Day Four
Fluttershy wakes up in a dark room, bathed in a blue light. She yawns and stretches as her wits slowly come to her, piecing together where she is. She’s surrounded by machines, shadows dancing in the weak lighting. She must have fallen asleep without going to bed last night.
She pushes herself up and looks around the basement. The air is crisp in the morning chill, a light draft from somewhere making her mane billow softly. The flickering screen nearby paints the machines around with its inviting glow as it broadcasts its perplexing tale. Everything is as she left it.
Now what? she ponders, walking back over to read the messages again. Fifteen years… She shakes her head and shuts the machine off. It just doesn’t make sense. If this place has been empty for fifteen years, what brought me here?
No matter how much she may want to, she can’t force the answers to come to her. Instead, she decides to just go about her day, hoping her next step will come to her as she does. So, she collects herself and heads upstairs for breakfast.
As she walks into the library, something catches her eye. A piece of paper on the floor, the note she had tossed away. Without thinking, she goes and picks it up, staring at it once more. Still just that one, mocking word.
Who are you? she wonders. Why are you here?
She puts the note back on a table and goes back to her day as her thoughts churn. A quick meal, some lazy hygiene, and before long she finds herself standing in the middle of the library with nothing to do.
Before she realizes it, she finds herself back at the note. She stares at it, and it stares back. She wants so badly to find more answers in it, but it just sits there, unchanged.
Gotcha. She snatches up the note and starts to pace, never taking her eyes off it. Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha. Why leave this? What do you want from me? If you would just talk to me, we could work something out. It’s like you’re trying to make me try to stop you!
She shakes her head. Fine. She tosses the note aside and heads back downstairs. If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do. I’m sure Twilight has something down here I can use. You are going to talk to me.
She moves erratically around the basement, digging up any little gizmos and gadgets she can find, trying to find something useful. These smaller experiments haven’t withstood the test of time well, though. Broken wristbands, cracked goggles, snapped antennae. Very few of the things she finds work, and those that do don’t do so particularly well.
At first she’s careful with the machines, delicate and deliberate in her handling of them, but the more that turn up broken, the more haphazardly she moves. As she digs through one particularly full box, she starts to get frustrated by the already tested machines making it harder to find new ones, so she starts to just drop the broken ones on the ground.
One of the things she tosses aside cracks loudly when it hits the floor, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. The shock brings her wits flooding back to her, and she starts feeling her heart pounding in her chest, shooting waves of adrenaline through her body. It’s almost dizzying, and is made all the more disorienting by the realization that she was in this state well before scaring herself.
Get ahold of yourself, Fluttershy. She forces herself to slow down, taking deep, deliberate breaths. This isn’t like you. Just calm down and think, don’t let them—
Suddenly, the world vanishes. Darkness swarms in, engulfs her, and she recoils from it. She falls back, her knees buckling, instinctively trying to make herself as small as possible. For a brief moment she’s lost in the void, and in an instant she’s overwhelmed with a fresh wave of adrenaline. By the time her eyes adjust enough to realize that the overhead light has gone out, she’s already far too worked up for the knowledge to do anything to help.
Not that she’s even given time for relief. A deafening bang echoes throughout the house, the shock knocking Fluttershy backwards. She stumbles, scrambles up and dashes towards the noise in a rush of adrenaline. Through the machines, around the corner, up the stairs, and then she’s stopped. The door leading downstairs has been slammed shut with enough force to nearly knock it off its hinges. Cracks spiderweb out from the center of the door, where it’s been kicked shut. Nothing the wind could do. Nothing she could do. This is them. It has to be them.
Desperation engulfs Fluttershy. There’s no room for fear, nor hesitation or anxiety, not when presented with the possibility of ending her solitude. The most frightening monster in the world would still be another living thing. Another bang rings out as the door shoots open, crashing against a wall as Fluttershy runs into the library.
The library is completely empty. No ponies, no monsters, no sign of life. Scattered books flutter in the breeze flowing in from the open front door. Whoever this pony is, they seem to have left in a hurry.
Fluttershy intends to catch them.
She bolts out into the street and whips her head around. Nothing. No trace of movement in any direction, no indication of where they went. Fluttershy isn’t willing to give up that easily, though. She takes to the sky, pushing back the anxiety that wells up as she ascends until she’s high enough to see the majority of Ponyville.
Empty streets, vacant homes, and utter stillness. Nothing living moves through Ponyville. No gaping doors, no broken windows, no disturbed earth. There’s no sign of the mystery assailant. Fluttershy frowns. They could be anywhere. Searching house by house would be a fool’s gambit. No, she’ll need to do something else.
She lands and walks purposefully back into the library. There’s no going back now, she thinks as she goes around grabbing supplies.
You forced me into this. She strings up empty cans and bottles over all the doors and windows, making sure she’ll hear if anypony comes inside.
I never wanted to fight. I would’ve been nice to you! She uses any leftover thread or string she can find to make a web between the tables and chairs in the library, hoping to trip the pony up if they run in unprepared.
But no, you had to use me for some kind of awful game. As a final defense, she grabs some clear plastic wrap from the kitchen and strings it up all through the air, making a maze of invisible walls that should hopefully make flying impossible.
Well, I’m going to win.
It’s as she’s rummaging around Twilight’s bedroom to come up with more ideas when she hears it. The unmistakable klinking of empty bottles, right at the front door. She freezes for a moment, astounded to be hearing her alarm so soon, but recovers quickly and makes a break for the door.
She sees it swinging as she breaks past her makeshift curtain, and she wastes no time in following the trail outside.
Then she sees them.
Down the street, running deeper into Ponyville, she catches her first glimpse of her tormentor. Not much to see, just a dark flowing cloak covering a pony, but now Fluttershy knows what she’s looking for.
There’s no way she’ll let them out of her sight again. She runs, faster than she’s ever run before, charging after the other pony.
Buildings whiz by in a blur, the world losing definition around her as she pushes her body to move faster and faster. Slowly, steadily, she gains ground.
As they round a corner, the pony sees Fluttershy chasing them and redoubles their flight. When Fluttershy follows down the same street, they’ve left her in the dust, easily doubling the distance between the two.
Still, Fluttershy isn’t willing to give in. She follows for as long as she can, catching the other pony in the corner of her eye here and there and following their tracks.
They manage to shake her several times, but she doesn’t give up. She makes guesses, trying to think of where they would have gone, and it works. She’ll lose sight of the pony, but she always manages to see them again soon after.
Smart movement can only carry her so far, though. Without the speed to capitalize on it, Fluttershy spends the entire time running fruitlessly through the town. She can find the pony every time, but every time they outrun her. She refuses to admit defeat, to give in, but she just isn’t fast enough.
Eventually, though, she has no choice. She kept up the pursuit for far longer than she’d ever thought possible, but there was always going to be a limit. She collapses, panting hard, her legs burning. She squeezes her eyes shut and buries her head in her hooves.
“Why,” she whimpers. “Why!” She coughs when she strains her unused voice, which only serves to make the pain in her legs worse. She sprawls out on the dirt road, teary eyes shut tight as she gasps for breath.
She stays there well after her breathing returns to normal. The dusk washes over her, but she doesn’t move. The night comes soon after, and it too is able to devour her. I have to go home, she tells herself as she doesn’t move. Just roll over and get up, she pleads with herself, and ignores.
She tries to picture it in her mind, feel the motions of getting up and walking back, but she’s feeling things that fail to happen. Her body won’t move, her mind won’t move it, and so she does the only thing she can do. She falls asleep.