Sweetie Belle churns, clenching her stomach. With each strike of thunder, she curls tighter and tighter. She always got upset stomachs on thundering nights such as this, and anything Rarity gave her never seemed to ease her to slumber.
Her dream was very mixed, and unclear. When she gazed, it was through a mist and haze. When she attempts to trot, the normal CLOP of her hooves rapping against the ground is replaced by the cushion of clouds and air. She is neither walking nor floating, but seems to be suspended in place. The area around her is puffy as if she really were surrounded by clouds, though she knows to think otherwise.
The land around her is flaked with white puffs, deepening to a light pink towards the middle of each tuft of vapor. In the distance, it all eventually fades into an ambient atmosphere of pink and shadows, showing no beginning or end to the world around her. Each time the lightning cracks in the background, the puffs pulsate and turn a dark black to gray in uniform to the original pink to white.
It is all very unstable, and the tufts are constantly moving, shaping themselves into new patterns and designs for her, similar to normal cloud activity. She holds her breath, feeling as if suspended in water, though she never seems to run out. She is weightless yet connected to a floor below her, dragged down constantly as she is pulled deeper into the murky abyss below.
As she descends, something begins to egg on to her, piercing through the filtered air around her ears. A soft whisper almost, only seeming to hear the vowels that do touch the inner of her ear.
“Elp….Help…..” it cries, louder and ever louder the closer she gets to what she presumes to be the bottom. What was the bottom? Was it when her hooves finally hit a last layer of clouds? Was there a last layer, or just a continuing descending?
Her ears twist once again, the pleas now somewhat overwhelming. She finally feels a solid contact with some type of ground below her, and a little opening appears in the clouding mist in front of her.
Within this opening, it is similar to a screen, much like a wizard’s magic orb. Images begin to shape and formulate in small waves, ripples in a small pool of water, reflecting similar to a mirror. As the image forms, a dark room formulates, a bed…a dresser…a nightstand….a small lump in the middle of the mattress. What was this? It shivered a bit from time to time, somewhat convulsing as if in constant fear of something.
What was it afraid of? There was nothing in this room aside from the dark.
Sweetie tries to swim her way closer, to get a better view of this image she is being shown. She can almost make out detail. Brown pelt…a tan mane…a joystick cutie mark.
Upon Sweetie Belle’s realization, this is Button Mash.
She swims ever closer to the mirror-like pool, wanting to reach out to comfort Button...to touch him and let him know it is okay. That nothing can hurt him now. She was here, she wasn't going to let any-pony hurt her Button.
But she only managed to touch cloud, a weightless fluff her hooves sink into. It was cool to the touch, moistening the fur on her hooves. They cooled in the wind.
The screen ripples at her touch, dissipating, and fading slowly, her hoof causing the image to break. It was now a golden pool of ripples, nothing more. She can only manage to watch aimlessly as it began to shift and formulate into another image....this one almost hazed and blurred, as if it were recorded on an older camera.
In it, she sees a deep purple wall surrounding, lavender floors. The land was bare...except for one tombstone. Then it was Button again. He looked absolutely terrified, his small hooves wobbling as they could barely support his small weight on the ground, his eyes widened in shock from some unseen force to her. Something was terrorizing him, haunting him within his dreams.
Button suddenly falls to the ground, covering hooves over his ears. His eyes clenched, Sweetie could tell he was in trouble, but heard no sound. Something was hurting his ears, and she couldn’t hear it.
That was when the blood began to trickle. Sweetie gasped, falling back from the screen a bit at the sight alone. Rarity had always taught her that ladies do not play with blood or other body secretions. It is simply not done.
But all that was aside, as she saw that Button was hurt...and in pain. He walked forward, splattering his blood everywhere. The walls were painted with his crimson flow. His eyes hazed, glazing over as he began to show exhausting from the pain in his ears alone. He looked sickly, his eyes beginning to sag and bag, his hooves convulsing to even support his weight.
Sweetie Belle becomes weak at the gruesome sight, covering her mouth to turn away. She felt the familiar tightening in her throat, the squeezing of her chest, the projection of substance past her neck.
She heaved deeply, pushing hard. But no fluid came out. She gasped up a cloud-like vapor, much like what was surrounding her. It bubbled and simply faded away to join with the other cloud around her.
***
After some time, she returns her head up, her chest holding a tight pressure. It stung, but she had to know if Button was okay, if he would make it through this gruesome scene. She would watch only to make sure he survives.
He...he is struggling, being sucked into the ground, becoming prey to an unseen force. But this isn’t quicksand. The dirt along is grabbing him and pulling him down, the blades of grass extending and wrapping around his hooves, taught and tight.
Suddenly, something happens. Button stops, staring blankly at the tombstone ahead of him.
Something is different about him. His stare is off, distanced and separate from the world in front of him. It is as if he is looking to the dying soul within the stone in front of him, though it should possess none at this point.
His pelt was calm, settled, yet dull and almost colorless. His hooves had stopped shaking, now perfectly still. He wasn’t fighting or resisting his burial fate. He had given in to what was to happen to him.
There is a red line forming along the equator of his neck, thickening with each pulse of his small young heart. It overflows, spilling down the sides of his neck, being joined by the river of his ears.
*THUD*
Sweetie gasp, hearing the deep thump, closing her eyes to clench away tears as the head rolls. She cannot bear the site: The mouth hangs open, his tongue covered in blood. His teeth are yellowed, his ears crimson as the opening on his neck was. His eyes were yellowed, staring into a blank universe in front of his nose. Most ponies look peaceful in their eternal slumber, but Button simply looked...dead. He was already starting to get a green tint to his fur, the ground pulling him deeper in.
Sweetie heaves again, a warm fluid spilling from her orifices. Her nostrils are filled with the familiar scent of iron, the metallic taste filling her lips and tongue. She spittles, trying to rid herself of it, but it was already on her hooves. The perfect marshmallow white, now a deep crimson red.
The clouds around her shape again, closing in on her, compressing her. She pushes and bucks, trying to keep the opening, but fails. The walls compress her, balling her up.
She opens her mouth to scream, but no noise comes out over the gurgling of blood filling her lungs. Her mouth is dripping with it now, staining her teeth and lips. She is overfilling, and her chest swells at the rise of liquid pressure filling her convulsing lungs, her chest heaving violently in the struggle for air.
She can feel the crunch of bones within her legs as they shatter, dissipating into sharded dust. The clouds seem dense as lead, giving no resistance to her, no matter how hard she bucked in response.
Soon, a shard tears out, ripping jagged flesh. She tries to scream again, only being greeted by the gurgle of her drowning and dying lungs taking their last breath. Her chest collapses, her final breath drawn. Blood freely spills out along her chest and stomach from her gaping mouth, a deep red waterfall to decorate her as a fountain.
It goes blank. The pain has disappeared. Sweetie's eye's glaze over, staring blankly in the far distance, though the clouds are directly in front of her. Her lungs have been punctured by her broken ribs, her chest collapsing into itself as an old gold mine, the greatest treasure being pierced by her largest fragment of rib: Her heart pierced straight through, the rib jutting clear through her back.
Sweetie wakes, screaming. Rarity rushes quickly to her younger sister's aid, knocking over small shelves in her haste to comfort her young sister.
The little filly is drenched, her blankets and pillows thrown all across her room, her mattress looking like a war zone. She smelled of sweat, exhaustion, and adrenaline. She has been fighting something, her calloused and bruised hooves showing to fit perfectly within the holes of her walls.
“Sweetie, what is wrong? Sweetie? SWEETIE??” Rarity calls out, grabbing to cradle her young sister in her hooves, rocking her as mommy would, but only failing as Sweetie kicks against her warming embrace.
Sweetie Belle kicks sharply, her jabs almost expertly placed in defense of her, resisting Rarity’s grasp. She is still caught in the awful trance. A hoof catches Rarity's jaw, instantly leaving a large red welt in her bleach white fur.
“SWEETIE!!” Rarity calls, shaking her to wake her. “What has gotten into you? I could understand a nightmare, but I am your sister. Treat me better than that.”
“B-b.....” Sweetie mumbles, rousing from the trance. Her mind is rotting in result of her deteriorating dream. She is unaware of what is happening around her.
“Buh? Sweetie Belle, classy mares to not babble....It is not...”
Sweetie cuts her off “Button Mash!!” before falling limp in Rarity’s arm. She is exhausted from thrashing about, and has fallen back to sleep. The dream, it seemed so real: Button passing, her compression treatment...it all seemed more than just a dream, a trance.
But it was just a dream, not a prophecy, right? Nothing more. It couldn’t hurt her or Button, because it was fiction...imagination, right?