foot or so behind the statue. There was an image in her brain, a still shot taken in that split second the beam had rested on the statue's face. Scootaloo let her mind roam over what she'd seen, processing the incredibly detailed picture she'd somehow saved in that split second before nonchalantly shifting the light away. It took a minute for Scootaloo to actually understand what she'd seen. With the sharp details still fresh in her head, she moved the beam back to focus on the statue's face.

She'd hastily registered it as a trick of the light, but Scootaloo couldn't deny what she was seeing. The statue's face had changed. Its eyes were no longer closed and its mouth was shut. It was staring at her, its once pleasant features contorted into something otherworldly and hideous. The sight of it made Scootaloo's stomach churn. Every single line of that twisted face was meticulously detailed, the features themselves suddenly harsh and sunken. It was like looking into the face of a decaying corpse that was beginning to melt along with its usual decomposition.

Scootaloo nearly dropped her flashlight. What in Tartarus? She started backing away, keeping her flashlight trained on the hideous thing in front of her. Even the vines had disappeared, leaving the statue completely bare. Scootaloo could see that its robe appeared to be tattered and there were no longer flowers lining its crown. The difference in the image from her memory and what stood before her was staggering.

She turned away and started towards the edge of the hill. Scootaloo had done her part. She'd gone to the top of the hill and left the friendship bracelet. Screw everything else.

Scootaloo paused when she heard that shuffle of hoofsteps again. The groundskeeper? She felt compelled to turn again, letting the beam of her flashlight again fall across the statue. Scootaloo's blood froze at the sight.

Even though she knew this wasn't the case, she'd been able to convince herself that her eyes were playing tricks on her. She'd told herself that the statue had always been like that. Anything else Scootaloo remembered was either a trick of the light or her mind playing tricks on her. Of course she'd wanted the statue to look peaceful to ease her nerves, so her mind had projected that image over the hideous reality. It was one of those brain tricks Twilight Sparkle talked about. However, Scootaloo was now looking at something she couldn't easily dismiss. No helpful logical explanation presented itself to her.

The statue had moved. Not an inch or even half a foot. If the movement had been that slight, Scootaloo could have explained it away. But this wasn't a trick of her nervous mind. The statue was now standing less than two inches away from her, its twisted face very close to her own.

Scootaloo stumbled back, a scream climbing her throat. A whimper of fear squeezed its way past the flashlight in her mouth. She was afraid that if she actually cried out, she might drop the flashlight. Even with Luna's light overhead, Scootaloo felt like she'd be left in the dark. She pictured a curtain of utter blackness falling over her.

Scootaloo turned away again, not wanting to look at its horrible face. She started down the hill at an even faster pace. But as she fled, she could hear the shuffling hoofsteps again. They seemed to be closer this time, following even as she practically galloped down the hill.

She paused and swung around. She expected to see the statue shambling towards her on its marble hooves, its movements stiff and unnatural as it closed the gap. But although it wasn't as close as it had been before, it didn't seem to be moving. If Scootaloo hadn't known any better, she would have believed she'd imagined those past few moments of sheer panic. If it wasn't for the fact that the statue was clearly not in its original place, Scootaloo would have started to doubt herself.

Scootaloo took a step backward. Could the statue only move if she wasn't looking at it? Was it forced to stay still as long as her eyes were on it? Was Scootaloo brave enough to test out her theory? Unfortunately, the answer to that last question was a firm No. Even if she should be able to out-gallop the thing, she didn't trust it to play by the rules.

She started backing away, keeping her eyes on the statue. She almost wanted to turn away from its hideous face, but Scootaloo kept her eyes and flashlight trained on it. She could feel the sweat collecting at her brow as she moved. She wanted to reach up and wipe it away, but her hooves only seemed capable of walking at a slow pace. Scootaloo couldn't even force herself to speed up, afraid she would automatically turn and start galloping away. She didn't want to hear those shuffling hoofsteps again.

A bead of sweat ran down the middle of Scootaloo's forehead and off the edge of her muzzle. More beads rushed to follow. Her eyes were beginning to water. Rather involuntarily, Scootaloo blinked.

The statue was now right in front of her, about an inch away from her face.

Scootaloo choked on the scream trying to scamper up her throat. It took all of her willpower not to drop the flashlight, whirl around, and start galloping for her life. She stumbled backwards on clumsy hooves, her heart beating so fast she was afraid it might burst in her chest. Her eyes were burning, but Scootaloo wouldn't let herself cry. She was terrified of what might happen if her vision was blurred by tears.

Don't blink, she told herself. Whatever you do, don't blink.

She continued backing away, keeping the statue in her sight. Scootaloo wouldn't even look off to the side to make sure the groundskeeper wasn't there. She didn't care anymore. In fact, Scootaloo wanted the groundskeeper to find her. She wanted to be thrown out of the cemetery by an angry old stallion, she wanted her aunts to be called and for this to be put on her permanent record. Scootaloo wanted to be punished for thinking this was a good idea. She wanted that red mark on her permanent record to be an eternal reminder of the evils of peer pressure and the peril of her own ego.

Scootaloo's eyes started to water again, but she kept them open. She channeled almost all of her strength into keeping her eyes open, even as they burned in protest. The rest of Scootaloo's energy went into keeping her hooves moving.

She reached the bottom of the hill. Scootaloo could still see the statue, but now she was much farther away. However, she was still scared to let it out of her sight. Scootaloo worried about what would happen if she turned a corner and the statue was no longer in view. Would she get away with letting it out of her sight? Or would it appear in front of her?

Before she could ponder this horrifying idea, Scootaloo backed into something. She almost jumped, but her eyes remained trained on the statue several feet in front of her. She didn't know what to do. Scootaloo had been following the exact same path she'd taken before. She was certain there hadn't been something blocking the path. Had the groundskeeper left something there while she was up on the hill?

But then Scootaloo realized what it was. Her blood ran cold as the realization rose inside of her. No, it couldn't be. But as much as she wanted to shake her head and remain in denial, Scootaloo could feel the cold marble pressed against her flank. She could feel the stillness of the thing behind her. She even thought she could hear something, a sort of dusty scratching like a breath being dragged from a long-unused throat.

There'd been another statue. Scootaloo had seen it on her way in. A big statue right by the gate, about two times bigger than a grown mare. A pegasus wearing a crown of flowers with a blindfold over her eyes.

Scootaloo whimpered. Two. There were two of them.

Without thinking, she whirled around to face the statue behind her. The beam of her flashlight fell upon a distorted face that reminded her of melted candle wax. The mouth was wide and gaping, the blindfold falling sideways to reveal a single gaping eye socket.

Almost immediately, Scootaloo heard a shuffling hoofstep right behind her. She knew instinctively that the other statue was now about two inches away from her. She was surrounded on both sides, unable to do anything but whimper in fear. Where in Tartarus was the groundskeeper? Scootaloo was waiting for the blinding beam of a flashlight to shine on her and for a stern voice to bark out a threat.

Scootaloo had no choice. She turned away from both statues and ran, darting around the one in front of her and galloping up the path towards the gate.

Coming to her senses, Scootaloo stopped and turned around again. She saw both statues a few inches away from her, their distorted features staring at her. They were both trapped in her vision, unable to move as Scootaloo panted and stared at them. The urge to blink had come over her, twice as strong as it normally would have been. She'd somehow managed to remain wide-eyed and staring throughout this, keeping the statues in her sight when she turned around.

Don't blink, she reminded herself. Don't blink. Don't blink. Don't blink.

She began backing away again, mapping out the way she'd come in her head. She hoped she remembered where the gate was. Scootaloo had gotten just slightly turned around during her near-escape. She worried she was trotting even deeper into the cemetery.