//------------------------------// // Chapter: 1 Patches, you poor bastard. // Story: Darkly Dreaming: Blood and New Feelings // by Connor Shadows //------------------------------// Darkly Dreaming: Blood and New Feelings By Connor Shadows Chapter: 1 Patches, you poor bastard. It was just before dawn in Ponyville the black unicorn with a peppered mane Patch Work, Patches to his friends, sat in the small white tiled bathroom of his coat shop home. He was curled up on the cool floor tiles dealing with a large amount of discomfort in his gut. “Ooooh, Shit what the hell did I eat.” He whined. The older stallion was usually in good health, he hadn’t eating anything that day other than salads. He didn’t even put cheese on them. Another deep throb hit him. “Damn oooww, if I have gas just let it come out already.” As if his innards heard him a long and not very pleasant noise came from his back side. After that most of the pain subsided. Now that clouding pain was gone he could think. What different food did he try today “It was those freaking brussel sprouts.” Patches realized. “Note to self don’t eat those again.” The exhausted shopkeeper was about to go back to bed when he heard a commotion outside. It sounded like some kind of fight. The voice of a younger stallion rang out in the still night. “Get off of me you freak!” “What's going on out there?” Patches wondered to himself as he cautiously made his way out of the bathroom and down the dimly lit hallway that led to the storefront. He got to the end of barely lit hallway to a solid oak door. He grabbed the aged brass door knob and pulled on the hefty block of wood. The door now wide open he was met with a bushy wall of cloth, he pushed his way through with the all too familiar scent of dusty fabric entering he nostrils. “Uggh! Somepony help!!” “This is more than a fight.” Patches quietly screamed. After Patches had gotten through the wall, shutting the door softly behind him, he looked at his favorite place in Equestria. The storefront of ‘Jackets Galore’ the small store was covered with clothes racks with what the name of the store implies. The shiny, wood floor had one short of a dozen racks with assorted coats and jackets, they were set up in orderly grid like fashion in the space available in the shop. There were also racks on the wall, one in particular with a gap in the clothes hanging bars hid the door that led to were Patches lived. He always thought it was clever. The store was pitch black all he could see was a small sliver of lunar light coming through a crack in the thick curtains that covered the front window casting a thin silvery line across the room. Instead of fumbling around in the dark Patches decide he use some magic so he could see. His magic was dark shade of grey very close to black with star like yellow dots speckled inside and a thin outer aura of the same shade of yellow. His magic wasn’t very good for making light but it was better than nothing. With his horn aglow he began to slowly creep to the dampened window. The struggle outside sound like it was close to the end. The voice that had been screaming and crying out had become much weaker and Patches would no longer hear the words. All he heard was low whimpers. He knew should be moving faster but his feet wouldn't allow it. “Come on you coward move your hooves.” Patches scolded himself. A sickening kind of slurping noise came from outside followed by the sound of tearing meat, then nothing. Patches had decided there was no need to look out the window. He rushed to the door, unlocked it and slammed through it. “What the hell is going on!” He yelled pushing down his fear. He saw a dark shape of what looked like stocky stallion running away with a saddle bag bouncing as he sprinted down the street away in the opposite direction of the shop. He couldn’t tell much else about the runner. “Yeah, you better run punk.” Patches yelled his confidence finally returning to him. He looked around, the area near the train station, where his store was only about fifty yards from, was clear. The houses were dark the only light was coming from the small silver crescent in the sky and the lamppost near the train station. All that could be heard was the slight rustling of leafs blowing around. “That’s one guy you can’t fight yourself, where’s the other guy.” He scanned the ground from in front of his store. After a few moments he noticed what looked like the form of a pony, but something seemed off about it. He began to bristly walk over to the ragged form. As he drew closer, his heart beating in his ear, he could tell this guy had been through quite a lot. He was bruised and cut all over, and he had a bag over his head. “Hey buddy you ok?” Patches questioned the limp stallion, skidding to a stop and kneeling down to check on him. Now he was close he could see there was blood all around his head. “Oh, no,” He yelled jostling the poor guy, “are you ok say something.” He franticly ripped the bag off so he could see the damage. What he saw almost made him pass out. Where the stallions head should have been, there was nothing but what was left of a mutilate spine sticking out of a crimson stump. “Aaaaaahhh!!!” Patches screamed tumbling to his back scooting backward away from the monstrosity. With tears in his eyes he stood not facing the body. “I need to get help. Somepony wake up and get out here.” What was he saying? His heads gone no one can help that poor stallion. He turned and looks at the battered frame. He looked at the sickening neck stub. “I should cover that up.” He looked down at the bloody bag still in his grasp. This time something looked off about it. It was made of a thick hardy material, and it was around the same shape of a pony’s head. Where the eye should be two thick stitched x’s took their place. A long black line was sewn in where the mouth should be. The mere site of this sick representation of a head sickened him he threw I over the neck to conceal the disgusting site. He had done all he knew to do, “Time to call the cops.” _________________________________________________________________________________________________ In a Canterlot apartment building the loud ring of a cell phone rang in the room of sleeping Dexter Morgan . The strong grey stallion, with a short mane groggily began to come out of the dream world. He shuffled over to the night stand and grabbed his noisy phone. He looks at the number, his department of course “I swear if that woke Harrison up I’m gonna stab something.” Dexter sighed as he answers his phone. “Morgan? There better be a lot of blood.”