Tales of Midnight: The Colony

by NA_SolarEclipse

Chapter Three: The Storm

My eyes creaked open after I felt rain drops on my face. I was laying on the deck floorboards against the mast in what felt like a very painful sideways position. I fought my body to get up, and eventually convinced it that I had to get up on my hooves to face the second day of the voyage to The Colony. I was sore all over for some reason. I shook it off as much as I could and looked around the deck.

No wonder I was awoken by rain drops. There were grey storm clouds all around, thick and volatile things that threatened to pour down on me with everything they were worth. “Hey Sharpe, you awake over there?” I asked to the other side of the mast. After a few moments, I looked around it and found that I was alone on the deck. “Well damn.” I cursed. “They must be inside the cabin or something.”

I cantered over to the cabin door in the soft drizzle that would no doubt be followed by rain. With a flick of some magic, the cabin doors swung open to reveal Sharpe and Warner sitting at the round table with some more colorful mush on plates. “Hey.” I whimpered as I entered and closed the doors. None of them reacted much, Sharpe just gave a slight nod.

I cantered over to the spot I sat at last night, trying to grasp at some form of consistency, and looked at Warner. “I could not sleep last night, I think I’ve been off dry land for too long and my mind is trying to freak me out or something. How’d guys sleep?”

Sharpe just grunted, not surprising. Warner on the other hoof just nodded with a soft “mhmm.”

There was something wrong here. “You doing alright Warner? Is this about last night?” Things had gotten a little out of hoof. There was no need for me to get offended or anything over shipping books, no matter what they were. It wasn’t my business, it was his.

“Well, I couldn’t help but hear some racket last night. Were you and Sharpe getting a little too close for comfort or something Midnight?” Warner asked easy, ignoring his previous silence.

I looked over to Sharpe, who hadn’t even looked up. “She barged out of the hull, panting like a dog for some reason. I couldn’t tell why. Maybe she saw a ghost.” He grumbled from a mouthful of green mush.

“Hey, I heard something last night okay? I heard a voice whispering my name. I was a little freaked out okay?” I defended quickly. I was not a coward, I just had a very good reason to leave.

“Oh, that must be the spirit of the sea.” Warner finally looked up at me. “I hear she haunts ponies who take their problems to the sea when they could simply work them out in their own home. They say that she….” Warner scrunched up his face.

“Hey, you alright? Warner? What do they say?” I begged him to go on. Maybe that was the voice I heard.

Warner….laughed. I gave the sailor pony a truly concerned look. When he finally finished, he took some time to catch his breath. “Oh, Midnight. You should have seen the look on your face.” Oh good. “You were totally taking that whole story about the ‘spirit of the sea’. Oh my, that is just too much. You can’t just fall for something like that Midnight, you just can’t!”

I stood up from my chair. “Hey! You’re more experienced at this whole sailing thing than me. I don’t know everything there is to know about whatever spirits or apparitions there are. Why is this so funny to you?”

Warner giggle a little again, electing a sour look from me. “It was totally me last night. There’s a little knothole in the bottom of my cabin that looks straight down at where I put that bedding and stuff, I could see you getting all nice and cozy to sleep so I thought maybe I’d pull a little joke on you to lighten you up a bit. I whispered ‘Midnight, Midnight,’ down at you and oh did you react. Except I just expected you to look around a bit and think nothing of it, but you ran out of there so fast I hardly saw you get up!” He took another moment to laugh it up. “Oh! You should have seen the look on your face! Priceless!”

“Hey! I was still a little shaken up from the last time you did that okay? It takes a bit more than just a few minutes to get calmed down after hearing a hissing whisper in your ear you know?” I gave Warner a serious look.

“What other time? I only said your name twice girl. No need to be so frightened.” He giggled.

Wait.

“What you been hearing things Midnight? Who know, maybe the spirit of the sea really is after you. Ha-ha! Oh have ta make yourself laugh sometimes you know?” Warner got up from his seat and went into the kitchen with his plate.

He wasn’t making that voice the first time? If it wasn’t Warner then who, or what, was talking to me last night in that dark supply room?

Warner entered the room again with one plate. “Well, I did some thinking last night Midnight and decided you are right.” I still wanted to ask him about the supply room, but moving on from it was probably for the best. “No pony should have access to something like black magic.” I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. “When we make landfall at the Colony, you and I are going to burn these.” From under the table, Warner pulled out a brown bag and opened it. Within were four black books, they almost pained my eyes to look at. “These are indeed black magic spell books. I got them from an old trader a few years back, and they have simply sat on the shelves of my study since I got them. I never read them in fear of what I might find. Since they never did anything wrong, I just never thought they were dangerous. But if what you say is right, they should never be able to hurt any pony or thing again.” He put them back in the bag with his hooves. “You and I are going to burn them when we get to the Colony. After that, I suppose Sharpe will have you stay there while I bring him back to the Marble city where I can enjoy the reward from this. I know it isn’t exactly a storybook ending for ya, but at least these things won’t be around anymore right?”

I stared at Warner for a few moments. “Warner, you don’t have to do this. I just got a little touchy last night. There isn’t any need to burn books if they aren’t hurting any pony.”

Warner shook his head firmly. “No Midnight. If a simple night vision spell can take away your ability to light things up, who knows what some of these other things could do? They may not be now, but they could be dangerous if they get into the wrong hooves.”

I held Warner’s gaze for a moment longer, then chanced a look at Sharpe. He simply sipped on some water from a cup. “You’re right Warner. We will destroy them when we arrive at the Colony. These shouldn’t be allowed to stay intact.”

Warner nodded firmly. “Good. Now as a sign of my good word and gesture of trust, I want you to hold on to them for now.” Warner shoved the bag across the table to me, where it stopped just short of my hooves.

“What?” I jumped back from the brown bag. “You can’t be serious. These things belong to you. You hold onto them.”

I tried to push them back to Warner, but a red aura of magic stopped me. Both Warner and I looked over to Sharpe, staring me down with a staunch look on his face. “For the sake of my own sanity, and the fact that I wish this sequence doesn’t become a shoving match between the two of you, just do it Midnight. Warner is asking you to carry his burden, the least you can do to make up for his hospitality is do as he asks.”

I was absolutely stunned. Sharpe, the guard pony that hardly let slip his name, called me something other than ‘prisoner.’ I had to close my mouth hanging agape at the strangeness of the event. After I gathered myself from his statement, sighed. “Alright. I’ll hold onto these for now. But as soon as we are on dry land, we are setting these things on fire.” I took the bag and slung it over my shoulders, using the straps to secure it tightly. I felt a little colder with them so close to me, but the feeling went away rather quickly. “Now, let’s get back to the way things were shall we?” I smiled at Sharpe and Warner, in false hopes.

Warner shook his head sorrowfully. “No can do Midnight. There’s a storm brewing, and I’ve got to be in top form to combat it. Usually I can just operate the ship in calm waters while doing any number of things and even in my sleep, but storms are unpredictable. I need to be alert as possible to avoid any kind of wreck that could occur. No need for us all to die a horrible death on some rocks poking out of the sea now yeah? Sharpe.” At the mention of his name, the red guards pony looked up again. “You can sense criminal scum right? I need you to scout for pirates off in the distance. Sometimes they like to strike when the storm’s got a ship all confused and disoriented. Keep watch for any black flags or quickly approaching ships.” Sharpe nodded firmly and exited the cabin, apparently all too eager to get started in his search for pirate scum.

“What do you need me to do Warner?” I asked hopefully. I wanted to feel a little bit more useful than a mule holding a bag at least.

Warner smiled sadly. “No duties, just a request. I understand that you felt a little uncomfortable with me moving you around the other night when you were asleep. So, to make it up to you I want you to enjoy the sanctum that is my room in the back of the cabin.” I gave the light blue pony a concerned stare. “There’s not a lot to do, just a window to look out of, but there’s a bed. From the looks of you though, that’s exactly what you need. I suppose sleeping on the deck isn’t exactly something you’re used to, so you can go ahead and just nap on that for a while if you want. Otherwise, just stay inside with that bag. I don’t want there to be any chance at all the wind and rain could work at those straps and unlatch them. Savvy?”

While it wasn’t what I had wanted, I couldn’t deny that sleeping on an actual bed sounded absolutely amazing right now. “Are you sure?” I asked tentatively, hoping he would say yes.

However, the light blue sailor pony just shook his head and made his way to the exit. I watched him go, almost with sorrow. Why was I suddenly feeling so concerned for this reckless pony that twice made a joke of me? I didn’t know, he probably didn’t either.

Deciding to take Warner up on his offer, I moved to the back door of the cabin that led into Warner’s quarters. I felt like I wasn’t invited, even though I was. I stowed my inhibition and pushed to doors open, what I saw made me gasp.

There above a small window, was a magnificent painting of a light yellow mare in an elegant white dress. Her dark red mane fell down about her shoulders and bordered her sad, wistful eyes perfectly. Upon her red mane was a white veil pulled back, allowing her face to be grace the world with its presence. She was absolutely gorgeous.

I was straight, and this was probably the most beautiful mare I had ever seen in my life. And she wasn’t even moving. She was a painting.

Done questioning my sexuality, I looked about the rest of the room. It was…shabby at best. There was the bed which had simple white sheets and pillows, a small desk and chair off to the right next to a bookcase, and a sink and mirror on the other side. On the mirror were the words: ‘goodbye, my love.’ The words themselves were cliché, but it was the way that they were written that made me sad. Small and off to the corner with some of the letters turned in strange ways, as if there was an attempt to hide them from others that entered the room. I myself could hardly recognize what it said.

I looked away from the mirror, not wanting to cry at the simple words. I instead cantered over to the desk next to the bookcase. Perhaps some reading would get my mind off the mirror. I sat in the creaky wooden chair and floated some of the poorly bound books over to me. There were ten in all, I pulled out the first four and flipped open the first book to the first page.

Day one, year one,

They seem to call out to me Carlotta, I don’t know what it means. They whisper to me in the night. Is it you my love? Why is fate such a cruel spirit?

This wasn’t a book, it was a journal. Warner’s journal, or at least one of them. I suspected these must have been from his years of sailing. Was it really right for me to read them? Ignoring the feeling, I flipped to the second page.

Day two, year one,

Rain brings about the rage of the sea. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it’s just a bit harder without you. Each rain drop reminds me of the tears. Tears that I will never get back.

I wasn’t a fan of his penmanship but the style certainly was sad to me. Was Warner writing to her? That mare on the painting above his bed? I kept on reading.

Day twelve, year one,

I see you at night Carlotta Melody. I see your broken and bloody body on the beach. No matter how much I reach and yell, the boat keeps getting farther away from that beach. The nightmares are more common now. They used to only come once in a while, now it seems every time I close my eyes I wake up in another terror.

End it all my love.

That explained a bit. But how could Warner be such a cheery pony and be haunted by such terrible nightmares? I closed the journal with ‘year one’ written on it and pulled the next few books on the shelf out. ‘Year five’ it was titled. I flipped it open and read the first entry.

Day one, year five,

They don’t care about you anymore.

Right. I flipped a few pages through the short entries and squinted at the words. Either his writing style had changed, or some pony else altogether was writing.

Day sixty-seven, year five,

When the door opens, I shy away from the light

These weren’t at all the same.

Day one-hundred-fifty-six, year five,

When it all ends, I will search for the tunnel at the end of the light.

I shut ‘year five’ and put it back on the shelf, I was almost afraid of what else I would read in it. Instead, I looked at ‘year seven’. I could suspect this was the more recent journal. I flipped it open.

Day one, year seven,

Another year, another book.

Why does he continue?

Were these becoming a burden to write? Honestly, if you didn’t want to write you didn’t have to. It’s not like any pony was forcing you to Warner. I read on, skipping a few of the stranger ones.

Day seventy-two, year seven,

Why do the whisper their lies to me? I pray that these voices find some pony else to plague. Warner is tired of this game. I don’t want Warner to have to bare this curse any longer.

It was here that I seriously questioned Warner’s sanity. Who writes in the third person in a personal journal? Referring to one’s self by name was not normal, it was crazy. Some of the next entries were ripping out, so I read the next intact one.

Day? Year seven?

They are finally gone. The voices are finally gone. They have not plagued my mind for some time now. Is it finally over?

The rest of the journal was blank. Not ripped out of, but blank. I guess he never wrote any more for ‘year seven.’ So I floated the rest of the journals over. There was no ‘year eight’ or ‘year nine,’ so I opened ‘year ten.’ And read the first entry.

Day one, year ten,

I look back at these journals and cringe at their contents. Not only do they frighten me, they are foreign to me. I don’t remember writing any of them, yet they are mine. Name written in the back cover, next to yours. I still miss you, but you wouldn’t want me to live in sorrow. So I simply won’t.

This sounded more like the Warner I knew. I continued reading through ‘year ten’ and concluded that this was a saner Warner altogether. He didn’t refer to himself in the third person, and he didn’t mention any whispers. I picked up ‘year eleven’ and flipped to the back. Just like ‘year ten’ it had Warner’s name at the top of the back cover, next to Carlotta Melody. Maybe it was a consistency thing for him? I flipped back to the first page and read through.

Day one, year eleven,

I don’t need these books anymore. I can remember who I am and what I do now. I can recall as far back as three and a half years or so. I need not these journals for my mind, I can keep myself in line by simply shipping supplies around. Contact with others does wonders for the mind. I will write again only when I need to Carlotta, even though I miss you greatly.
True to the words written down, there was nothing else written. Furthermore, there was only one book left: ‘year twenty.’ I replaced the others and flipped to the first page.

Day one, year twenty,

Everything was going so well. Nearly thirteen years, and I heard nothing. However it was only once. Been three days since they whispered to me last. Maybe it was just my imagination. I’ll keep writing anyway. Not like it’ll hurt any pony.

This sparked my interest, so I read on. But most of it was simply writing about the mundane days of Warner in his shipping business. Not a lot of it really grabbed my attention, but this one did.

Day seventy-six, year twenty,

They whispered again, in my sleep. Not like a dream, but when I try to sleep. They whisper about midnight, but I know not if that is the time they speak of.

After finishing the entry, I felt my head drooping. I had read for much too long, and was getting quite tired. “That’s enough of that Warner.” I closed ‘year twenty’ and dragged myself over to shabby white bed. I pulled the bag off my back and got comfortable on the relatively soft down of Warner’s bed. It was by no means perfect, but I was tired and achy. Sleep quickly crept over me.

Rain lashed against the small window behind me, waking me from a somewhat nice dream about whoever Carlotta was. No matter how much I speculated, there wasn’t any avoiding the fact that I probably thought of her to be nothing that she really was.

A bolt lightening tore down from the sky outside, startling me enough to jump out of Warner’s bed and scramble to my hooves on the floorboards. I fumbled around in the candlelight to find the bag Warner gave me and strapped it on my back tightly. I had to make sure that Warner and Sharpe were okay, they might still be out there in this storm. Another screech of lightening compelled me to just ignore the idea and stay put, but I fought against the urge and pushed my way through the exit doors to the main cabin room. I would have made it there quickly, but the swaying of the ship made it difficult to get a good grip on the flooring. It was empty, and no pony was in the kitchen either. “You idiots.” I cursed, forcing myself out the doors into the downpour that awaited me.

A huge bolt of lightning screamed across the sky as I entered the storm, followed by a deafening pound of thunder that echoed for what seemed like forever. “Warner? Sharpe?” I called out into the stinging rain and howling winds, stuffing my glasses into the bag to keep them from obscuring my vision too much. “Where are you?”

A familiar laugh responded, almost completely covered by the rain and wind. “Oh! It’s a great day to be alive isn’t it lass?” The somewhat crazed sounding voice of Warner brought my attention to the wheel platform. I climbed up next to him and tried to urge him inside the cabin, but he didn’t even hear me. “This storm’s not getting the best of us! We are arriving on schedule dear, no buts about it!” With a spin of his wheel, Warner laughed once more.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified out of my mind.

Quite clearly, Warner wasn’t going to listen. I made my way down to the main mast and looked for Sharpe, who was hanging onto the base of the mast as best as he could in the swaying of the ship. “Sharpe! Are you okay!?” I yelled over the storm, but even I could hardly hear myself over the lashing of rain.

Sharpe grumbled something, but I couldn’t hear him in the slightest. I moved to the bow of the ship and looked ahead into the churning waves and rain. A huge wave pushed me back a few feet, but I fought my way back and looked ahead.

The waves ahead were violent and foamy. I doubted that anything could swim in it and stay alive for long. It was as if there was another sea above pouring down on the lower one in pure spite. The little needles of rain stung all that they struck. That was enough of this, I was going to go back inside.

Just then however, Warner screamed something on his side of the ship so I battled the swaying and slipping of the ship to get next to him again. “What did you say?!” I yelled at the light blue crazy sailor pony.

He gave me the absolute craziest look I had ever seen on him and laughed. “It’s a good day to die lass!”
As soon as he finished, I heard a loud crack that shook me to my bones. I remember being sent into the air, toward the port side. I looked down and there was only the violent churning of water, water that I was plummeting toward at an alarming rate. I didn’t even have the chance to scream before the water rushed up to swallow me whole.

I struggled in the violent waved, trying to fight my way back up to the surface. I couldn’t though. No matter how much I paddled and thrashed, I didn’t make it any further up. My lungs screamed for oxygen, but when I breathed in all I got was water. I slowly stopped fighting it as I came to terms with my fate. I wouldn’t even make it to the Colony, I would simply drown here and become another skeleton on the beach somewhere.

I was surprisingly calm as I lost all sense of being and my vision became dark. All I wanted to do was go back, but I would never see the surface again.

Author's Note:

DUN DUN DUN!
this relatively short piece explores the dark secrets of the mysterious Warner. OoooOOooohhh.
I hope I got the ship name stuff right. If I didn't please feel free to point it out and call me a nautical nincompoop.