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// Unusual Idea 2 
// Story: Ripples 
// by BronyWriter 
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Sitting in the waiting room outside the therapist’s office, I glanced through a magazine. Many more ponies were coming in to see Dr Process or one of the other therapists who worked here since the ‘Ponyville Butcher’ incident, and as such, the waiting room was full of ponies nervously fidgeting in their seats. Dropping the magazine back onto the table in the middle of the room with a soft thud, I allowed myself a moment to reminisce. My mind wandered down memory lane, coming to a halt only a few hours earlier.

“What are you doing up this early?” Morning had asked, worry evident in his eyes and leaving his breakfast momentarily unattended. “I thought you didn’t work on the weekends.”

“Going for a walk. Be back soon.” Was what I had wanted to say, but after everything that had happened I just couldn’t lie to him. “Going to an appointment with Dr Process.”

“Cognitive Process?” he had asked incredulously, to which I simply nodded. “Well, whatever the reason you’re going to see a therapist for, I hope it goes well. For your sake.”

Morning did actually know the reason I was going to see Dr Process, but had apparently decided it best to keep his mouth shut. I was rather thankful for that gesture, because I probably would have collapsed on the ground right outside the door if he had said anything.

“Mr Concept, Dr Process will see you now.” The mare who had been stationed in the waiting room stated in a rather chipper manner, snapping me out of my reverie.

Standing and trotting into Dr Process’ office, I was whisked onto the couch by the mare in question. Even in the light of early morning, Cognitive’s alabaster coat still shined. Her blonde mane was done up in the usual bun style that she had whenever she was working, having seen it many times before as an observer.

“So,” Cognitive would start, dropping all pretense of chatting, a usual sight in her field of work, “Tell me about your nightmares, Unus.”

‘Unus’ had been a nickname that many of the townsfolk had called me back in school when we were all foals, and it had managed to stick all through my life. I didn’t really mind it that much, but it did make me feel less nervous about the whole situation. Starting from the beginning, I explained in as great detail as I could the terrors that had plagued me for many weeks now, including the interference from Princess Luna one night, and the gradually escalating goriness of it.

Needless to say, I’d have to keep coming back fairly regularly if I want any kind of reprieve from the dreams. The rest of the day went by without anything memorable happening, which was probably a good thing lately. If Trottingham became anything like Ponyville concerning freak accidents, quite a few of us would probably die of heart failure from all the stress.
Returning home late at night after walking a couple of laps of Trottingham to suss out any hills and the like that are nearby, I find Morning half-lying on the couch, drool hanging from the corner of his mouth and his skates still on his hooves. Shaking my head slightly with a small smile on my face, I lift Morning up with my magic and carry him to his room. Putting him down in his bed and removing the skates from his hooves, I gently kiss him on the forehead.

“G’night, darling.” I say quietly as I walk out of his room, closing the door behind me.

Making a tactical retreat to my own room, I flop onto my own bed and am taken almost right way into the land of my dreams.
Looking around quickly, I can’t see anything in the pitch-blackness that surrounds me, but I can hear an absurd number of locks being undone, then redone. The lights flicker on moments later, revealing the one room I hoped I’d never see again, though it looks slightly different for some reason. Looking around again, an alabaster mare approaches me, a devilish smile on her face and a tray of utensils following her.

“Y-you… can’t p-possibly be,” I stammer, tears forming in my eyes as she continues towards me. “You… You’re supposed to be dead!”

“And yet here I am,” she says, the devilish grin not even faltering for a moment. Stopping beside the table I’m strapped to, she places the tray on a smaller table by my head that I hadn’t seen. The glint of metal reflects into my eyes, forcing me to blink.

“W-where’s Morning?” I ask, looking frantically around the room for any sign of him. “Where is he? I was at home a moment ago. And so was he. Where is he? What have yo-”

“Do you mean this poor fool?” She antagonises, holding Morning’s severed head up above me, his fear-filled and glazed-over eyes staring down at me. “I dealt with him while you were still sleeping. He didn’t put up much of a fight, the rotten spoil-sport.”

“I…” I begin with a sniff, tears pouring out of my eyes at this point. “I never got to tell him that I love him.”

Dropping his head onto my barrel, she ignores my statement and turns her attention back to the tray of knives, apparently having difficulty deciding which to make the first slice with. Unable to tear my gaze away from Morning’s head, I furrow my brow and start struggling against the straps holding me to the table. Focusing my pain and magic into my legs, I manage to break the straps holding my hind legs down and preventing the blood from circulating down there.

“Don’t bother.” She starts without even turning to face me, still focused on her knives. “You won’t be able to bre-”

“Buck you, you stupid bitch,” I spit, punching her in the face with enough force to send her into a wall and shatter some of her teeth. Walking up to her limp form, I consider just leaving now and trying to start my life over again in a new town, probably Cloudsdale. Noticing her smirk and laugh like some kind of madmare, I instead decide that some retribution is at hoof.

“This is for Morning,” I say before kicking her in the chest as hard as I can, the momentum carrying her into the wall and forcing her to spit up some blood. “And this,” I continue as I walk around her and approach her head, lowering mine until I could easily clench her horn in my teeth. “Ish for my shishter.”

Before she can make some snide comment about her horn being in my mouth, I clench down on it as hard as I can, channelling my magic into my teeth to strengthen them so that they can actually crush bone. Screaming out in pain as her horn begins to crack, she starts kicking at my head in a desperate attempt to make me stop, her blows mostly deflected by the small reserve of magic I have left over from its greatly increased usage. With an ear-splitting screech and a bone-shattering crunch, I back away from her and turn to walk towards the door.

“I won’t stoop to your level, monster.” I say nonchalantly while opening locks, her horn still in my mouth, which I already slid over between my teeth and cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t hit you the one place I know it hurts.”

Opening the final lock and swinging the door wide, I feel something puncture my chest and scream out in pain.

“You can’t escape from here unless I say so, you foal,” the monster says venomously, while my vision becomes darker and darker.

“AHHHH!” I wake up with a scream, sitting up and rolling onto the floor.

“What? What is it?” Morning calls as he barges into my room, finding me curled up in the fetal position in the corner and crying. “Hey, come on.” He continues soothingly. “Was it her again?”

And then I explained to him my worst encounter with the monster of Ponyville.