//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: The First Night 
// Story: Lavender Fate 
// by Shimmer Dale 
//------------------------------//

	Button awoke with a start, bolting upright to the sound of lightning rattling his window. Dazed, he looks over to his alarm clock, only to see that it blank, and has went out. He scoots closer along his plush bed to the nightstand to grab his wrist-watch, still working well in spite of the black-out. He has to squint a bit, using light from his bedside window to see the time: 00:13. 
This is the third time he has awoken that night in sweats, and the bags under his eyes are evidence of how exhausting it is for him to keep up like this. Button throws off the covers and stumbled out of the bed. The carpet beneath his hooves is rather soft and relieving. He never knew why, but when his mom bought this house, she made sure the carpet she had installed was very thick and fluffy. He could only imagine it was for when he was a young colt crawling on the carpet, so that he wouldn’t hurt his small shaking hooves. He never really knew, but right now it made him happy to have that bit of give into the cushion with each step.
Upon looking around, it seems that none of his devices were fried in the black-out, though he could never really tell until he was able to turn everything on to see. It was a bit eerie in his room, and from time to time he would find himself getting shivers along his spine. He never liked being alone in a dark room, especially during the rain. He always had the sinking feeling of paranoia, as if his skin was being tugged gently by little tiny ants in all directions at the same time, carefully tearing him apart. A feeling that something was going to grab him, touch him, drag him away. 
Right now he is holding all of this at bay. The lighting would light the room every now and then, and the room is relatively danger-free as it is. Button shuffles along to his dresser, pulling out the middle drawer. He begins to sort through his various shirts, looking for something to cover himself up while he went to get a drink and use the restroom. As he starts to slide a shirt over his head and hooves, his ear twitches. What is that?
The room stays quiet, though the rain continues. Turning to look around his room again, Button gets the familiar shiver down his spine. He jumps with a start: Nothing. A chuckle fills the air as the colt laughs to himself.
“C’mon now Button. There aint a thing here…just your imagination”
Shaking his head to clear his mind, he starts to his door.
That is when it starts.
The eerily held note, only elevating in volume and pitch, and then the four arpeggiated notes. Hooves cover his eyes, his ears, soon cowering on the floor, curled up in a ball. He would move but his body is filled with convulsions and spasms, shivers and gasp. The music only intensifies, distorting to a high roar, filling the room in its entirety. 
A new moisture is felt on his hooves, thick and warm. This jolts Button to his senses a bit, and he pulls his forearms down to look: it’s fresh blood. Button violently shakes his head, hoping to bring himself back to his sense and get the dull noise of water out of his ears, but only succeeds to splatter the thick saturation of red around the walls and carpet. His mom’s soft, fluffy carpet.
The sides of Button’s head is now soaked, staining his brown fur. The walls begin to shape, to morph. Concaving and arching in, and he can no longer recognize that he is in his room. Button turns his head to look, but his vision has blurred. Everything is a dark violet, and the floors lavender. There is an object ahead, shaped to a dome, a tombstone. It is blank, possessing no soul within it or a body under it. 
Button approaches it cautiously, but only manages to stumble in a stupor. His hooves can’t make a connection with the ground to where he can walk straight. Is there an earthquake going on? He can’t seem to stand still even.
When he does reach the tombstone, script begins to crack and etch its way into it, making out a single name with no cause of death: Button Mash.
A gasp forces away from his throat, before his mouth is forced shut. Button shakes his head again, scratching a hoof at his lips to pry open, only to find that it has been sewn shut with thick vine. He places his hoof down again, bowing his head in defeat.
Something else happens: The tombstone is getting taller. 
The dirt wraps around his hooves, sucking them into the earth below and burying him alive. Instinctively, Button pulls and jerks, trying to wrench his hooves free of the cool dirt. It reaches up to slink along his body, pulling lower to the ground until it can now touch his belly. Button is sinking lower and lower. In a last shot attempt, he rips his lips apart, forcing a cry of help and desperation to barely pierce over the music, not even hearing himself, as it is muffled through the thick blood filling his ears. 
That is when Button sees it: The bright white eyes cutting through the violet night, accompanied by the vicious smile beneath them. Before he is capable of reacting, the figure swoops down, heading to Button
CRACK!
There is no sound: the room isn’t moving, the music has stopped, the face has disappeared. Button is now alone with the tombstone, still slowly sinking. He is motionless, unable to move, but staring blankly. His ears and mouth bleed out, the vine stitching dangling from his mangled lips.
Slowly, his head falls from his shoulders. 
THUD! Hitting the cool earth, before tumbling between his from hooves. It is the last thing devoured into the earth below.




Button awoke with a start, bolting upright to the sound of lightning outside rattling his window. Dazed, he looks over to his alarm clock, only to see that it has went out and is blank. He scoots closer along his plush bed to the nightstand and grabs his wrist-watch, still working well in spite of the black-out. He has to squint a bit, using light from his bedside window to see the time: 00:13.
“Just a dream…” He sighs, rubbing his face and eyes.
“Just…a dream” Button repeats to himself, sure that this will help to calm him down and help him relax to sleep.


He doesn’t notice the white eyes staring at him from the end of his bed.