//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Insomnambula // by Charles Xavier //------------------------------// Prologue … “Megan…” The voice of a seven-year-old child called to her. “Megan…” It called again. “Megan, please wake up.” Megan Williams, an athletic blonde of thirteen, was unexpectedly awoken by her younger sister, Molly. Molly stood at her bedside in the dark of the night, dressed in her favorite blue one-piece pajamas. She shook Megan’s shoulders and tugged on her pink nightgown, desperately seeking comfort and safety in her calm and serene bedroom. Her eyes of pure cerulean, like Megan’s, were welled up with tears. Her curly pigtailed hair was soaked with sweat. She appeared unsettled, almost petrified even. Something was troubling Molly dearly, as if she had just experienced a horrific nightmare. However, nightmares were fairly common with Molly, even in the Williams household. “Molly, what’s the matter?” Megan yawned, slowly rising out of bed and rubbing her weary eyes. She switched on her bedside lamp and inspected her clock. The hands indicated that it was well past midnight. “Are you okay, are you hurt?” Molly innocently shook her head as Megan examined her pajamas. Thankfully she hadn’t wet herself. It was occasional for Molly to do so at times like these. Molly whispered into her sister’s ear. “Listen, I think there’s somebody in the house with us…” she began to shiver, gradually raising her voice in panic. “I saw a woman… standing in front of my bed… looking straight at me. She was tall and really old looking… she wouldn’t say a word when I tried talking to her. I felt… it ‘wanted’ me for something, something I’m not sure about. So I screamed and ran here! I didn’t know what…!” “Hey, hey. Hush now… it was just another bad dream. That’s all.” Megan assured her, patting her gently on the head and stroking her hair. “Everyone has bad dreams sometimes. It’s okay.” Megan opened her arms out to Molly, an invitation for a warm sisterly hug. Molly gratefully accepted and cuddled her closely. Megan gently rubbed her back and delivered a kiss to her younger sibling’s forehead, hoping to put her mind at ease. “I know it’s a little lonely right now, but Mom and Dad will be back soon with Danny in a couple of days.” Megan reminded. Mr. Williams had left his eldest child Megan in charge of the countryside home over the weekend, while his wife and he were away. After missing several opportunities, Mr. and Mrs. Williams decided to make time for their only son, Danny, and follow him on one of his baseball tours for support. And since Molly wasn’t really into baseball herself, she chose to stay behind and take care of the horses at their ranch with Megan. Megan always appreciated a little help from her kindhearted sister. So tonight, she was offering a little more kindheartedness back to her. They held on to each other for a good five or ten minutes, when Megan finally let go. “Tell you what, after we feed the horses in the morning, how about we take a trip back to Ponyland and visit our friends there?” That made Molly immediately feel all the better. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen the magical ponies in Ponyland for some time now. “Yes! Yes, oh yes! That would be amazing!” she bounced up and down on Megan’s bed with sheer excitement. “I can’t wait to see again Spike, Baby Lickety-Split, Baby Lofty, Wind Whistler, Firefly, Posey, Surprise, and-” “All right, all right. We’ll see everybody.” Megan tried to calm her down. “And they’ll be just as excited to see us, I’m sure.” “YAAAY!” Molly cheered ecstatically. “But first, you have go back to bed and get some sleep. Can you do that for me?” “Okay.” “Good girl.” Megan switched off her lamp and tucked herself into bed. Molly herself was about to leave the room and head straight back to rest, until she halted abruptly, rendered stiff in cold sweat. A pungent scent, one of what Megan could only relate to like rotting flesh ran up her nose. A chilly breeze blew, seeping underneath her blankets and reaching up to the back of her neck and her long hair. She couldn’t ignore it. Molly faced the doorway frozen, her arms and legs numb, as she uttered nervously. “Megan… there’s somebody in the room with us.” Megan rose up from bed again and faced Molly’s direction. Her eyes only widened in fear. There WAS in fact somebody else in the bedroom with the girls. At the open doorway, stood a sinister and spectral figure clad entirely in a crimson robe, like that of a monk or a mage. Her face was entirely concealed within the shadows of a hood. The Crimson Spectre was motionless, obstructing the exit of the bedroom with her staggering stature. She made not a single sound. Without hesitation, Megan pulled away her blankets and sprang from bed. She reached her hands for the bedside cabinet in haste, fishing out from a drawer a metal baseball bat. It was one that Danny lent to her for self-defense, if ever a domestic confrontation arose and she was without the aid of the ponies of Ponyland. “MOLLY, GET BEHIND ME!” Megan ordered her fast as she tightened the bat firmly within her grip. Molly obeyed as Megan took a few cautious steps towards their unannounced guest. “Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Megan spoke intrepidly, although frankly she was feeling quite unnerved by the Crimson Spectre’s presence, which felt anything but welcoming or friendly. “What do you want with us?!” The Crimson Spectre was mute, remaining eerily calm and composed, not nudging from her position. “You better answer now before I call the cops on you! So let me ask you again: WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH US?!” The Crimson Spectre raised her shriveled and malnourished hand, pointing menacingly with her extended claw. She hissed venomously, making both Megan and Molly tremble, as she spoke under her breath in a threatening tone: “Molly…” Molly felt the adrenaline rush through her body, her stomach churn and her heart race. Megan felt all of the hair on her skin rise up. Too many thoughts ran amuck inside her mind simultaneously: why in heaven’s name did the Crimson Spectre need Molly? What was she planning to do with her? And what was she seeking to accomplish in this? Not a moment sooner, however, did Megan feel her feet being lifted off the ground by an invisible force. Before she realized it, her body was flung instantly and pinned harshly to the wall. The Crimson Spectre was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “MEGAN!” Molly cried out in terror. Megan wanted to tell Molly to escape as fast as she could and save herself, but was not given that chance. She was bashed continuously against the wall. Each strike grew more vicious, more punishing and more unbearable to endure, let alone watch. “STOP IT! YOU’RE HURTING HER!” Molly wailed, yet her words only fell on deaf ears. Furniture rattled in Megan’s bedroom as the Crimson Spectre refused to hold back on her assault. Then it all came to a stop when Megan, sorely bruised and battered, dropped her bat. She was unable to withstand further beatings, and was subsequently released from the Crimson Spectre’s telekinetic hold. She slumped to the floor, completely passed out. Molly was anxiously cowering in an isolated corner crouched in a ball, left helpless and defenseless. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that this sick illusion could be wished away at her will... then there occurred a long moment of dead silence. Molly relaxed and opened her eyes, hoping her prayers had somehow been answered. They hadn’t been. The Crimson Spectre had soundlessly teleported right up close to Molly, towering above her dominantly. Amidst the bright moonlight permeating the room, Molly could partially make out the Crimson Spectre’s face within the hood. It was that of a wicked old hag with a dire and deathly pale complexion. Molly was aghast as the Crimson Spectre pulled a ghastly grin at her in the blink of an eye, exposing her rotten and disorderly teeth. Molly did the only thing her instincts told her. She ran past the Crimson Spectre and fled to Megan’s bathroom on the opposite side of the room. She locked the door behind her, pushing her hands firmly against the door. At her feet, within the gap between the door and the tiled floor, the ghostly shadow of the Crimson Spectre could be seen approaching. The door handle shook as the Crimson Spectre tried turning it from the other side, but to no use. She tried ramming her way in ferociously. This only made Molly scream and sob as she resisted the intrusion stubbornly. “Let me iiinnn…” the Crimson Spectre hissed in an aged yet daunting voice. “GO AWAY! LEAVE US ALONE!” Molly clamored back. The door ramming ceased. Molly stood her ground and waited in suspense. She failed to notice the door unlocking on its own accord, granting the Crimson Spectre the entrance she desired. On spur of moment, the door jerked open. Molly was hurled back against the bathroom wall. She looked up and saw the Crimson Spectre standing before her. Molly sat paralyzed. There followed another dead silence… before the Crimson Spectre let out a blood-curdling shriek and lunged at her victim with superhuman speed. For a split-second, she exposed her white unkempt hair, her sick cadaverous face, and her unholy maniacal eyes… Then darkness… … Octavia Melody sat alone on the empty stage of the grand and opulent auditorium located in Ponyville’s theater. It was fit enough to pack at least several hundred ponies. Since the morning, she had spent passionate hours practicing her cover of the classical music piece ‘Canon in D’ with her cello. Besides her was a boombox, which she generously borrowed from DJ Pon-3, playing a piano accompaniment recording. It was now well into the evening, and Octavia continued to play on with absolute perfection. Still unsatisfied though, Octavia was ever so determined to accomplish the piece without any mistakes whatsoever. She had barely eaten the whole day, with a bowl of strawberries for breakfast and just a piece of buttered toast for lunch. Yet still, Octavia performed energetically, executing all the right notes with exuberance and professional timing. After finishing her last note, the cassette tape in the boombox stopped playing. Octavia sat back on her chair and let out a deep sigh. Despite having completed her piece a dozen times with impeccable precision, she still wasn’t quite content, willing to push the boundaries of her skills further somehow. Then again, the long hours had simply worn her out for the day… Nevertheless, right out of nowhere, she heard the light sound of applause. It was coming from somewhere within the auditorium. Yet Octavia could sight nobody there when she looked. It was apparent that the noise was coming out of thin air. This startled her. She scanned the benches a second time. Again, there didn’t appear to be anybody watching her. Even the second floor balcony proved deserted. Perhaps Octavia was merely hearing things? She paused in bemusement… until she leaped out from her chair in fright and nearly dropped her cello when Pinkie Pie appeared from behind the curtains, playing a cheerful tune on her trombone to her. “Pinkie Pie!” Octavia exclaimed, mildly irked. “Gooood evening!” greeted Pinkie Pie mischievously, delivering a friendly salute. Octavia inspected the clock on the wall. It was past 7pm. “It’s evening already? My word, how times flies… so what brings YOU here at this unscheduled hour?” “Oh, I just came here with a message from Applejack. She’s cordially invited you and DJ Pon-3 to apple picking at Sweet Apple Acres tomorrow. So whaddya say, you coming?” “Apple picking?” Octavia groaned disapprovingly. “How could I ever think of apple picking when the annual Ponyville Music Festival is less than two weeks away?” Pinkie Pie couldn’t help notice how exhausted Octavia looked. She was more than dead serious about the celebratory event, as it was a formal display of Ponyville’s, let alone Equestria’s, finest and most talented musicians. “Lighten up, Octavia. It’ll be fun! You’ve cooped yourself up in this theater for most of the past three days, you know. You’ve practiced long and hard enough, so just unwind a little. Surely a day without music won’t hurt, right? And besides, every pony needs time off from work to recharge their batteries.” “Well, MY batteries are long-lasting.” Octavia objected, still showing no interest in the invitation. “And I won’t waste a moment of them.” “Aw, c’mon. Pretty please?” Pinkie Pie grinned. “Thank you, but no thank you.” Octavia kindly but sternly affirmed. “I’m afraid duty calls, and I MUST ensure that my performance turns out practically perfect.” Pinkie Pie and many of the other ponies knew that Octavia almost never shifted her focus away from her dying love for music, especially when an important concert drew very near. She would work herself to the bone to make her performance spotless, and on record, she ALWAYS performed exceptionally well. Yet it sometimes raised the question if rejecting social gatherings was really worth it… A brilliant idea crossed Pinkie Pie’s mind. She disappeared behind the curtains while Octavia returned to her chair and checked the strings on her cello. She busied herself adjusting the tuning pegs but was caught off guard when… “SAY CHEESE!” Pinkie Pie reappeared and snapped a surprise photo of Octavia with her newly purchased camera. The camera’s dazzling flash threw Octavia off balance and she almost fell, temporarily blinded. “HEY!” Octavia yelled annoyingly. “What on earth’s the meaning behind this?!” Pinkie Pie chuckled and lowered her camera. “Oh, I just got the loveliest photo of you in front of the auditorium! Imagine how great this’ll look to promote your big night event! Everyone’s gonna be hyped!” Octavia couldn’t argue too much. Pinkie Pie was only trying to help attract a bigger audience for her dear friend with some publicity. Yet at the same time, it made Octavia just a little more nervous, raising the expectation levels for her own music number just a little higher. And a ‘little’ might be putting it mildly. Octavia turned her attention back to the auditorium, which remained devoid of life. She was still left wondering who might have possibly been applauding earlier. She was certain for a second then she sensed something, or somebody present… that or she had indeed been overworking herself. Agreeably, it was time to pack up and head back home. … After a light dinner, Octavia was off practicing with her cello again at home. She had promised herself to give it a break for the rest of the night, but she couldn’t resist. It was without any doubt that her mind was set on making this year’s concert out of this world… just like every other one she’d been involved in before. Even after all the time they’ve been housemates, DJ Pon-3 couldn’t fully comprehend her dedication to her music, which truth be told, exceeded her own. Still though, DJ Pon-3 was always willing to offer a little helping hand to her companion when it sounded like she needed it… and sound analysis was a forte for the disc jockey pony. DJ Pon-3 stepped up to her DJ controller, listening meticulously to the timing and rhythm of Octavia’s melody. Once she was familiarized with ‘Canon’, she musically intervened, incorporating her own additional sound beats, music tracks and whatnot to enhance the tune. However, Octavia was not all so impressed with DJ Pon-3’s disruption. “Do you mind, Vinyl?” she paused abruptly, frowning. “You’re interrupting my focus here.” Octavia resumed with her cello, while DJ Pon-3 ducked under her controller. She was seeking a certain vinyl record she had in mind that might appeal to Octavia. Once she thought she found it, she set the record onto her turntable and played it. The strumming of a ukulele played through her stereos, accompanied by a creepy, unsettling and somewhat garbled voice, singing: “Tiptoe through the window, by the window, that is where I’ll be…” Octavia cringed severely upon listening to the bizarre, inappropriate and not to mention disturbing song. DJ Pon-3 removed the record immediately and lifted her clouded sunglasses to read its label: ‘Tiptoe Through The Tulips’. Clearly she had made a terrible mistake, and it wasn’t the soundtrack she had intended for Octavia. “Do not EVER play that ghastly confounded song again!” Octavia asserted profusely. “Really, are you deliberately trying to give me the willies here?” DJ Pon-3 casually shrugged and sheepishly grinned. In her honest point-of-view, Octavia’s take on ‘Canon’ was fine, but it could seriously use a bit more finesse, more oomph. And she was confident she could help fulfill that by combining her own music skills with Octavia’s. A knock came from the door. Octavia stopped what she was doing, moaning and rolling her eyes to her housemate tiredly: “I presume that would be your gentleman caller.” No doubt. DJ Pon-3 was dressed a little fancier than usual, in her own stylized glittering cocktail dress. She went to answer the door, where she was greeted by Neon Lights, dressed in a white button shirt and black tie. He lowered his shades and winked at DJ Pon-3 with a clean smile. The two briefly cuddled. This was their fourth dinner date. Octavia never fully understood how DJ Pon-3 could balance her time well between her music and a personal relationship, but of course, that wasn’t the matter of concern for her right now. Needless to remind herself again, she had a music festival to prepare for. So she simply let the lovebirds be. Octavia could most likely predict that DJ Pon-3 would arrive home late, as she usually would on her evenings out. After dinner, she and Neon Lights would party the night out until the early morning. Neither could resist going to a good dance club, two or three, particularly when DJ Pon-3 was asked to operate as their DJ. “Good night, both of you.” Octavia said dryly, her nose glued to her music sheets. “And good morning as well, I suppose?” DJ Pon-3 shut the door behind her, leaving Octavia to her own peace. The latter was somewhat relieved. It was nice to have the house all to herself sometimes. Not in the least did Octavia acknowledge the dark silhouette of a humanly figure draped in a crimson hood, standing visibly outside the window behind her. The Crimson Spectre stood soundlessly, listening to Octavia’s sweet whimsical music. She calmly shifted aside, vanishing from sight. A knock came from the door. In minor frustration, Octavia set her bow and cello down to answer the caller. She peeked through the glass pane of the door, but could see no one. Opening the door, she stepped outside into the clear windy night to check whoever might have been around, or even hiding. “Hello…? Is there anybody there…?” Octavia called out, yet she received no response. “Hello…?!” The only sound she heard was that of the strong rustling of leaves from the neighboring bushes and trees, including the few abandoned leaves left on the grass. There followed an unusually chilly gust of wind, which Octavia felt all too well. She swore she might have heard some sort of voice, that of a woman, calling out to her, calling out her name… Discomforted, Octavia quietly returned to her humble abode and closed the door. She was growing convinced that she was hearing things again. Perhaps working tonight wasn’t such a splendid idea. It seemed far clearer now for her to give it all a rest for today, no question. She packed away her bow and cello into her fiberglass case. She just finished locking it, when… Another knock came from the door, only this time it was louder than the previous, more aggressive even. Spooked, Octavia let loose a high-pitched yelp. In irritation, she strode towards the door, peeking through the glass pane again. Still she saw no one. Octavia was getting increasingly unnerved. She opened the door and poked her head outside, this time not stepping out beyond her doorstep. Again, there was not a soul present… or at least one she could see… “WHO’S THERE…?!” Octavia called out in the dark of the night. To her disappointment, there was still no answer, save for the nocturnal wind. “WHOEVER IT IS, KNOW THAT THIS ISN’T AMUSING AT ALL IN THE SLIGHTEST! JUST LEAVE NOW AND BE GONE ALREADY!” Just after her warning, Octavia sensed the same womanly voice delicately calling out to her in the wind. Only this time, it whispered closer into her sharp ears: “Let me in… let me in… let me iiinnn…” This only brought chills down Octavia’s spine, and she was certainly not to have any more of it. She swung the door shut in full force, locking it securely. It was time to head for bed… NOW. She had had too long of a day. However, when merely taking a few steps away from the door… A third knock occurred, or to be more specific, a rude pounding. Riled and distressed near to her boiling point, Octavia hollered: “LEAVE ME ALONE!” She was not going to tolerate any more of this supposed tomfoolery. The pounding continued. Octavia threw open her case and snatched her bow, holding it firmly as her weapon. She crept against the wall next to the door, not bothering to peek through the pane this time. She reached for the door handle carefully. A single drop of sweat ran down her cheek as she prepared for her next move. Unlocking the door swiftly, Octavia flung it open and rushed outside, raising her bow to strike her intruder, “GET OUT OF HE-!” then she stopped short. She was just an inch away from beating the living daylights out of Neon Lights, who flinched in reaction to her attempted assault. DJ Pon-3 stood beside him, bewildered by Octavia’s random act of hostility. Octavia froze awkwardly, searching for words to explain her strange and erratic behavior. Her friends were left oddly confused. Octavia calmed herself and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I do sincerely apologize… I, I didn’t mean to… please, please excuse me…. it’s… it’s just been a long strenuous day, you see, and I… I…” For a moment, DJ Pon-3 thought Octavia was losing her marbles. She’d never seen her this neurotic before. Assuming it was just stress though, she simply shook her head and retrieved her pair of headphones on her bed that she had carelessly forgotten. She was going to need them for the dance clubs later tonight. “Right then, er, good night… again…” Octavia bid Neon Lights and DJ Pon-3 goodbye, before quietly shutting the door for the last time tonight. … With the whole house unlit, Octavia slept like a log in bed, having one of the most peaceful sleeps of her life. It was truly what any pony desired. It was a shame to think that maybe it would be one of her last… Over at a standing mirror in the corner of the room, upon its reflection stood the Crimson Spectre. Holding a dim candle, she stared ominously at Octavia with her ghastly grin… before the candle’s light faded away into darkness.