The sun drenched, tropical paradise of Janeighca- home to beautiful beaches, succulent seaweed dishes and the driest, most devoid of color rock farm Joe had ever encountered. A low gentle breeze carried a fog of dust that carpeted the cracked, ugly soil that had not seen water in years. nondescript rocks and crooked dead trees dotted the otherwise flat, bleak landscape. As Joe walked across the dead earth, loose dust danced in the air around him in a ghostly cloud that irritated his nose. Everything on the farm had been drained of life and color. Everything was veiled by a film of dirt. The ground was dirty. The rocks were dirty. The dilapidated, unpainted buildings were dirty. The air was dirty. The dirt was dirty. Joe could feel the dirt clinging to his body in an attempt to add him to the collection of lifeless, miserable scenery.
The noon sun sat high in the sky in a futile attempt to combat the pervading chill. Across the barren field Joe could make out a flicker of color. An old pony with a dark green coat and a face of cracked leather slowly pushed a small boulder across the dead field. He held his head low to the ground as he pushed the rock with his muzzle so that the tendrils of his pepper grey mane nearly touched the ground, creating the illusion of a large sickly spider scuttling along the field.
Joe approached Professor Grey Granite and wondered how it must feel to constantly move around solid rock using only the force provided by one’s head. “Hey there, Professor.” Joe said rather sheepishly. His voice carried farther than he anticipated and its sound lingered in the air as it echoed through the death.
Professor Granite, his work interrupted, stared upwards at his visitor. His leathery face looked even more worn and tattered than usual in the dry air. Through the spidery tendrils that covered his face, Joe could see eyes as vacant as a corpse. His eyelids were half-closed and from the corners oozed a sickly ick. Professor Granite stared at Joe as he would stare at any nondescript rock.
“We met yesterday, remember?” said Joe uncomfortably, “At the club?”
Professor Granite continued to stare at Joe through eye ooze and tangled bangs. “Hello, Mr, Mane.” said Granite in a scratchy voice drier than the farm itself. “What brings you to my humble little farm?”
Unable to shake the feeling he was being eyed by a starving vulture, Joe awkwardly reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out the small receipt he purloined from Strange Ways’ desk.
“Found this receipt in Strange Ways’ estate.” he said, “It’s your’s, right?”
Granite took the receipt from Joe but his eyes remained fixated on Joe for several moments before he actually read the receipt.
“Let me see here. Ah yes. Strange Ways came to me with a couple of rock samples he found. Claimed they possessed magical qualities and had me run some tests on them.”
Granite nonchalantly crumpled the paper in his hoof. Joe nonchalantly took the receipt back and returned it to his pocket. “And did they?” Joe asked.
“No.” the Professor said with disinterest. “Just ordinary old rocks commonplace in this area. Just goes to show geology isn’t for everypony.”
Whether the phlegm congested hacking that Granite produced next was some sort of laugh or a fit of coughing, Joe couldn’t tell. “Where were the samples taken?” Joe asked.
“Oh I’m sure I wouldn't know” Granite returned to facing the rock he was moving and pressed his forehead against it once again. He grunted as he talked and strained against the boulder at the same time. “They could have been taken from anywhere.”
“Cockatrice Key, perhaps?” Joe asked as naturally as he could. His attention was fixated on Granite and his reaction.
Granite stopped pushing against the stone. He glared at Joe from the slimy corner of his drooping eye. “Most definitely not!” he gargled with vigor.
“Why not?”
“Not geologically possible.” Granite calmed his tone. His speech was back to sounding like draining sand as opposed to a rock slide.
“Can I see the samples?” Joe persisted,
Granite snarled his leathery face. Joe could see the patience draining from Granite along with his eye gunk.
“No!” Granite’s voice was once again a rock slide. “I’m sorry, but I threw them away.”
The perturbed professor pushed against his boulder again, this time with much more force. Joe knew he couldn’t afford to push his questioning any further.
“Alright.” Joe said with friendly professionalism, “Thank you for your time, Professor. I’ll be off.”
Joe turned around and marched back across the barren field of the rock farm. Granite stopped his labor and watched Joe walk farther and farther away into the dusty fog until he himself was no bigger than a grain of sand. Once he knew that Joe was well gone, he marched off in the opposite direction leaving his boulder behind. Granite took a small trail behind the barn that was hidden by brown, dead brush. The trail lead to a small dock- only big enough for a single boat to moor. That boat was a rusty old fishing dinghy with a crude steam engine stuck on the back.
A creature slept atop the wheelhouse. His matted, mangy brown fur was full of dirt. In his sleep, he stretched his hind leg and scratched behind his ear with claws caked black with mud. A bright orange life vest was fitted around his torso.
“You! Mutt!” Granite yelled out to the Diamond Dog.
The beast was startled and awoke with a yelp. It glared down at the pony from atop his perch, irritated at being woken up. “What is it you want, pony?” said the high pitched dog.
“I need to go to Cockatrice Key!” Granite said gravely with his gravelly voice. The Diamond Dog shrunk in fear. His legs shook and his ears lowered.
“But you know rules!” It said trembling, “No boats during day!”
“I’ll take all responsibility! It’ an emergency!”
hesitantly, the panicked Diamond Dog hopped off of the wheel house and untied the moor. He pulled out some coal and gems from a small compartment beneath the motor and placed them down the fuel chute. With a few turn of a crank, the engine boiled and whistled. Granite hopped aboard the boat just as the Diamond Dog took the wheel and shoved off.
Grey Granite’s entire body convulsed uncontrollably. The large metal door mechanically slip open in front of him with a ghastly grinding. Granite fought against the paralyzing dread and ventured into the stale white room. The very air of the room felt heavier than a thousand boulders. Granite was barely through the threshold when a distant voice echoed through the silent chamber.
“Sit down.”
Granite nearly collapsed to his knees under the horrible pressure of the disembodied command. The demonic echoes of the voice lingered in Granite’s ears, torturing his mind. In the near corner of the room, a green wisp of magical flame erupted from the ground. The flames bubbled with darkness and when the evil glow diminished, a simple metal chair waited for Granite to take his place. The icy touch of the metal burned Granite’s rump. His eyes darted around the room. He continued to shake in fear of that which he could not see. Other than the chair, the room remained empty. But the far side of the room was cloaked in an unearthly shadow. It was a palpable darkness. heavy and formless.
“Why have you broken my most important rule by coming here during daylight?” the horrible voice echoed from the darkness.
“I’m sorry, sir,” it took all Granite had to give sound to his speech, “but I thought you should know. Con Mane. He’s growing suspicious of Cockatrice Key. He may come here.”
The blackness billowed and writhed. The weight of the room grew even more unbearable.
“I should hope not.” answered the darkness, “If he does you will be held responsible.” the very sound of the voice seemed to wrap itself around Granite’s throat. He tried to swallow his nerves but the tightness was too painful.
“But what if he informs Canterlot? He must be taken care of.”
The darkness pulsed in anger. “I already sent out orders to have him killed. It is you who have failed.”
Granite could feel the pressure on his neck grow tighter.
“That wasn't my fault!” He yelped in a desperate plea, “It was the driver who failed to kill him!”
the raging storm of utter blackness calmed. The darkness wafted with the coolness of night and the choking sensation dissipated. “Very well,” The darkness said with welcoming cynicism, “I shall give you one more chance to ‘take care of him.’”
On the other side of the room, just before the dark veil, another eruption of flickering green and bubbling black emerged. What materialized was a simple wooden stand. Sitting atop the stand was a small iron cage, though it was too far away for Granite to see what was inside.
“Approach the cage.” ordered the voice.
The thought of taking even a single step closer to the infinite blackness filled Granite’s body with dread. But the fear of what would happen had he disobeyed motivated him to move forward. Each hoofstep towards the cage felt like a mile and the entire journey felt as if it had taken days. However, Granite was eventually close enough to see the inside of the cage. Staring back at him, with eight glistening eyes, was a large, hairy black spider. The creature was the size of a hoof and a pair of massive fangs protruded from the gruesome creature’s head. The spider stared at Granite with intriguing fascination. As Granite approached, the spider’s legs danced with anticipation and the massive fangs moistened in hunger.
“Pick it up.” the voice ordered. The trembling professor’s mind was so panicked he could barely remember his own name. “Pick it up!” The darkness exploded in anger.
Granite whimpered pathetically as he held out a hoof towards the handle of the cage. As he drew near, one of the spider’s spindly legs clamped onto the iron bars and stuck its dripping fangs through the gaps. Granite instinctively withdrew his hoof.
“What is this thing?” Granite asked through his chattering teeth,
“That is a Medusarantula.” The darkness answered, “One bite from its poisonous fangs, and the victim turns to stone.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with--”
“You know what to do.”
Granite gulped loudly. He felt as though the spider’s poison had already affected him. He couldn't move. He didn't dare move a muscle. He remained fixated in fear at the monstrosity before him.
“Now go!” The Darkness exploded. The darkness swirled like a raging storm. tendrils of unimaginable blackness reached out to engulf Granite. The heat of the black shape’s wrath scorched the air. In a flash of nerves, Granite grabbed the cage’s handle in his teeth and stormed out of the white room until it was overcome by the black shadow. As Granite raced back to the safety of his boat, Granite was haunted by a distant laughter. It was a laugh more horrible than any nightmare. A nightmare from which Granite felt he could never escape.
Joe slept comfortably in his bed at the hotel. The room was small and simple which made it very cozy. Joe wasn't too keen on the decorations though. The room was painted with a traditional Zebra flair- or, to put it more accurately, what wealthy mainland tourists stereotypically thought was traditional Zebra flair. Still the bed was very comfortable and the inner parts of the city were peaceful at night so he slept soundly. Joe’s sleep was so heavy that he didn't notice his door slowly creaking open. The worn, cracked hooves of a dark green pony slowly and silently crept across the room. The pony’s leathery mouth lowered a small iron cage onto the foot of the bed and carefully opened the tiny door; careful as to keep away from the jaws of the small, yet deadly, creature within.
“Pleasant dreams, Mr. Mane.” the intruder said in a hoarse whisper, “I hope you sleep like a rock.” He gargled a chuckle and crept out of the room just as silently as he entered.
Joe still peacefully slumbered as a spindly, black spider happily scuttled across the top of his bed sheets. Joe shifted slightly. With an incoherent mumble, he unconsciously kicked some of the sheets off of him, exposing more of his bare chest. The spider disappeared somewhere in the folds.
A deep red hoof rubbed some lotion on his chest. Joe was laying back on a large beach towel on a tropical, sandy shore. The sun sat high in the sky and he listened to the melody of the crashing waves as he pillowed his head with his hooves. Laying on the blanket beside him was a beautiful deep red mare with a blue black mane that covered one of her ice blue eyes. She smiled gently as she warmly muzzled his coat. She continued to massage the lotion across his body. She finished with his chest and then moved up to his tense shoulders. The tension melted away as she caressed them. She squirted another drop into her hooves from the lotion bottle and stole one of his forelegs from behind his head. She applied the irritatingly itchy lotion to his arm with her prickly black hooves. Her touch scratched and tickled him painfully. He looked up and stared into her eight glowing red eyes, pleading for her to stop.
Joe opened his eyes to darkness. The sheets of his bed cradled the lower half of his body, drenched with sweat. Joe breathed in relief at the end of the horrid dream. The strange nightmare was so real, he could’ve sworn he could still feel that unpleasant itchiness on his hoof. No, he realized. He could still feel it. He could feel the tingling prickle of tiny hairs, and it was moving up his arm. As Joe’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he slowly tilted his head towards his exposed foreleg. A large, sickly black spider was slowly climbing its way up his arm towards his bare shoulder. The creature’s eye were glowing red with hunger and its large fangs glistened and drooled with deadly venom.