• Published 24th Oct 2011
  • 21,012 Views, 409 Comments

Number One - Whirring Gears



[2nd Person Perspective] A tough pony from the city moves to Ponyville.

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Chapter 4.5: Dream

The sun shines down and the hard concrete claps lightly under your hooves as you make your way down the familiar roads of Clopton. Happy at the weight and jingle of the newly acquired bits in your pocket, you make your way into your apartment building, a dark and dull red brick structure with dreary windows, some broken. Opening the old wooden door, you walk up the steps to your home.

Of course, you don’t live alone. Your best friend should be here since they didn’t have anything to do today. Won’t they be surprised when they see the payday you got. You draw a keyring with a single key out of your pocket and fit it into the dented gold-colored knob, a satisfying click as you turned. Putting the key back and with a twist of your hoof, you open the chipped black painted door and enter.

“Rainbow Dash!” you call out, closing the door behind you. Your place could be nicer. There is an old green couch with a crate acting as a coffee table. An old mattress in the corner with a torn up pillow, but no sheet. A few magazines here and there and the only light source is a cracked window. “I just got paid for the fake refrigerator job! You want something for dinner?”

You hear no response. “Dash?” you ask as you venture into the kitchen. The sink was full of plastic dishes and the oven has rust on the burners. The microwave has irremovable stains of grease. The counters are cracked, but at least clear of clutter save for a bag of apples from the store.

She’s not here, either. Dash would have left a note if she went somewhere, wouldn’t she? There’s one more place to check. The workshop where you would often do your repair jobs. Sometimes Dash would need use of some tools and she is always more than welcome. Maybe she's in the middle of a project.

You begin to approach the door to the workshop when a sour scent begins to fill your nose. Was Dash using oil in there? Smells like she’s using a lot. Damn it, that stuff is expensive. You knock on the door. You both like to keep it closed as you get into the zone while you work. Less distraction the better, and it helps that it has the only source of electrical lighting in the apartment.

No answer. You knock again. “Dash?” you say, slowly opening the door. It’s dark, but the stench is nearly overwhelming. You turn on the light.

In a moment of blinding as the light illuminated the room, you begin to feel some icy sensation gripping you by the neck. It starts to make it hard to stay upright. Hard to breath.

Standing in the room was Rainbow Dash.

“Dash!” you call out. She stares blankly at you. “Something’s wrong with me!”

You begin to feel a stinging sensation in a small point on your neck. An unseen force drags it across, an intense burning left in its path. Bringing a hoof up to it doesn’t stop it, but you pull it back to see it dripping in blood. You try to breathe, but you cannot intake air anymore. You feel liquid sputtering in your throat as you try to fill your lungs.

“HELP!” you try to yell. “HELP ME!” You look pleadingly at the colorful mare who simply stands there. You stumble backwards out of the room, running into the work bench on your way out.

You fall back into your apartment. You notice that it’s a little different. There are pizza boxes and other assorted pieces of trash strewn about the room. Where Celestia’s day had once been is now Luna’s night, her moon shining in through the cracked window.

With one more desperate look at the pegasus, still standing blankly there, you notice a glass bottle wobbling back and forth on the table. Your vision begins to fade, but not before you see it begin to fall. After darkness completely engulfs you, you hear one sound.

*smash*