Enter Flutterbat

by Ribe_FireRain

Enter Flutterbat

Every single day, somebody mourns for someone that has died, passed on to a better place. It doesn't matter if the person is a family member or a friend, but they still mourn. They grieve and work through the hurt. They learn to drown their sorrow in their own way, be it through the golden-yellow rot-gut spirit known as whiskey or through years of painstaking heartache that slowly becomes less and less noticeable until it becomes tolerable.

However, I do not mourn for those types of ponies. I am far too busy mourning for myself.

Why, might you ask, would I be mourning for myself and I'm still alive? Well, the answer is simple, is it not? I am not strictly alive. To be honest, it's hard to tell where I stand in terms of my own mortality. I no longer know who I am. But I know what I am, and that is dead. Technically.

Sure, my heart still beats and my lungs still contract and restrict when I inhale and exhale, and my blood still flows, albeit, thinly and coldly rather than thick and warmly. However, I am pale-skinned and I do not feel pain or fear. I do not even think about what happens next in my 'life'. There isn't really anything waiting for me on the other side.

I lurk in the shadows, and I loathe the rays of bright orange sunlight that burns me if I should expose my skin to it. I no longer can bear the warm grace of Celestia's sun. I may only ever creep out into the night by the silvery light of Luna's moon, swooping through the still of the dead night through the fields and town of Ponyville. Once my home.

It's strange to be back in the town that I once called my home, like many of the other mares, stallions and foals that live here. It's so calm, so tranquil, so peaceful and pleasant. I never was one for crowds, small or large. No, the only thing that I crave now is a shiny red bauble and the golden-yellow juice it houses behind its red skin.

The very thought of them makes my mind and body shiver like a cold fire engulfing my nerves! I can smell them from the town, the scent luring me into Sweet Apple Acres on the other side, enticing me! I don't so much as want them, but rather need them out of necessity, almost like my body can't survive or function without their nectar.

I can't quite figure it out, but I had learned not to question The Need. The Need wants it, so The Need gets it. The Need tell me what it wants, so I get The Need what it asks for. I do not question The Need.

Sweet Apple Acres was my only source of living, a place of life-giving in the form of delicious, nutritious apples. I can see them now as I fly over-head among the canopy of black specked with stars. I had always loved stargazing from time-to-time, watching curiously from my bedroom window from behind the glass.

I landed on top of the barn beside the farmhouse that served as the residence of the Apple Family, and of my ex-best friend, Applejack. I used to watch her at night as she slept peacefully in her bed. I had done so a week after my transformation had left me in the body I am trapped in right now. I don't know why I felt the need to watch her, but I still felt like I owed her as much.

Applejack mumbles and speaks in her sleep, I've noticed. Her window is always left ajar, so I can always hear her with my now-bat-like ears. I can detect movement and conversations from great distances, and it allowed me to hear Applejack more clearly.

The first time I came here, watching her through her half-open bedroom window on the second floor of her house after landing on the top of the barn, Applejack had cried heavily in her sleep. She kept mumbling my name, weeping and sobbing, and I heard her say, ''I'm so sorry, Fluttershy,'' almost every night of that first week.

Rainbow Dash had taken it worse than Applejack, though. When I visited Rainbow during the second week after the events of that night Twilight casted the spell that rebounded on me, I couldn't believe what I saw.

I didn't want her to see me, so, as quietly as I could, which didn't take much effort to remain unnoticed, I peered through her window as I obscured myself from view on a nearby cloud, hovering just by her bedroom window. I didn't want her to see me like this. I knew that Rainbow would take it harder than anypony else, and it hurt my heart when I caught glimpse of her.

She looked exhausted. She was pale and ill-looking, her magenta eyes near-transparent, lacking life and colouration, like her soul had been extracted. Her fur around her face was tear-stained and matted, her coat unkempt and unclean. She likely hadn't bothered to bathe ever since the grief struck her. I had also noticed an appearance of empty cider bottles from Applejack's farm scattered around her room.

Although I may have lost most of my pony instincts and characteristics after my nightmarish transformation, seeing my closest fillyhood friend in such a drastic, crestfallen state had stabbed into my heart with such a guilt-ridden bitterness that I felt like crying along with her. I nearly did, too.

I wanted to go to her, comfort her, cuddle her, tell her that everything was going to be alright, but I knew that I couldn't. Not like this. I didn't want to scare her, and, given the circumstances, the sight of her best friend turned into a monster standing on her doorstep would cause her to snap or breakdown into tears. Likely both. And so, I left her be.

I had visited Twilight, Rarity and Pinkie Pie, too. I wasn't able to find the courage to face them directly in my current state, not knowing how they might react, but when I had caved in to my thoughts of resistance, I had to see how they were coping.

Twilight had noticeably been more active in her studies. I had gotten close enough to see that she was feverishly flipping through her spell books, presumably trying to find more answers than dead ends about the failed spell. I had watched her every now and again from afar, and she was still occupying herself with working on a spell to fix what had gone so very wrong.

Rarity, on the other hoof, was keeping herself busy with her stress sewing. She sat alone in the dark in the main area of her boutique, where she sat behind a sewing machine, creating black funeral garments and veils. It was painful to witness the distress written on Rarity's face.

I remembered all of those trips to the spa that we had taken together, and all of the laughs we had shared. Rarity was always nice for a conversation, and she threw in some gossip here and there every now and again. I wasn't one for hearing or spreading rumours, especially after that whole issue with the Gabby Gums article in the Foal Free Press, but I didn't mind. She never said anything too harsh or out of line. She knew I had my reserves.

For instance, did you know that Photo Finish is a fan of dubstep? Or that Mr and Mrs Cake don't actually like cake?

I visited Rarity one night when the streets were clear, and I had decided to dare myself to make a closer approach to her boutique, hovering just outside of her sewing room window, a decision I would soon realise was a mistake.

The curtains were fully open and I saw her sat there again, sewing away tirelessly and endlessly into the night. I was only able to remain unnoticed for a couple of minutes before Rarity glanced towards the window with a sharp gasp when she saw my figure hovering behind the glass.

I froze as her eyes landed on mine. We stared at each other silently for half a minute, her face shocked and surprised to see me there. Her mouth hung agape and her blue eyes became paled and filled with horror. I saw her lips move, unmistakably miming my name. She had an idea what she was looking at, who's face it used to be, an almost ghastly sight.

A second later, Rarity screamed and tossed the raven black funeral dress she was working on at the window, crying, ''Shoo, you foul beast!'' after me.

Rarity was right: I was a beast. I'm a mockery of the mare that I used to be. I didn't even know if the name 'Fluttershy' still held meaning to me after I became...this. I wasn't even her anymore, so I guess that the old me truly is dead and gone. To them and everypony else, I was deemed dead.

One of the hardest visits I had made was to Sugarcube Corner to visit Pinkie Pie. I had flown onto the roof of one of the nearby houses as quietly as I could, and I noticed that Pinkie's light was still turned on.

I watched as Pinkie opened her window and she was leaning over the side of the edge, her expression droopy and dull. Her mane was no longer bouncy and puffy, as it always was, but it was straight and dangling around her face like a pink lampshade. That was the thing, too: Pinkie's colours were no longer vibrant or full of life and energy. She was essentially a pony-shaped deflated balloon.

Pinkie's face was laced with a deep, overwhelming sadness. Her lips were hanging in a drown and her eyes were marble-like and void of her optimistic energy. It was as if Pinkie Pie had lost the will to live and her mind was in a dark, dreadful place. She was faring no better than Rainbow Dash was, and I noticed evidence of long-since-dried tears staining her face and matting her fur.

Witnessing Pinkie Pie sad and miserable was almost as rare as witnessing a lunar eclipse in the average lifespan of a pony. It hardly every happened, and it nearly came as close to the rarity of witnessing the legendary Century Comet Cascade. There are only a hooffull of ponies that are alive today that have witnessed such an event.

I found myself coming back to each of my friend's houses on occasion, perhaps once or twice per month, just to rid myself of the guilt. I didn't want to feel guilty. I didn't want them to feel sad for me. I didn't want anypony to cry for me or for them to hurt for me. It wasn't fair!

Applejack was mumbling again in her sleep as I listened. I watched her closely, seeing her shift and toss about beneath her covers, her limbs knocking about while her face contorted, as if something was haunting her mind, a bad dream, perhaps.

''N-N-No, Fluttershy!'' She mumbled, her face becoming sad as her eyes clenched tighter, as if trying to hold back tears, her hooves pulling themselves from beneath her covers and reaching out, as if trying to desperately grab something out of reach. ''Don't leave!'' She said, whimpering like a little puppy.

I felt myself whimper, too. It rumbled in the back of my throat, squeezing my heart and bringing about a sad but warm sensation, like before you cry after experiencing something devastating or upsetting. Watching Applejack call out for me in her sleep did just that.

Seeing her like this, I wondered how deeply experiencing one of her best friends becoming some kind of hybrid beast created through a rebounded magical charge of energy had affected her, how badly her heart was wounded. It must have felt something akin to having a heated, serated knife dragged across your skin. I winced a little at the thought.

I thought about my friends, wondering if it would even be possible to take it all back, to rejoin the world as I once knew it, to re-enter my old life as the shy, sweet, timid pegasus that takes care of wild animals for a living. Twilight was clearly working on finding a cure or, at the least, something helpful or remotely useful, and Twilight is one of the smartest ponies that I know, so if there's anypony around that can find a remedy for the tragic changes the spell made to me, it's her! She just has to!

Would I ever have the chance to return to normal? Am I forever destined and ill-fated to the shadows and the light of the blue, silvery moon for all eternity? Moreover, how long do I have left to live like this? Bat ponies tend to have a longer lifespan than normal ponies, but there's no telling how a hybrid created unintentionally through the means of magic would live for.

I hovered by the window of Applejack's bedroom and watched her as I remained in the air for a moment, and I gazed at her sleeping form sadly. I may not have possessed many of my pony traits and thoughts and feelings, but I still remained coherent and intelligent enough to feel sympathy for those around me.

Applejack looked like a lost, distressed foal begging for her mummy to come running towards her, to take her in her hooves and cradle her, tell her that she wasn't going to leave her. As sweet as her expression was, it only made me feel sour on the inside, like a squeezed lemon over ice.

I saw my reflection in the window. Red-tinted eyes stared back at me, distant and icy, like crystalised blood. My ears, previously rounded and short-furred, were now more pointy and prominent, tufts of fur sticking out from the ends. My wings, while flapping gently in the air, supporting my weight with ease, were no longer feathered. They were leathery and slightly larger than my old wings. They made me more agile and fast, able to sneak and swoop like a majestic hawk darting for prey. My mane had also adapted to the change, becoming more ruffian-style and slighter dull, as if I had gotten out of bed after a rough night and forgotten to give it a wash and a brushing to smoothen out the creases.

I opened my mouth slightly as I continued to stare at myself, and I immediately grimaced at the sight of my new set of white, shiny teeth. Two long and sharp-looking needles protruded out of my gums, catching a gleam of the moon's beams and reflecting brightly. I knew that they were capable of plenty of harm with little effort, likely able to kill in an instant if I so desired. But that wasn't me.

Those fruit bats...Twilight's spell, when it had rebounded, had bounced back a certain trait that they held when their energy absorbed into me. I had read stories about vampires, ancient folk legends, about blood-sucking creatures that feed only on the living during the dead of the night, and sometimes, they would feed on cows and other animals to maintain life. They simply can not survive without drinking the life force of a living creature.

It would seem that the trait of a fruit bat that gives them their desire for fruit had managed to infect my system and take over my system like some form of plague. It had taken Fluttershy over and replaced her with something completely new and terrifying. The idea of being doomed to this fate scared me.

I can pick up the scent of apples of all varieties and immediately understand which ones are the most ripe and plump and juicy of the bunch! Their aroma is intoxicating, and no matter how hard I may fight my cravings for control, The Need takes hold. I become a puppet the instant The Need calls for me.

From Applejack's window, I suppressed a whimper and I felt my eyes well up with warm tears. I touched a hand over the glass where Applejack's face was and I felt my heart throb behind my ribs, slow, but there.

''I'm sorry, Applejack,'' I said, quietly and I felt a tear slip free as I felt what was left of my slow-beating hear begin to tear at the seams. ''I love you and the others, but I guess this is goodbye,'' I said.

I flew away from the window after taking one last glance at Applejack as she continued to whimper and moan in her sleep, taking in her features for the very last time.

I knew that, despite everything I wanted to believe, there was no going back. There was no going back into my old life and continuing to live as if nothing ever happened. There was going to be no more Fluttershy. I didn't even feel like Fluttershy anymore, so I had no doubts that whatever was left of her was destroyed the moment the fruit bat's bodily chemistry interfered with her own.

I came to the conclusion that it would be best if everypony remembered the old Fluttershy as she was: sweet and caring. The quiet one. The one that loved her animals. The one that was always the mental crutch and the open ear for those that needed it the most. The one that loved her friends beyond words.

This was it, then. Gone is Fluttershy and here is the freak that used to be her. Flutterbat.

I thought about Rarity, Pinkie, Applejack and Twilight as I flew away into the night, forcing myself to refrain from turning around to take another glance at Sweet Apple Acres and the town of Ponyville behind it. I couldn't take it. If I looked, I knew I'd only break down into a flying, sobbing mess of a has-been pony.

I knew that they missed Fluttershy and that they were going to always hold a place in their hearts for her, and I knew that I was going to be thinking of them, too. More importantly, I was going to be thinking about Rainbow Dash. Rainbow, the one who had always been there for me, who had ensured I always had a loyal friend by my side, the one I considered my sister.

Rainbow Dash, given what I've already seen of her grieving, was going to take the hardest blow of the loss of Fluttershy, and I fought against the idea of going back to comfort her as I had done before. She didn't need to see what her friend had become. She didn't need to see what freak of a mutant hybrid had taken over Fluttershy, the pony that she had practically grown up with and known since forever. It would break her heart beyond repair.

I only hoped that Rainbow Dash could forgive me for what I had become. I liked to think that she still loved me for who I was. I didn't want the hole in her heart to be torn even further than it already was. She didn't deserve that kind of heartache. Nopony did.

One last time, I thought about Rainbow Dash's face and the rest of my friends' faces. I recalled the good times and the bad times through our time together. I thought about when our days together were full of joy, laughter, fun and games instead of bitter heartache, turmoil and misery.

I hung my head down low beneath the blue-ish glow of the white moon, and my tears dripped and sparkled within the light, gleaming like glass beads. They began to flow freely as I flew further and further away from the town. I didn't know where I was going to fly to, but I didn't necessarily care about that right now.

The only thought that occupied my mind at the moment was the matter of distancing myself from my friends and Ponyville as far as I could, away from the pain I had unintentionally caused everypony. The further I flew away, the less damage and pain I would be able to cause.

The further away I flew, Fluttershy could rest in peace.