Professor Phylum adjusted his glasses as he turned from the blackboard to look back at the auditorium. For what was perhaps the first time this semester, his entire classroom was staring at him with rapt attention.
“In conclusion, the “parasang”, or more commonly referred to as the “blood parasprite”, is indigenous to the Everfree Forest. It typically feeds off birds native to the area by hiding in their feathers and feeding on their blood while they sleep. Their proboscises, used for sucking blood from the victim, are so microscopically small that they cannot be seen by the average pony eye. The same can be said for the indents they leave in the skin.”
“When consuming the blood of prey, they simultaneously replace it with a secreted venom into the bloodstream that, over time, proves fatal to its avian host in a variety of ways. This includes, but is not limited to fever, chills, muscle aches, and in the worst case, hallucinations that render them flightless, often in mid-air, causing them to crash into the ground or trees.”
The professor placed his notes on the table before him. He glanced at the clock, noticing that his lecture period was drawing to a close. Damn it, and just when he was on a roll, too.
“I hope you have all taken good notes today; this will be on next week’s exam.”
A brief silence filled the room.
“Professor Phylum?” A blue mare in the front row raised her hoof.
He raised his eyebrows at the inquiry. One of his students actually engaged enough to ask a question, heaven forbid. “Yes, Sunflower?”
“You mentioned earlier that a pony fell victim to this… parasprite. What happened to her?” asked Sunflower.
The professor’s expression dropped slightly. He sighed through his nostrils. “It was a truly unfortunate incident, considering it happened to a very renowned pony over forty-six years ago. However, it is also the only case study on record.” He adjusted his glasses again, looking back at his notes. “Like its cousins, whom we discussed earlier, the blood parasprite’s appetite grows with its size. The more blood it consumes, the bigger it gets.” He stepped around his desk to the front of the auditorium stage, magically levitating his notes with him.
“In this particular case, the creature hid itself within the victim’s feather pillow, which was made from the feathers of a previous avian host. It would emerge and sap more blood from the victim each time she fell asleep… until the victim withered away to nothing.” He noticed the mare’s nervous expression. “There’s no need to worry. Due to this case study alone, scientists have taken precautions to the matter, which is why most bed pillows are now made from down. And unlike the pillow in question, all feather pillows today are thoroughly cleaned by professionals before distribution.”
Silence. The students looked down the auditorium at Professor Phylum, unsure of what to say or ask next - whether from awe at the story or because they were impatient for lunch, he wasn’t sure. It was depressing that such a sad story had less effect on them as somepony dropping a tray in the cafeteria.
The bell exploded in sound, causing a clutch of ponies to jump in their seats. The clamor was followed shortly by the sound of students shuffling from their desks and packing their bags.
“Remember your exams are next week,” the professor called vainly. “And your midterm papers are due the following Friday!” He fell to half-shouting over the noise. “Have a good weekend, everypony! And don’t forget to-”
The door slammed shut behind the last student.
“-study up on the para-... never mind.”
Professor Phylum glanced once more at his carefully constructed notes, with all the dates and names of the ponies involved in the parasang incident.
He carefully shuffled and stacked pieces of parchment in his magic and returned to his office.