//------------------------------// // Ch. 9 - Laughter // Story: The Monster in the Twilight // by Georg //------------------------------// The Monster in the Twilight Laughter Big Mac trotted along the road back to Sweet Apple Acres with a weight of guilt crushing down across his back that weighed even more than his heavy wooden yoke tied to the rustiest plow on the farm. Little Apple Bloom had just looked so pathetic when she was dragged into the school house, swept along by her chattering, happy friends. It reminded him too much about how a sour crabapple vanishing into a cider press would ruin the whole batch. His mind chewed on the problem in the background the same way he would have a planting schedule, carefully arranging the pieces into a frustrating puzzle that seemed to have all inside bits and no straight edges. It distracted him so much that he made a left turn without realizing his mistake, onto the same narrow path his sister had trod so many times. It was only as he trotted slowly into the devastated clearing that he slowed to a halt, looking at the damage. The clearing that Apple Bloom had described was a mangled mess, with smoke and fire damage all over the surroundings but mostly focused in the direction of a giant tree with a blackened spot above his head where something had struck it at high speed, stripping away bark and leaves as a child would peel a twig. One blacked hoof-sized lump that looked like coal sat ominously in the middle of a burned out patch in the clearing, giving off an eerie dark glow that made him keep a safe distance. He walked around cautiously, keeping an eye on the treacherous woods for even the slightest flicker of yellow eyes or purple hide while he paced out the size of the crater in the bush. He really did not expect to find anything, but a scrap of red in the trampled grass caught his eye. It was a small clay statue that looked suspiciously like himself. With one exception. “Ah ain’t that—” he blurted out, before blushing and looking around the clearing, more afraid that somepony had heard him than of monsters. Moments later he trotted away back to the farm, the only evidence of his presence a small pile of dirt, as if a small object had been hastily buried. * * * “It just ain’t fair!” Apple Bloom sulked at the picnic table with her friends, who were eating lunch in the bright spring sunshine. Out at the edge of the playground, her brother sat at a similar table, eating lunch with their teacher and occasionally casting glances in her direction as if she were going to run away. “Ever since they had to drag that big Neighagara apple tree back out to the southwest field and replant it, mah brother’s being even more of a pain in the patoot. He’s even gone and started locking the house up at night. I didn’t even know we had a lock on the door.” “Monthter athked for you a lot,” said Twist quietly. “Thee really liketh my thalt water taffy, but thee kept one pieth back for you.” “We tried to get her over to your house, but she just locks up and digs in her hooves,” Sweetie Belle huffed. “She won’t believe me that you want to see her, and my sister doesn’t believe me at all. It sounds like the only pony that believes us is Big Mac.” Scootaloo frowned as she dug in her lunch bag. “Granola, bleah. And raisins. Does anybody have anything with sugar in it they want to trade?” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “Are you still miffed that she doesn’t want to ride behind your scooter? I think that just shows she’s smarter than she sounds.” “No, of course not.” Scootaloo dumped the contents of her lunch bag out into a bowl all at once and poked listlessly at all of the healthy dehydrated banana chips, raisins, granola and bran flakes, without even a single chocolate chip. Aunt Quick Fix was on her diet again, and that meant everypony in the house was on a diet too. “Thank you for replacing that book for me, Scootaloo. Did Monster like it?” “No,” she groused, nibbling at a clump of raisins. “I showed it to her and she took off running. I wonder if Monster would like banana chips?” “Everypony liketh banana chipth,” chirped Twist, peeling an orange. “You want to trade?” “I’m allergic. But thankth. You can have a couple sliceth of my orangth.” “Smile, girls!” All four fillies turned to the camera with matching smiles a moment before the flash went off with an impressive wave of light that had all the other little ponies at the table blinking. Featherweight trotted up to the table, carrying his camera and dragging his lunch bag. “Anypony want to trade for some plums?” “I’m good.” “Not me.” “Thorry.” “You want some granola?” The awkward pegasus colt hesitated until he saw the look of disgust on Scootaloo’s face when being faced by the horrible chewy cardboard health food. “Sure, but only if I can get a smile from you.” One brief camera flash later, and the swap was made. In less than a heartbeat, plum juice squirted across the table when Scootaloo attempted to fit a half-dozen plums in her mouth at once. “Thmommph kew Ffethherwet.” “You’re welcome.” He took another picture, with flash, to capture the gory results for future framing. “Idea!” Sweetie Belle hopped off her bench and pushed Featherweight down at the table. “Hey Apple Bloom, I’ve got an idea.” “Really? I never could have guessed.” “You want your brother to see Monster is really nice, but Monster won’t go to your house. So why don’t we have Featherweight take some pictures of Monster being… non-monstrous, like… well, doing non-monster stuff. And things.” Sweetie Belle looked at Featherweight. “You know, right?” “Oh, yeah! This is going to be awesome!” Featherweight exchanged a slightly sticky high-hoof with Scootaloo. “So who’s Monster?” * * * “In here?” Featherweight peered down the shadowed path leading into the Everfree Forest “This is going to be so cool.” “Wait a minute, girls. And Featherweight.” Sweetie Belle stopped in the middle of the path and held up one hoof. “We promised the Mayor we wouldn’t go into the forest without an older pony with us.” “Monster is older,” said Scootaloo. “She’s gotta be like fifty or something.” “Oh. Okay then.” It took nearly an hour for the little group of fillies (and one colt) to make it to the big bush they had met Monster at last time, mostly because Featherweight had to stop every few feet and take another picture of a flower or a creature. It turned out to be a bust. No Monster in the bush, or in the immediate area (which was carefully examined for loose branches first), or in the trees, or even with a little digging in the dirt to look for secret passages. They did manage to get some nice pictures of them playing. Featherweight promised he would bring the photographs to leave by the bush next time they visited so that Monster could see what she had missed. And before they went home, they left a small paper sack behind with one smuggled lunch item each in it for Monster, just in case she came back when they were gone and wanted a snack. Long after the happy shouts of the students had died away, a battered and scarred unicorn slipped unseen into the bush, and poked her nose into the small sack that smelled so good. The tiny black wrinkled fruits looked too much like rabbit pellets to eat, but the strange round purple fruit was delicious. Little purple drips of juice dropped onto her while eating, nearly matching the few unscarred portions of her coat and making her think of afternoon rains in a long-forgotten place. She sat thoughtfully under the bush, finishing the rest of the fruits and tucking away two of the marvelously sticky white sticks for later, before looking at the seed that remained after the plum had been eaten. When she had moved the pinkflower tree next to his sleeping tree, mac seemed to become very upset. He and sis had gone through a lot of work to dig it up and drag it all the way back to where she had gotten it. Maybe he didn’t like pinkflower fruit. He would like this purple fruit. Then he would not be frightened anymore, and he would let bloom visit again. That would be good. - - ✶ - - Morning dawned brightly over Sweet Apple Acres, with the first thin beam of sunlight filtering through the tall tree outside of Big Mac’s bedroom and in through the window. Sunlight normally brought him to that drowsy state of wakefulness that preceded his thoughts of chores, but this morning brought him surging out of bed in a rapid gallop over to the window. He blinked, while trying not to hyperventilate. It was back. He had not put it there. It had not been there last night. And he was certainly hoping it had not gotten up and walked there on its own, although he was starting to wonder. He carefully opened his window, reaching out and removing a bright purple fruit from the impossible tree. It smelled like a plum, although plums were not normally as large as his hoof. Just to make sure it was really a plum, he gave it a taste. It certainly tasted like a plum. That only left one question he could not answer. “AJ?” he called out, his voice sounding shrill in the morning air. “Now there’s a plum tree outside mah winder!” He took another bite. “It’s good, though.” ------- “Thanks a lot, girls. And you too, Featherweight.” Apple Bloom sat sullenly at the picnic table with her friends, each of whom had a substantial slice of plum on their plates which they had been devouring while becoming a little more purple together through splatter effects. Her own slice had hardly been touched, although her brother over across the playground had three of them that he was trying to explain to a couple of Canterlot unicorns from the Equestrian Department of Agriculture. “You’re welcome,” said Scootaloo before going back to work on her plum. “Ah was bein sarcastic,” she snapped. “Big Mac put a chain on our front door now and bolted mah winder shut. He’s plum spooked about that… plum.” - - ✶ - - That afternoon’s visit to the clearing was no more successful than the first, although they had to bring a much larger bag for the goodies to leave behind because of the plum, and Featherweight had brought a few dozen photos. The empty bag from their last visit was neatly folded by the bush with a happy-face drawn on it, so Monster had at least been there and liked what they did Still, they all agreed that a happy-face on a bag would probably not change Big Mac’s mind about keeping Apple Bloom imprisoned. The clearing had lost some of its frightening mystery through exposure over the last few days. The fillies played tag among the trees at the edge of the clearing while Featherweight took pictures of them and all the numerous spring flowers in the area. There was a general agreement among them that the flowers were pretty, and it should be safe enough to take pictures, but since they were Everfree flowers, nibbling was off the table. Picking, throwing, sniffing and weaving into garlands was seen as a generally safe activity, as well as taking pictures of the same activities, but when the time to leave came again, there was still no sign of Monster, and the little fillies (and one colt) left disappointed. Once again after the shouts of excited students had died away, the battered and scarred unicorn silently emerged from the trees. She tucked the bag of goodies away so they could be shared tonight at dinner. She would like the purple fruit, as well as the strange orange fruit, and the small red fruits with the big seeds and the little yellow discs that smelled funny. Maybe not the orange fruit. She disliked the color for some reason. Monster looked through the second bag with a hiss of fascination. It had many little flat leaves with reflections of witht, and bloom, and the other strange little ones, all smiling. Some of the leaves even had paintings of leaves. She tasted one, and spit it out. They did not smell like the flowers, or taste like them, but they looked like them. The little flashing box the happy feathered one carried must make them. A bolt of excitement shot through Monster. She would be able to show wist and bloom and sweetie and scoots to her. Then she thought of mac, and how frightened he was of the purple fruit. mac and sis had dug it up and taken it out away from their sleeping tree, and put it in a big empty field of dirt. If mac did not like trees, why did they have their sleeping tree in the middle of so many of them? He looked even more frightened today, and hunched over bloom protectively when they went back to their sleeping tree. The little ones liked the flowers, so maybe mac would too. - - ✶ - - Morning dawned brightly over Sweet Apple Acres, with the first thin beam of sunlight shining unimpaired into Big Mac’s bedroom through the window. The drowsy state of wakefulness triggered in the big stallion turned almost instantly into a full-blown panic. His entire bedroom was a giant wave of color. Blossoms and blooms of every possible hue and a few that seemed impossible lay hock-deep in waves of color that covered his floor, dresser, bed, windows and nearly obscured the door. Once he rolled to his hooves and dashed around the room, the air grew almost solid with a cloying scent from the trampled flowers, a constant force right to the face that tunneled into his nasal cavities and proceeded to flip every single pleasure sensor it could reach. Breathing through his mouth did not help, because the pollen grains landing on his tongue brought a wave of saliva coursing through his mouth and tears streaming down his cheeks. Taking a deep, pollen-laden breath, Big Mac yelled, “AJ! Get the durned shovel and don’t ask why!” - - ✶ - - “So what exactly is anny-phil-aktic shock anyway?” asked Sweetie Belle at their lunch table. Big Mac was not at his customary table outside the playground area. Instead cousin Caramel was sitting there sullenly, reading a book while complaining about how he had been drafted into guard duty. Apple Bloom shrugged. “Ah dunno. It musta been real serious. Caramel said he got like a dozen shots from the cute nurse, but he oughta be home tonight.” - - ✶ - - Monster fairly writhed with agony at the edge of the forest. mac had looked so swollen and sick when sis had loaded him onto the wheeled thing and ran off to town. She had hurt him again with the flowers. Now he never would let bloom out to play. He might even die. While sis and mac were away from the house, she slipped back over and whisked all the flowers out of their sleeping tree, throwing them deep into the forest where they would not cause any more problems. Monster was bad. Monster hurt mac. Monster hurt bloom. Monster should go away. Nopony would care. No, one would. Monster hugged It. It did not hug back like twitht. It had been hugged so much, It was nearly flat. It once had a name, just like Monster. It understood when she talked to It. She wished It could talk back. She could feel things get better when she hugged It. It made memories of other really big ponies grow softer. It made them not afraid of Monster. As long as she had It, she was not afraid of them either. Except for the memory of a really big white pony who rose up into the sky, and brought the burning sun down on her. Monster whimpered and hugged It until the bad memory went away. The bad memory happened more often now. She said it was because the stars hurt. They could not go where they needed to go. Balance was upset. She talked a lot about balance. And darkness. And stars. Monster liked listening to her talk. She was friend, like bloom. If Monster went away forever, she would hurt. If Monster stayed, bloom would hurt. Monster hurt no matter what. At dark, Monster would go back to her. Leave bloom. Not hurt anymore. - - ✶ - - “Ya big galoot, I’m tellin ya, it’s got nothing to do with Apple Bloom’s monster. We live next to the Everfree Forest, so weird things happen. Now will ya get into the cart, please?” “Nope.” Big Mac continued to plod down the road headed back to Sweet Apple Acres with his sister right behind, pulling an empty cart. “The doctor said yer gonna be just fine, if’n ya take a break for a few days. Now am I gonna have to sit on you, or will I hafta get Granny to put ya in a headlock again?” The big red stallion kept walking as if he had not heard anything, although his ears flattened back against his head. - - ☾ - - That night after the family had gone to bed, and he was sure they were all asleep, Big Mac lifted the blanket off his bed and quietly tiphoofed downstairs. In a few minutes, he was situated just below his bedroom window, with a shovel close to hoof, and a blanket to curl up inside. He liked the feeling of being outdoors at night where you could look up into the starry sky and see forever, and hear the far-off cries of mating hydras from deep within the Everfree. There had not been very many opportunities for him to do this when he was working until sunset and rising first thing in the morning. If that scary purple thing from the forest was doing these things to him, he would meet it like a stallion, outside of the house where the rest of the family would not get hurt. If it was something else, well, that’s what the familiar shovel was for. In all of his years living next to that cursed forest, he had never had to hit anything threatening more than once with a shovel. Sometimes he needed to get a new shovel afterwards, but one hit always did the trick. He settled into a comfortable position and waited. - - ✶ - - Monster was torn. mac had come back with sis, which made her glad. But he moved so slowly, like he was still in pain, and still looked around like he was afraid. Monster took out the flat leaves with pictures of bloom and scoots and twitht. They all were smiling, but bloom did not look happy. The silly feather with his flashing box could make anypony smile. There were pictures of mac too, but he did not smile, even for feather. A dark weight seemed tied to Monster’s chest and she sank to the ground with the pictures around her. Monster had done this. Monster was a scary Monster. Monster was bad. Monster could get feather to use his flashy box to take a picture of Monster for mac, but that would only frighten him more. Monster should leave. If mac was scared of Monster, he would not be scared anymore. mac would be happy. bloom would be happy. Something was wrong. mac was frightened of Monster, but mac was also big brother to bloom. Big brothers were never frightened. Brother. That word brought back a memory that hugging It for a very long time could not make go all the way away. Brothers were strong. They did not need an It. mac had both sis and bloom to hug so he would not be afraid. Right? There had to be something Monster could do. Monster looked at It. She needed It. Without It, she would be afraid. Maybe if she hugged It a lot now, she would not need It for a while. She could let mac have It just for a while. * * ✹ * * Morning dawned brightly over Sweet Apple Acres, the first thin beam of sunlight shining across the hills into Big Mac’s eyes, unhindered by trees, windows, or any other obstacle. Big Mac yawned and looked around, disappointed and embarrassed. He had fallen asleep outside while on watch. What a fearsome defender of his family he turned out to be. Tunneling back under his blankets would be futile. Applejack would probably be along in a few minutes to call him all kinds of silly names for sleeping out under the stars with only a thin blanket… Well, two blankets now. And a pillow. Which he had not brought outside with him last night. Suddenly wide-awake, he looked around carefully for any misplaced trees or flowers. The only thing out of place was a grimy rag of some sort that had been stuffed down the inside of the blanket. It looked well-worn, as if it had originally been some sort of stuffed animal that had been stomped, dragged, carried, slept with, bathed with, cried on and hugged until all the stuffing had compressed into tiny little hard knots like marbles, and the covering had been ripped and patched and ripped and patched until almost none of whatever it was originally made out of was visible. If he squinted at it very hard, the locations of the eyes and tail could be made out only because there were two blotches at one end, and only one at the other. He gave it a cautious sniff, fearful of the dirty cloth being a reeking mess, but he could only smell the forest mold, flowers, and a faint smell that he thought he recognized from last fall. The very fabric seemed permeated with the smell of absorbed fear and loneliness, of darkness kept away and strange noises in the night. Holding it, he could imagine a strong guardian and companion that would always be there to protect the owner. To play with her when nopony else would. Who would always listen, no matter how difficult it was to speak. To love, when nopony else would. The flat rag seemed to call out to him on some primal level at the very core of his being. After a quick glance around to make sure he was not being watched, he put it carefully to his chest, and gave it a little hug. Only a little one. Very small. And he knew. Big Mac carefully gathered up his blankets and pillow, as well as the tattered doll, and returned to the house. A few minutes later, Apple Bloom was awoken by a light tapping at her door. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in, Big Mac.” The little filly yawned and tumbled out of bed, smacking her lips and beginning her normal morning routine. “I’m sorry I overslept, just let me use the bathroom and brush my teeth—” A big red foreleg swept her up and Big Mag gently hugged the little filly for a long, long time, finally setting her down with a sniff and a pat on the head. “Here,” he said, gently giving Apple Bloom the grubby scrap of cloth. “Your friend brought this to me. Ah think she needs it more than ah do. Why don’t you take it back to her?” - - ✶ - -