How the Tantabus Parses Sleep

by Rambling Writer


Petrifying Pupils for Pleasure and Profit

Nightmare Night. The most terrifying night of the year. Fluttershy had just finished her annual ritual of sewing the curtains shut to keep anything outside from peeping, but the night was still creeping up on her.

“Do you have everything?” she asked Angel. “Then get on upstairs. I’ll be done in a minute.” Angel hopped up the stairs as Fluttershy did one last tour of the house. Everything was safe and secure, and nopony could break in. This was going to be her safest Nightmare Night ever. She was not going to be surprised.

She squeaked when there was a knock at the door. “Go away!” she yelled. “There’s no one here! No visitors on Nightmare Night!”

The knock came again, along with a familiar voice. “Fluttershy? It’s Moondog. Listen, if you come to the door, I promise I won’t scare you. I have a proposition for you.”

“Moondog?” After a second of working up her courage, Fluttershy squinted through the peephole. Moondog was sitting on her front step, looking as normal as she usually did. No spookiness. “Oh! Um, give me a minute and I’ll be right out.” Fluttershy spun a latch, threw back a bolt, undid a chain, undid another chain, spun another latch, spun another another latch, threw back another bolt, and so on, until, fifty-four seconds later, she was able to open the door enough to peep through. She trusted Moondog, but Nightmare Night always got her paranoia up. “Um. Hello.”

“Hey.” Moondog inclined her head.

“What’re you doing out here?”

“I like Nightmare Night. I have an excuse to be scary.” Moondog’s smile was fangy, but only very slightly. “But I know you don’t like it, so would you like me to handle any trick-or-treaters that come by? They come to the door, I’ll scare them off, and you won’t notice anything. And anyone who wants to scare you deserves to be scared.”

“Oh!” Fluttershy’s ears quivered. “Um. I… don’t want to impose…”

“Good thing I came to you, then. And if you don’t want me to, I’ll be off.” Moondog pointed back to Ponyville proper with a wing.

Just like that, Fluttershy’s mind was made up. “If you want to, then yes, you can stay,” she said. She took a step back and waved Moondog on in. “Just don’t scare anypony too much, okay?”

Moondog’s ears twitched as she walked inside. “Of course I won’t scare them too much!” she laughed.

“Won’t you?”

“No! Heh. No.”

Fluttershy stared. (Not Stared. That would be mean.)

“Fine. I really won’t.”

“And please keep the noise down, would you?” Fluttershy asked as she went back upstairs.

“Of course!” Moondog saluted, her form already misting up. “Buenas noches, amiga.

Fluttershy tiptoed down the hallway and closed her door as quietly as she could manage. Lock: click. Latch: thrown. Bolt: dead. And she was safe for the night. She collapsed onto her bed and let her wings go limp as she stared at the ceiling.

She sat up when Angel thumped his foot. He pointed at the door and made a twisting gesture with his paw.

“No, I can’t open the door. I told you, we’re not leaving until the night is over.”

Angel thumped again, pointing at his mouth.

“No. You should’ve gotten some food beforehoof.”

He crossed his front legs and pouted.

“Fine. But if you’re not back in a minute, I’m locking you out.” Fluttershy undid all the locks and opened the door just a foot. Angel was off like a shot, making little rabbity plods down the steps.

Fluttershy sighed and shook her head. The stomach on that rabbit. She turned to her bookshelf and selected a guide by the Audubuck Society. More birds than usual were showing up and she wasn’t positive she had everything they needed. As she leafed through the book, she kept an ear tilted to the floor, listening on Angel’s quiet, quiet progress. He pattered across the kitchen floor. He pulled open the fridge. He selected a few vegetables. A long pause. Something from the deepest, blackest pits of Tartarus itself unleashed a bloodcurdling roar with the bass of an artillery gun that shook the entire house. Angel raced across the kitchen floor, pounded up the stairs, dashed into Fluttershy’s room, and buried himself in the sheets.

She didn’t look up from her book. “See, this is why we don’t leave the safe room on Nightmare Night.”

A few moments later, Moondog leaned into view around the doorframe; a bowl of vegetables was floating at her side. “Hey!” she said, smiling a bit too broadly. “Your bunny — Angel, was it? — he came down and got some vegetables from the fridge, but even though I was the only other person down there, something scared him out of nowhere and he ran back upstairs, even leaving his food behind!” She wiggled the bowl. “I collected it for him, but it was just the strangest thing.”

Fluttershy gasped and made wide, innocent eyes. “Goodness! That does seem quite strange! Be sure to keep an eye out for whatever spooked him.”

“Don’t worry. I will.” Moondog put the bowl down in front of Angel and closed the door.

Once Angel worked up the courage to leave his blanket burrow, he slowly inched towards the bowl like it was going to murder him. After repeated shaky pokings failed to yield any attempted bunslaughter by inanimate objects, he pulled a carrot from the bouquet and gnawed at it. Scowling at Fluttershy, he pointed to the door and imitated fangs with his paws.

“I know she did,” Fluttershy said as she relocked the door, “but I told you to stay in here, you know.”

Angel tried to look angry, but it was impossible for a bunny to look remotely dangerous with that much kale sticking out of his mouth.


Gallus straightened his coat one last time. (It was a fashion thing.) Sometimes, he wondered just how much experience Professor Rarity had with nonponies. He wasn’t surprised that his own P. T. Barneighm costume fit quite nicely, considering griffon bodies weren’t that different from pegasus bodies (or so he told himself). He was very surprised that Smolder’s robber baroness getup also fit quite nicely because, well, quadruped, biped. Normally, he would’ve chalked that up to Rarity having nonpony customers over the years, except that before the School of Friendship, Ponyville was a pony town so thoroughly that they’d been surprised to see a zebra. Still, he didn’t put it past Rarity to have read up on bipedal-suit-making-techniques before the school opened Just in Case.

He and Smolder were waiting in the main lobby of the school for the rest of their friends to finish changing. Nightmare Night wasn’t a time where you just went it alone, even if you’d been waiting for five minutes. “Why do you need a monocle?” Gallus asked as Smolder continued her monocle-polishing. “You can’t even wear one.”

“All high-class bad guys need a monocle,” said Smolder. “I think it’s the law or something. And I can wear it just fine.” She wiggled the monocle into a gap between two scales. “See?” She opened her eyes as wide as she could; the monocle didn’t fall out. “Polishing it just makes me look sophisticated.”

“Nah, it makes you look like you’re trying to look busy.” Gallus lightly bonked Smolder on the head with his cane.

“Shut up. It does.”

“It really does!” Sandbar said as he walked in from the boys’ dorms. “What really does what?”

“Uh…” Gallus looked Sandbar up and down. He wasn’t wearing anything. “Where’s your costume?”

“This is it! I’m a serial killer!” said Sandbar cheerfully.

“I know that,” said Smolder. “But what’s your costume?”

“Normality.”

“Your Nightmare Night costume.”

Sandbar rolled his eyes, but he laughed. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are, Smolder.”

“Which still leaves me pretty darn funny.”

“Heh. True.”

Ocellus buzzed out from the girls’ dorms, bedecked in the most wonderfully cliched pirate garb you could imagine. She’d even managed to get her hooves on a cutlass from the armory of Twilight’s castle (and Gallus wasn’t sure Twilight knew that). She had her eyepatch flipped up at the moment, though. “Yona’s helping Silverstream put the finishing touches on her costume,” she said, “so they should be out in a minute.” She glanced at Sandbar and frowned. “Why’re you a painter’s model?”

“I’m a serial killer,” pouted Sandbar.

Ocellus went through a brief cycle of nodding and shaking her head, ending with a nod. “It’s alright,” she said, “but you could use a bloody knife. Or an axe. Maybe I could get you one, I saw some axes back when-”

“They don’t advertise themselves like that!”

“Why are you so concerned with the accuracy of your serial killer costume?” asked Gallus. He eyed Sandbar faux-suspiciously. “Is there a dead body beneath your mattress?”

“No! That’s an awful hiding place, you’d smell it. I’d feed it to Professor AJ’s pigs, they’re omnivores who’ll eat-”

Silverstream burst into the lobby, Yona trailing behind her. She was dressed up as a firemare while Yona was a pop diva, complete with sparkly makeup and microphone. “Sorry sorry sorry!” she said. “I fell on my helmet and had some trouble getting the dents out.” She pointed at a light ridge where the plastic had clearly been bent. “Yona helped a lot, though.”

“Yaks best at fixing headwear,” said Yona. A pause, then she added quickly and quietly, “If not count Rarity.” She looked Sandbar up and down, then nodded. “Yona like Sandbar’s costume very much.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” demanded Smolder.

“Serial killer. They look like everypony else.”

Sandbar grinned smugly, even though, of all the grins in his repertoire, “smug” was the most rarely used.

“So were we going trick-or-treating somewhere before the party?” asked Gallus. “I was never really clear on that.”


“Professor Fluttershy’s?” Gallus skeptically as they approached the cottage.

“For the twelfth time-” began Silverstream.

“Fourteenth,” whispered Ocellus.

“-yes, Gallus! Just as a little, you know, pick-me-up for tonight,” said Silverstream. “She’ll love to see a familiar face on Nightmare Night.”

“No, what she’ll love is a quiet night with nobody bothering her,” said Gallus. “She’ll have a heart attack the second one of us knocks.”

“If she was that much of a wuss,” asked Sandbar, “do you think she’d be friends with Discord?”

“It’s worse on Nightmare Night, since everything’s out to get her.”

They were at the front door, but Gallus still hung back a little. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, “but I don’t think she wants it. She probably won’t even answer the door.”

“No problem,” said Smolder. She leaned past Silverstream and rapped on the door. “We’ll give her, I dunno, a minute, and if she’s not here by then-”

The door opened and Prince Blueblood stepped out.

Sandbar immediately ran for the hills, screaming so shrilly little fillies would look down upon his lack of masculinity. Everynonpony else took a step back, various degrees of perturbed.

“Hello, children!” declared Blueblood. “As your new headstallion, I am now in control of your futures!”

“No! Not my futures!” squealed Ocellus. She buzzed down the path, yelling, “Wait up, Sandbar! Let me flee with you!”

Smolder frowned, stroking her chin. “That’s cool. So are you Twilight or Starlight beneath that illusion?”

“Am I- I am Prince Blueblood.” It was amazing how wimpy his petulant stomp was. “Nephew of the important princesses and new Headstallion of the School of Friendship!”

“With no announcement? And you just happen to be at Fluttershy’s cottage on Nightmare Night?” Smolder crossed her arms and rustled her wings. “I don’t buy it. I think you’re Starlight. Twilight wouldn’t do something like this.”

“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” scoffed Blueblood. “As a most esteemed member of royalty, I-”

Smolder flicked Blueblood on the nose. He screeched like a banshee and stumbled back. “You touched my nose!” he whispered. “Why did you touch the royal person?

“Huh,” Smolder said, a little bit nervously. “Isn’t contact supposed to dispel illusions?” Another flick, another lack of dispelled illusion, another overreaction from Blueblood. (“My muzzle is beset by the digits of the peasantry! Oh, the equinity!”)

“Smolder…” said Silverstream. “I don’t think you should-”

“But that can’t be Blueblood!” protested Smolder. Her wings kept opening and closing. “He’s-! Hair. Neither of them have hair like him.” She grabbed at his mane and froze, eyes wide. “Their manes aren’t this greasy,” she whispered.

“This is intolerable!” said Blueblood. He yanked his mane free of Smolder’s grasp and toppled onto the floor of the cottage. “Do you always marehandle your instructors like this?” He gave Smolder a feeble telekinetic smack on the nose. A telekinetic smack with a golden haze.

“You’re really Blueblood,” gasped Smolder, not even aware of the smack, “and I just- Slag.” She was off like a rocket, even faster than Sandbar.

“What an odd person.” Blueblood got to his hooves and attempted to massage his mane back in place while getting as little dirt on it as possible. “Are all dragons as touchy-feely as her? We really must do something about that. Anyway, we’ll need to make some major changes to the decor. All of that practicality.” He shuddered. “How are you supposed to study without history looking at you from every corner?”

“Actually,” said Silverstream, “there’s a lot of-”

“I mean real history, my good mare who isn’t a mare or even an adult and so wouldn’t be a mare even if she were a pony. We need Maeng Dynasty vases! Unique crystal busts that took the masters hundreds of hours to carve! Obsidian statuettes! And this will all be quite fragile, so…” He fixed a suspicious eye on Yona. “Smashing anything on the school grounds is forbidden. We can’t risk anything breaking.”

Yona nearly shrieked, and a yak shrieking was something to behold. “No smashing?”

“No smashing,” Blueblood repeated.

“But… But designated smashing times!”

“Oh, yes, we’re getting rid of those. No smashing.”

“Smashing is thing yaks best at being best at!” protested Yona.

“Nevertheless,” declared Blueblood. “No. Smashing.

“No smashing,” whispered Yona. She staggered back, a dazed look in her eyes. “No smashing.” She turned around and staggered along a route that vaguely resembled the path from Fluttershy’s cottage. “No… smashing…”

“She seems to be taking it well,” said Blueblood cheerfully. “Now, where was I? Safety! The school needs to be much safer. For starters, stairs shall be banned. We can’t have ponies falling down them.”

Silverstream scratched her head. “That’s more disappointing than scary. But, um, A for effort?” She smiled, paused, and flew away. Her screams were too gleeful to be really scared.

Gallus rolled his eyes. “Really getting creative with the scares, aren’t you, Moondog?”

Blueblood froze. “How?” he squawked in a most un-Blueblood-like fashion.

“You’re not the real Blueblood,” Gallus said, holding up a talon, “ ’cause even I know you couldn’t get him into the country for a literal mountain of bits.” Another talon went up. “Smolder proved there’s no illusions, but I didn’t think that was true, anyway.” Another. “You could be a changeling, but I can’t see one coming all the way out here for just one night.” And another. “And of the two prankster non-changeling shapeshifters I know, your jokes aren’t the ‘holy Grover I hate you so much and want you to die in a fire’ kind, so you can’t be Discord. Ergo: Moondog.”

The two shared a long look. Blueblood sighed and hung his head. “Heh.” He looked back up, his irises and pupils matte crimson, his sclerae jaundiced, grinning a terribly snaggletoothed grin. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice several registers deeper and raspier. The coat on his sides sloughed apart like a rotten fruit’s skin to expose mismatched wings. “Because I think that perhaps…” His hooves fractured, claws growing in beneath. “…you should choose your next words…” He reared; sickening cracks rent the air as his body elongated and his limbs contorted. “…very. Carefully,” rumbled Discord with the force of a landslide.

Gallus didn’t even blink. “You already responded to being called Moondog and Discord’s skin is way too thin to take a joke.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Discord evaporated into gray mist and condensed into Moondog. “Or do I just suck?”

“The former. Obviously.

Moondog nodded. “Good. Not sucking is always preferable.”

“Neat transformation, though. So what’re you doing out here?” Gallus leaned to one side. “Does Professor Fluttershy actually have candy?”

“No. She doesn’t like Nightmare Night, so I’m keeping anyone who comes out here away from her house. They come out here, I pretend to be something terrifying-” Moondog morphed into a large timberwolf wrapped in thorns. “Roar. -and they run away screaming, with Fluttershy’s night undisturbed.” Moondog shrugged and dropped the wolf shape. “Kinda slow tonight, but I don’t care. …That much.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see a lot of other people out this way.” Gallus glanced over his shoulder. His friends were long gone. “You still need to scare me,” he said. “I mean, you’re not gonna just let me go, are you? And please get creative.”

“Hmm. I guess I’m not.” Moondog tapped her chin, then smirked. “As a mental being composed of energy, I am immune to physical wear and tear. I take in more energy than I use by default. Absent anything that affects my magic directly, I may very well be completely immortal.”

Gallus cocked his head. “That’s not scary.”

“So there’s a very real chance that, eventually, I will be the only evidence that anything on Equus ever existed.” And Moondog blew on a noisemaker.

Gallus thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it. Existential dread hit him like a meteor and he shivered. “Okay, wow. That’s… wuhhh. That actually is kinda disturbing.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t have any nightmares about it.”

“Great. So instead, I only have to worry about the inexorable march of time wearing all actions to nothing.”

Moondog smiled the kind of smile you expected to get punched. “Exactly! Trust me, it’s not so bad. And I would know; ninety percent of all my actions are forgotten once the sun rises.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Gallus glanced over his shoulder. “Look, I gotta get back to my friends, but, uh, see you tonight, I guess?”

“You guess right. Be seeing you.” Moondog saluted and vanished into a swirl of mist. “Adios, amigo.

Gallus turned around and headed along the path his friends had vanished down. But he had only made it over the small bridge in front of Fluttershy’s when inspiration struck as hard as Applejack bucking a tree. He scrambled back to the cottage and banged on the door. “Hey!” he yelled. “Moondog!”

A few clicks and the door opened up, revealing nothing. “Yeah?” nothing asked.

“Are you bored?”

Moondog rippled into distorted half-visibility so Gallus could see her shrug. “Kinda. Why?”

Gallus’s evil grin was worthy of any villain, a particularly impressive act with a beak. “ ’Cause I just got a great idea and I need your help.”


The run back from Fluttershy’s cottage took the friends minus Gallus to a small hillock outside the edge of the Everfree, just close enough that the foliage was getting denser, yet just far enough away that it wasn’t dangerous. Sandbar had stopped fleeing from the nobility there, so everyone else who was also fleeing stopped there as well because, hey, why not? It was a place where they could catch their breath and adjust to being tricked rather than treated.

“I drakehandled a prince,” muttered Smolder frantically. She paced back and forth, wringing her tail, opening and closing her wings. “I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince…”

Some were taking it better than others.

“You’re sure it was the actual Blueblood?” asked Ocellus. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of pony to come out into the boondocks.”

“I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince…”

“Then why Ocellus run?” asked Yona.

“I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince…”

“I panicked,” said Ocellus defensively. “Why’d you run?”

“I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince…”

“…Yona panicked.”

“I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince. I drakehandled a prince…”

“Hey!” Sandbar yelled at Smolder. “You know he’s a pony prince, right? Not a dragon one? He can’t incinerate you because you looked at him funny.”

“I drakehandled a prince. I drakehand-” Smolder smacked herself across the face and stopped pacing. “Okay, so it’s just ninety percent bad instead of totally bad!” she yelled. “I still pulled on his mane.” A wince. “Like, hard.”

Silverstream laughed half-nervously. “I was there and I still don’t get why you did that. What if it had been Twilight or Starlight?”

“I-! Um. Uh…” Smolder’s voice got lower with every word. Pause. “It wasn’t them anyway! Blueblood’s mane was all gelled up and-”

“Manes take work,” said Sandbar, fluffing his. “Maybe Twilight or Starlight uses hair gel, and-”

“Scales take work, too, I know what good skin care feels like! This was… whatstheword, indulgent. I mean, really greasy. It was all clumping together and you could squeeze it like a sponge. It barely even felt like a mane. Even his magic was yellow.”

“But Blueblood being out here doesn’t make any sense!” said Ocellus, flaring her elytra. “Why-”

“Hey!” Gallus flap-waddled up the path; he was pressing down on his head with one of his hands. “Sorry it took so long,” he said. He coughed, a strange, two-toned wheeze. “Blueblood was-”

“Gallus?” asked Silverstream. “What’s with the…” She pointed at his head and made a little wiggly motion with one of her claws. “Thingy?”

“I got smart with Blueblood a few too many times,” said Gallus, “so he called in his bodyguard and cut my head off. It’s even more of a pain than it sounds like.” He pushed down harder. “Anybody got some tape?”

“Tape?” Sandbar asked.

“Uh, yeah? To keep my head on straight? I’m really starting to ache, you know!”

“Tape not best for securing body parts,” said Yona skeptically, “especially not with fur.”

“Well, it’s the best we’ve got. Seriously, does anyone have tape or not?”

“C’mon, Gallus, stop messing around,” said Smolder. She nudged him in the ribs. “You’re not as funny a-”

Between the nudge and having to balance on three legs, Gallus stumbled. As he regained his balance, he wobbled. And his head slipped from his grasp and rolled away, coming to a stop at Yona’s hooves. The entire group froze, as silent as Twilight in a library and as unmoving as Rarity’s opinion on polyester.

“Oh, gold dang it,” said Gallus’s head. His body gesticulated wildly. “I told you!”

The rest of his words were drowned out by everyone else’s screams. They were off like a quintet of shots, rocketing towards Ponyville with the speed that only terror can bring, leaving Gallus behind on the edge of the woods.

Gallus’s body dropped onto his haunches and crossed his arms. “Some friends you are!” yelled his head.

After a moment, another Gallus poked his head out of the bushes, happy as a clam hopped up on endorphins. “Holy crap, that was great!” he said. “You should’ve seen the looks on their faces!”

“I saw them perfectly well, thank you,” said the decapitated Gallus. His body and head twisted into those of Moondog. She sidled over and picked up her head. “They’re gonna hate you for cheating tomorrow, you know.”

“Yeah, but that’s tomorrow,” said Gallus. “Just let me enjoy tonight, alright?”

“Fair enough.” Moondog plopped her head back on her neck, then squinted at Gallus’s own. “Want some tape?” She pulled open a roll of duct tape. “So you can say you went back to Fluttershy’s and she helped you.”

“Sure.” Gallus held his head high as Moondog plastered her illusion around his neck. “Thanks.” He didn’t feel anything when he rubbed his neck. As long as he didn’t look (which would be impressive, considering he’d somehow be looking at his neck), he’d probably be fine. “You gonna go back to Fluttershy’s house now?”

Moondog shook her head. “Nah. Either ponies have been pretty good about letting Fluttershy be tonight or they always leave her alone and I didn’t think this through. Either way, I don’t need to be here.” She vanished, leaving behind a shadow on the ground. “So it’s time to torment in some other ways.”

Gallus waved a claw through where Moondog had been. Nothing. “You know that’s not really all that scary, right?” he asked. A little spooky and eerie, sure. But not scary.

“Of course it’s not.” Moondog’s shadow clapped Gallus’s on the back. He didn’t feel anything, but his shadow’s knees buckled; it “fell” before getting back to its feet and resuming its usual behavior. “That’s because you saw me,” said Moondog. “And it’s not supposed to be that scary to begin with. Get back to your friends, have fun tonight.”

With a flap of his wings, Gallus took to the sky. “You, too!” he yelled. He raised a hand, paused, awkwardly waved at the ground, and was off.

“Of course I will,” Moondog whispered. It was impossible to miss the grin in her words. The shadow reared and spread its wings wide as darkness fell over the hill. “The night, she awaits!”