Dead of the Night
Warm air surrounded me, and comforted me as I sat down next to my father, who lifted his head out of the Ponyville Post just to smile at me. Eight in the evening and we had finished our dinner. I finished helping my mum in the kitchen with the cleaning whilst dad sat down in the living room so as to not put pressure on his leg. He broke it recently and each time he forgot about the injury and tried to use the limb, he would scream.
He stroked my mane as he folded the paper away and grinned at me, nuzzling my cheek with his muzzle. If this was in public, then I might have blushed, but we were alone so it was fine. Mother was almost finished in the kitchen, and we could hear her calling out to us, asking if we wanted to have any fruit. Dad said apples, and I went for oranges, only to be told that we had ran out of the tangy delicacy. It was a bit disappointing, but it wasn’t anything to be depressed about, so I just told her I’ll have some apples too and waited for her to come join us.
A few minutes later, my mother came into the living room, carrying a tray with three small bowls on it, each filled with identical slices of fruit. She sat down next to my father in her own chair and I trotted over to her, resting myself on the round table placed conveniently between both seats, sandwiched by my parents. Dad laughed at me and leaned forward, reaching for a cushion on the ground and handing it to me so I could rest on something soft.
We chatted for a while and I mostly talked about my day in school. As usual it was mundane and boring, but it was something that I just had to live with. There were things that I could only ever let my mother and father know, and nopony else. If they ever found out, then I’d be ruined. Everypony in school thinks I’m cool, and after they saw my skills with my scooter, they’ve been begging me to teach them. I can’t let them know that secretly, I’m an egghead.
If they found out about my love of reading, my reputation would be over, and I could never be like my idol, Rainbow Dash. One of the biggest reasons I like her so much, is that she never reads, and I wish I could do that so I don’t have to live a lie anymore, but I can’t do that. I just love books so much; I can’t bear to leave them. My reputation isn’t worth giving them up for, and it never will be, not even if I’m as cool as her.
Today was a Friday, and mum was talking about how she was really tired from work. She works for the Ponyville Post Office, and she along with Miss Derpy deliver parcels and packages to all the ponies from here to Canterlot. She told me that today she had to fly all over the place and that the object she transferred was incredibly heavy. When she stood up and did a little imitation of how she flew, with her eyes all googly and her wings aflutter, I almost died from laughing. Dad was cracking up too, and I don’t think he could have stopped if mum didn’t stuff his mouth with apple slices.
Time went by pretty quickly and before we knew it, the clock declared it to be nine, and it was only an hour until my curfew. Technically it was a Friday, and my curfew doesn’t usually apply on Fridays, but mother said that she had something planned for the three of us tomorrow, and that I needed to wake up extra early. I hadn’t a clue what it was, but after reading all those mystery novels and detective stories, I couldn’t help but want to find out.
Dad sensed that I was getting too engrossed with my thoughts again and tried to bring me back to reality. He nudged me on my shoulder and pointed to the store room, urging me to look at it. Without a word I knew what he meant and in an instant my gaze darted over to my mother who returned it with a look of approval. Delight and elation in my step, I skipped over to the door with my puny wings flapping like crazy, and dove into the small, cramped room.
Haphazardly, I slammed the door shut and leapt over to my parents who by this time had already placed their flanks on the floor, and waited for my return, their Cutie Marks even more prominent as they sat. My mother’s was a postage stamp emblazoned on her flank, laced with dotted lines and painted in dark cerulean. My father’s was completely different, and all he had was a ball. There was nothing more to it than an ordinary, brick-red ball, with a glistening shine on the top of it.
Of a sudden, I felt my spirits sink as I recalled a fact and stared at my own flank, bare and blank like the heavens on the cloudy day, or the expanse of piercing cold ice when the lake freezes over. A sigh leaked out of my mouth and indubitably, my parents heard it. With nothing more than a dumb grin plastered on their faces, they reached out to me and pulled me closer, locking all three of us in a tight and loving embrace.
That was always enough, and it would always calm me down when I needed comfort, or when I was riled up. I gently placed the thin box that I carried on the ground between all three of us, and lifted the lid, revealing the board and pieces that were inside. It was a fun game that we would often play together, and sometimes when I went over to a friend’s house they’d have the same game, and we would enjoy it together. I could never let my friends come to my house, because that would mean they would be able to learn of my secret egg headed-ness.
The objective was simple, but the gameplay was tough and relied entirely on chance and probability. Both of my parents had a degree in mathematics of one kind or another, so they were both pretty adept at calculating every move they should make. It was one of the things that they had passed down to me, and that was why whenever I played with my friends, I would win. Despite knowing exactly what they needed to do to win though, they always let me take all the glory. Each time I knew it was all a little white lie, but I’m just a filly, and I prefer it this way.
Inevitably, the tenth hour after the high noon sun came and brought with it the promise of a night full attractive imagery, and a heavenly orchestra. With great displeasure and melancholy, we had to end the game before the riveting climax and conclusion, and I had to put it away, so I returned it to the store room.
Once again following the monotonous nocturnal cycle of trotting up the stairs after bidding my parents goodnight and hugging them both whilst letting them peck both of my cheeks, brushing my pearly white teeth and monitoring them in the bathroom window just before I doused my visage with cool, refreshing water from the tap, I headed to my room, and leapt onto the bed.
I didn’t even bother to turn on the light when I entered and instead just located my bed under cover of almost complete darkness. From on top of my covers I spotted the single brittle yet brilliant sliver of transcendent luminescence, piercing through the still air and protruding from the hardwood floor. I contemplated whether or not I should close it, but lethargy got the best of me, and I left it as it was, ignoring it as I worked into my covers and lay in the foetal position.
Time passed by me and ignored my presence as it brought about the change of events and the shift in reality. Even with one ear pressed against the delectably soft and fluffy pillow as I lay on my side and tried to rest my eyes, I heard the hoofsteps of my parents from outside of my bedroom as they no doubt made their way up the stairs and into their own room. As I turned my head slightly to watch their shadows pass by my open door and to listen for the click as they gently closed their own door, I noticed that they forgot to turn off the light in the hallway.
I thought that it would be a good thing if I got up and turned it off, but I really didn’t want to, and even though I’m ten, I’m still somewhat frightened of the dark. Lying there in my bed I was able to think silently to myself and mentally watch as my thoughts danced around in my head, playing charades with me. A few things became apparent to me again like it did on so many nights, but something was different about tonight.
I’m so young, but I’ve already made so many bad decisions in life. Ever since I was small I was ashamed of who I really was and kept that a secret from the ponies that didn’t already know. Now it had become second nature, and there’s no way that I can just stop it with ease. I even went as far as to beg my teachers to hide from my classmates how well I was doing. Each time I got an A, Cheerilee would read it out as an F, and just like that I tricked everypony.
I planned on telling everypony someday, but I just wanted it to be a time when they would be less immature and more understanding. They think they can tolerate everypony, but they’re still just fillies, and there’s a limit as to how much their minds can take. It’s horrible having so much pressure on you, especially when you’re so young, but I dug this hole and it’s nopony’s problem but mine. I’ll think of some way out though. I always do.
Before I knew it, my eyes felt heavy, and the sight of the glow-in-the-dark stickers that I spaced evenly across the four, otherwise plain walls just dulled my mind and erased my troubled thoughts, replacing them with the promise of a peaceful night’s sleep. Seconds later, I faded out of consciousness, and the night loomed over me, keeping watch.
Gently, I peeled my eyelids open and rubbed them with my hooves, wiping away the thin layer of crust that collected during the few hours of sleep I actually got. A stupor-inducing yawn crept out of my mouth, and echoed throughout the moderately sized and filled with books bedroom. Sitting up, I massaged my back and listened as my spine cracked like my fetlocks would, and ruffled my fuchsia mane with the other hoof as I came out of my sluggish state of mind.
For the first few minutes after my leaving the world of delicious, frosted dreams, I sat there motionless and thought about absolutely nothing. No subject could make its way into my mind and intrigue me enough so that I would start contemplating it. Instead, I just realised that I needed to get up and move soon or else there would be a disaster.
With that thought in mind, I dragged my body out from under my toasty bed sheets and betrayed my body to the icy chill of the still air. A shiver shot down my spine with unbelievable speed and forced my entire body to convulse as I headed towards the slightly open door and approached the single arrow of light. Pulling it open, I stepped through and felt a burning sting in my forehead as I squinted at the florescent light bulb high up in the hallway, illuminating the path to the loo.
Slowly, I made my way into the bathroom and found myself staring straight at the porcelain seat. I was too lazy to lock the door and fairly convinced that there was no way anypony was going to walk in on me, so I just sat down and prepared to pee. Just before I was completely ready, I noticed the yellow liquid in the bottom of the toilet and found myself chuckling under my breath as I realised my father must have been here just before me, and forgot to flush.
Moments later a deafening roar resonated through the entirety of the house and only then when it was far too late did I realise that there was a reason my father didn’t flush. Cursing my own stupidity, I washed my hooves and dried them off before heading back to my room, this time turning off the light in the hallway. The exact second the light disappeared, I felt a primal sense in me kick in, and my stomach seemed to sink lower than it already was.
It was obvious that I was letting fear get the best of me, but despite my best efforts I couldn’t stop myself from imagining various monsters and ghouls creeping up on me in the dark, and I just had to flap my little wings in a futile attempt to take flight and duck under my warm and safe covers. Without a problem, I resumed my position in the groove worn into the old mattress, and nestled my head into the saliva stained pillow. I was sure that I was safe.
A long period of time seemed to pass, and I still didn’t manage to get to sleep at all. I kept repositioning myself in my bed, trying to find the most comfortable pose and finally resume my sleep and revisit the world of dreams to see that delectable delight again. It was no use and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t fall asleep. I just kept turning around and eventually I noticed the plain quartz clock on the wall, proclaiming it to be a quarter past two and I just lay there in the dead of the night, awake.
Some more minutes passed and the only thing I could do that seemed mundane enough to make me drowsy was count sheep in my head, but even that proved unsuccessful. As more and more time passed, the silence weighed down on my consciousness like a rock dragging a pony into the dark abyss of the ocean, until it became too much. Luckily, it broke before my psyche did.
A low creaking sound came from the other side of the hall and I recognised it as the sound that the door to my parents’ room makes when you open it. There was a click, and the lights came on again. It took me a while, but when I turned my head and watched as two shadows crept past my door, perverting the even spread of luminescence that barely seeped into my room through the space between the door and the floor, I realised that my parents were awake, and that they were headed downstairs.
I was really tempted to get up and go greet them, but I knew that would have only gotten me into a lot of trouble. If they knew I was still awake at such an ungodly hour, then they would probably stray from their pattern of being cool-headed parents, and go berserk instead. If it weren’t for the fear of them yelling at me, I would have flown out of bed and tackled them to the floor for no reason other than just wanting to feel their touch.
Pushing that thought out of my head, I went back to trying to convince my douchebag brain to shut up and stop filling my mind with philosophical thoughts unbefitting of a ten year old filly, and to just let me sleep. Sadly my cries fell on deaf ears and despite all my efforts and urging, profound analysis and contemplation of existence took place in my head as I witnessed it all.
Eventually, I came to a pretty interesting conclusion that life itself was pointless, and insubstantial. I’m sure that this wasn’t my own original conclusion, and that it was probably taken from somepony else, but I understood what they meant at least. Nothing could ever last forever and stand the ultimate test of time. Nothing and nopony is immortal, and there is an eventual end to everything, both physically and spiritually.
The existence of spirits and souls wasn’t what I argued about with myself, but I just thought about how with ample time everypony’s existence could and would be erased from history. It wasn’t a nice thought that everypony you know and love is destined to die and to be forgotten, but thoughts of this nature were very rarely nice, and usually just showed me the banality of life.
Despite all this though, I’m still convinced that life is worth living, even if only for that short amount of time where your presence on the face of the Earth can matter. There was no denying that my conclusion was right and that in the end it was all just a matter of time, but that’s not what’s important. Ponies aren’t perfect, and they have their own flaws. These flaws define us and we live our lives trying to erase them before time erases us. In the end though, I just prefer living a meaningful life, because it’s just a lot more fun to live a lie like that. A lie that’s much more preferable to the truth.
A lot of time passed with me in my bed pretty much motionless apart from the occasional twitch, and I begged for something interesting to happen. Of a sudden, I heard a yelp followed almost immediately by a scream. Instantly, my body propped up and I heard the dull sound of something falling to the ground twice. With my interest piqued more than it should have been at the blood-curdling shriek, curiosity got the best of me, and I got out of bed.
Carefully, I made my way over to my door and saw that the hallway was completely empty. I dared not flap my wings for fear that there was an intruder, and that if I did then he’d know where I was, and that I was conscious. Barely making a sound with my hooves and trotting with baited breath, I peered down the flight of stairs and saw something that brought more of that primal instinct from earlier.
The fine hairs that made up my coat all stood on end as I saw the thick, oozing liquid sprayed onto the wall with the splatter pattern still apparent, droplets heading for the ground. I felt it coming out, and before it saw the light of the fluorescent light bulbs I slammed a hoof to my mouth and stifled it before I ran back to my room, making far too much noise.
Careful not to slam the door, I made sure it was closed and then buried my face in my pillow, smelling the oddly quaint and calming odour. Hoofsteps came through the door, and I hadn’t a clue what I should do. Eventually the thought occurred to me that I should run, but before I could I heard the doorknob rattle and as such, I sunk back under my covers, and stole one single glance at the quartz clock on the wall.
I was facing the direction of the door since my bed was directly opposite it, and I curled up under the covers as I replayed the final image I saw before I submerged myself into darkness. Exactly three in the very early morning. I should be asleep, but instead I was here, and this thing was making its way into my room. I lifted the covers ever so slightly and made sure that they wouldn't notice me, making a small gap so I could finally see them.
Before me, trotting closer and closer, I saw some sort of creature drag my limp and motionless parents behind it. It approached the bed and I was ready to wet myself when it seemed to stare right at me. Before I could fully take note of any of its features however, it dumped my parents on top of me, and left them there as it diverted its attention to the walls of my room.
Through the thin blankets that covered my head and shielded me from the beast, I could taste the smell of iron and nausea-inducing blood as it danced and taunted my taste-buds, threatening to make me sick. I had to hold it in though, since any indicator that I was awake, and I’d be like my parents, and I didn’t want to be. I wasn’t ready to die yet.
The first thing I did after the horror set in was shut my eyes tight and repeat the same thing over and over again in my head. I kept telling myself to go to sleep, and that when I woke up, it would all be over. I kept saying that it was all just some horrifically vivid dream, and that it wasn’t real. I kept saying it. Go to sleep, go to sleep, and go to sleep! But it didn’t work.
There was no use, and I couldn’t follow my own advice. Every now and then, I would peer out and I would notice that the monster was drawing on the walls of my room with the chalk it found on my table top. All I saw at first was just a plain, white circle, but something even more sinister came with it. It was just a five-pointed star drawn so that each point of the star was on the circumference of the circle. It was nothing more than just a few basic shapes, but for some reason it was just terrifying, and I was petrified.
There was only one thing that I could do to keep sane and calm, and that was to count the individual ticks of the clock as every second passed by. I’ve always loved numbers secretly, and this was the only thing that could soothe me without my parents. Eight thousand, eight hundred, and eighty-seven ticks. A very special number. It took a while, but after I crunched the numbers, I realised that it had to be at least half-past five in the morning now. So much time had passed, and it was still here.
The only thing that I could think of doing was to run out screaming and pray to Celestia that somepony hears me, but even if they did I would still die before they could do anything. I was frozen in place, and I didn’t know what to do. My parents were right there, but they were useless, pointless, and lifeless. I wanted to feel their touch one more time, but it was already too late. The insubstantiality of life kicked in, and theirs withered away at the hooves of this thing.
I didn’t want to die, and I still had so many things that I wanted to do with my life but never got the chance to. I never found my calling in life, I never got my Cutie Mark, I never learned how to fly, and I never told my friends about the real me. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Rainbow Dash -- they meant so much to me, and I never had the heart to tell them just how important they were, and how much my life depended on them. With nothing but despair and regret in my mind, I nuzzled against the outline of my mother against my bed sheets and sobbed silently, staining the inside of the covers.
I had to do something, because I couldn’t stay here forever, and if I did then sooner or later it would kill me. I would have to leave everything behind, and escape. I needed to get as far as I could, and that was the only chance I had of surviving. Peeping once more out from under my covers, I tried to assess the situation, and get a firm grasp on my environment --even though I knew my bedroom like the back of my hoof.
From where I lay, I could see the cyclic five-point star on the wall, and the creature itself standing before my door with a hoof lifted, doodling something on it. The inside of my covers was brighter than my room and my eyes had to adjust in order to see the finer details of everything around me. After it finished its bloody message on my mahogany door, I knelt down on the floor, and collapsed. Its limbs sprawled on the ground, stretching its body out, letting me see it a lot more clearly.
The face was invisible to me, and the only thing I could make out from it was the devilish smirk that peered at me. What I could only assume was a mane was entirely straight and void of difference and diversity. In the darkened lighting of the room we were in, I made her hair out to be either magenta or rosy pink, but I couldn’t tell that well. The tail was almost the same as the mane, save for the bloodstains that stretched the entire length of the hairs. The body in between the two masses of hair was of a small, petite frame, and had almost no muscle on it at all. How it managed to overpower and kill both of my parents was a mystery to me, but I knew that it didn’t matter, since if it was enough to end their lives, it would be enough to end mine.
I had to get out as quickly as I could, and I had to make sure that it wouldn’t get me. The window was locked, and opening it would take too long. If I was to fly out through the door of my room, then I’d have to know how to fly, and travel past it, making myself an easy target. There didn’t seem to be a way out, and as I tried not to toss and turn too much, I found myself staring out of the gap in the covers again, and staring at the message scrawled onto the wooden surface in my parents’ blood. My heart skipped a beat, and all hope was lost.
“I know you’re awake.”