The Nightmare

by TheMusicalBoy93

Nightmare

Author's Note:

This was my first ever 'MLP' fic and it shows. It was written to try and use all the Mane Six in an attempt to get to know their personalities, as well as me just being hugely fond of the Flutterbat!

How had things managed to go so horribly wrong?

I suppose if I wanted to, I could spread the blame out a bit; especially Applejack, who, in her obstinance, had been the one to insist on going ahead with the plan over the objections of Fluttershy. Sad to say, even after all this time, we still don't listen to her as much as we perhaps should. All of us should have done better that night, but I'm the one who has – who should – shoulder the brunt of the responsibility. It was my magic, after all, that put us in this situation.

The others, their actions were borne out of fear, and rash action in the midst of mortal panic is at least forgiveable. What I've done isn't. Still, we all have to deal with our guilt, and try to pick up the pieces of the life we ruined as best we can.

A tune pierces through the relative silence of the library; I cross over to the balcony and watch the residents of Ponyville go about their contented lives below, my heart grateful for the fact that they don't know what we've done to one of their number. Looking at her now, whistling merrily, fluttering along so blissfully in-tune with the world around her that she doesn't even realise she's hovering several inches off the ground, her outstretched wings and streaming mane quivering slightly in the gentle breeze.

It's difficult to believe that there's anything the matter with her, isn't it?

She offers a polite good morning to every pony that she passes; some of them respond, and some don't. Even when her overtures are rebuffed, she's so sickeningly kind-hearted that she immediately assumes that she's the one at fault, and starts to offer those tremulous apologies that she's famous for. Nothing can put a chink in her armour, however; the wall of positivity that she radiates is a shell that both protects her, but also stops anyone from getting too close. It's pretty safe to assume that no one really knows Fluttershy.

Not like we do.

I can't help feeling like a stalker, watching her like this, but it has to be done; the five of us make sure that at least one of us is watching her at all times of the day. Even when she's at home. None of us enjoy invading her privacy like that, but it's the price we have to pay for our … for my foolishness. For my arrogance. They may have been myopic, blinkered by the necessity of the situation, but I was cocky. I'm a Princess of the Realm, with more magical ability than anyone since Star-Swirl the Bearded, and I thought – just for a moment – that I could do anything.

Boy, am I an idiot. When I fail, it's on a grand scale. I'm surprised Princess Celestia hasn't had me dragged back to Canterlot in irons for all the times I've royally screwed-up.

A harsh, bitter laugh, which I have trouble believing is my own. I'm so tired. I used to think that failing Celestia, serving detention, being held back a grade, these were the worst possible things that could ever happen to me. I know better now. If this experience has done anything for me, it's crushed whatever naivete I may still have been clinging to.

Well, now I know better. Now I know what punishment actually means. It's an ongoing, brutal process that leaves you forever changed. It's a lesson that they can't teach you in school; it's something they can't even prepare you for, and when it smacks you in the face and throws all of your ill-thought out assumptions straight out the window, well, that's what failure really is.

Hell, if Celestia ever does get wind of just what happened here that night, she'll most likely have me banished to the Moon for a thousand years. And you know what? I would have no complaints whatsoever. I thoroughly deserve the most ruthless sanctions she can mete out. I've done the worst thing imaginable: ruined the life of one of my best friends. Those hard-fought companions that, just a few years ago, I never wanted, but now could never imagine my life without. All of them now suffer, but one suffers more than most.

And what really carves me up is that I can't even make a token apology because she doesn't realise what I've done to her.

I don't know about the others, but I watch her not just out of a sense of duty – we're cautious, but we're fairly certain that it can't happen during the day – but because this is how I need to remember her. I want to think of her always as that sweet, innocent, naïve pony who can capture the hearts of even the most terrifying of Equestria's beasts as easily as she does those of the ponies closest to her.

Why did it have to be you? The one pony least-equipped to deal with this abomination. If I could give my life to free her from the torment, I would do so in a heartbeat; magic is rarely so simple, however, and every day I feel my inadequacy renew itself.

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I find that I've been lingering on the balcony for quite some time, and the sun is now beginning to set. Fluttershy has long since disappeared from the town centre, but it's pretty obvious where she's heading to. We've gotten to know her routine pretty well by now: feed and pamper her animals, shower and relax, hit the hay.

As I make my way to her cottage, I'm for once grateful that it lies on the edge of town, close to the border between Ponyville and the Everfree Forest. Any unusual noises can be brushed off, any unusual happenings will go unseen.

Perfect.

It's my turn tonight, with Applejack as my backup. I'm secretly grateful for this, as she is the physically strongest of us all.

Not-so-secretly, I'm appalled that this is what it has come to.

When we first realised what was happening, we had to think fast to prevent anyone else from finding out; one of the measures we put in place was that there should always be two of us present at the scene, since she doesn't always know when to … stop. Who knows, maybe she wouldn't stop? Hunger is one of the most primal of urges, and some ponies keep feeding even when they're full.

Even after all this time – I can't count how many weeks since that first night – my heart shatters like glass when the transformation begins. That this is all my fault is just the ice-cold shard of lemon stuck directly into the open wound.

Speaking of wounds, we're beginning to run out of excuses for why the five of us turn up everywhere covered in scratches, bites and puncture marks. We've managed to keep the secret confined to our group, and I'd dearly love it to stay that way, but we know it's not a performance we can keep up forever. Hell, that we've managed to do it for this long goes to show just how trusting the ponies around here are. I hate to say it, I really do, but being a Princess does have some advantages. No one wants to question you too hard in case you have them banished, or beheaded, or something.

Something has to give eventually, though.

Right now, my focus is on getting through the night. I need to keep all other details shunted firmly to one side of my mind or else I'm going to lose it. I have to think of it as a grim ritual; like the daily observation, we take it in turns so the others can rest for when they have to cover their own shifts. I sleep very little, even though tiredness hangs over me like a blanket made of clouds. I spend my time reading, looking for a better solution, but even old Star-Swirl can't help me out of this one.

Oh, Celestia, that look. The torture it causes me, I can't even describe it; I feel like a piece of my soul is rent asunder every time I witness it, and I wish so hard that it didn't have to be this way. Applejack has broken out in a sweat, knowing what is to come.

“Um,” Fluttershy says, looking down at us from the second level, having just come out of the bathroom, her pink mane falling over her eyes in a way that makes her seem more child-like and innocent than ever. She wonders why we've ushered all the animals outside to our waiting friends, why we've barricaded all the exits, why everything breakable has been surreptitiously moved out of her reach.

We've done this a lot. We've got it down to a science.

Her beautiful blue eyes radiate anxiety, and it's all I can do not to break down and cry. “That is,” she continues in that meek voice of hers, barely audible above all the clanking and clanging as Applejack quite literally nails down anything that might be used as an implement of battle. “I'm curious, why are you sealing us in? Is there a problem?”

“Um, it's for your own good,” I reply. This is what I say every night because she always asks me the corresponding question. I want to tell her the truth, that it's for the good of the innocent ponies out there who might succumb if she were to ever escape from here, but this is hard enough as it is. “Really,” I add with a smile that has no genuine warmth to it.

Hate-filled eyes look back at me, raging and bilious, flecked with carmine and burning with a fury that made the fires of Hades seem like candlelight by comparison. It's an anger that seems as old time, an anger that has never properly been expressed before, and I have to remind myself that – until sunrise – my friend is gone and what I see before me is a monster.

I have to tell myself that what I do, I do for her.

Because I have to stand here.

And let it sink its disgusting fangs into my body.

Knowing its going to happen doesn't help, bracing myself doesn't make the pain any less intense.

My faithful companion is off to one side, ready to intervene when she is needed. It's not a question of if. Her face is tensed in concentration, muscles taut, making sure that she is close enough to leap into action at a moment's notice.

I can only imagine how I look. How ridiculous and bedraggled, how weary and dishevelled. I can't remember when I last got a good night's sleep, ate a decent meal, or even had a good scrub. It's certainly less than what I deserve, and Princess Celestia would see to it that slight discomfort would be the least of my worries if word of this ever got back to her.

For all I know, she's already aware of the situation, and this is another test. I'm sure I'll be required reading at Magical Kindergarten: “Today, we discuss Princess Twilight Sparkle. Please turn to the chapter headed, How Badly Can One Alicorn Screw Things Up?”

A blur of yellow flows like liquid toward me, and it's all I can do to keep from crying out when my skin is perforated by a set of razor-sharp cuspids. It begins to draw blood from the thick vein in my neck, and my vision begins to go blurry far more quickly than I'd anticipated. I know it's only going to get worse the longer this goes on, but I have to persevere.

For Fluttershy's sake.

Wine-red eyes stare at me, into me, through me. I can see the loathing it has for me, for everything, and I can't imagine anything that is more the antithesis of my friend than this … beast.

Its mouth is cut into a cruel leer as it feeds. This isn't just a life-preserving necessity for it, it enjoys dealing pain.

I'm seconds away from passing out and I give Applejack the signal to come to my rescue; left unchecked, the beast's rapacious appetite would consume me, my companion, and soon, everyone in Ponyville. A pint is just enough for it to make it through a night, and we've managed to work out a system were we can each donate that much to it in order to keep Fluttershy alive.

It takes its toll on our bodies, but there's nothing we would not do to help our friend.

“Why do you always look so tired?” Her first question to us, every morning. Even before asking what we're doing there at all. Like I said, kindness is ingrained within her.

The next hour or so will be peaceful; even though it has far less than it wants, the hunger is sated for the moment, and it will rest for the time being. It gives us a respite, meagre though it is, to recover our own flagging strength. For now, we have to keep it boxed-in until the sun rises and our friend is restored to us.

With no memory of the previous night, of the previous innumerable nights just like this one.

I look at it sleeping; I search in vain, as always, for some trace of the pony I love. The familiar soft curves, delicate expression and kempt mane are gone; sharp-edges, a permanent sneer, leathery coat, bat-like wings and teeth that can – and will, given the opportunity – cut through anything they come into contact with.

My eyes alight on the clock, seconds ticking away far-too-slowly for my liking. Sunrise will be in about six hours; I'll sleep for an hour, throw something vaguely edible in my mouth, then spend the rest of the day studying. I will find a solution to this problem.

But tomorrow, the nightmare will begin again.

Comments

[Kris Overstreet]

I think you meant, "until sunrise."

[goaway]

3860157 Thanks for the catch!

[AppleMelody]

Oooh, deliciously dark! This proves that stories don;' have to be long to be good. Kudos!

[goaway]

3860341 Thank you very much.

[Changeling-Drone]

MOREMOREMOREMORE

[goaway]

3862338 I don't know about that. It's hard enough for me coming up with ideas for a single story, never mind continuations.

[Silver Starlight]

Woah. Just woah. Short, but no less powerful. A few errors, but even for a nit-picker like myself, it's easy to ignore compared to the story itself.

In short, faved.

[goaway]

3869296 Thank you kindly. Don't be shy about pointing out errors; I tend to write quite late into the night, so I don't always catch everything.

[psycho_pegasister_77]

really good i like the approach you used and how poor fluttershy asked that question every night. please write more.

[goaway]

3872254 Thank you very much. I have an idea or two, but we'll have to see how they develop.

[psycho_pegasister_77]

3873922
good im excited to see how they do, and if you need any help just ask-though you probably don't need it.

[goaway]

3876903 Actually, I need all the help I can get.

[Quaver Ava]

This is so dark and tragic. Please tell me this story isn't being thrown to the side. I'm looking forward to reading this tale of darkness and wonder.

[Ithrex]

I'm surprised Princess Celestia hasn't had me dragged back to Canterlot in irons for all the times I've royally *****ed-up.

Is the hyphen supposed to be there?