Chapter One
Waking up was a tradition that Swallow had come to despise.
It wasn’t necessarily because of the fact that she never wanted to. In her life, she hadn’t known anyone who found any sort of joy in the act of awakening themselves. Then again, who had? It’s an instinct necessity to sleep, to rest the mind after another insufferable day of hard work that the body doesn’t even appreciate. However no one really cares for that either. The younger the individual, the less the mind wants to rest. The older, though, the more that rest is required. It’s a rule, an obligation, among everyone who has ever existed. Fortunately, it’s taken for granted.
Sleep. Just your regular, everyday inconvenience. A way to buy time, stall, let your life pass you like a brief meeting with a stranger. Spending most of your life in a semi-conscious stupor is the norm. In fact, the average individual spends around a third of their life flicking the imaginary lightswitch in their mind to “off”.
No one ever seems to dwell on that fact though. That one unimaginable idea. The reason why illness’ are not cured. Why wars continue to rage. Why hatred and envy run free among every single individual who partakes in it. It’s just a single fact. Uncared for. Unnecessary. One of the many actualities in life that intellectuals like to boast about knowing. Not that anyone listens anyways.
Swallow was by no means a philosophical mare, but her family was. She had been told about sleep's sinful ways, yet she continued to struggle for those few extra seconds of slumber in the mornings. It was pitiful, in the eyes of others. To her, it was nothing more than an everyday act that accompanies both her personality and natural instincts.
Swallow let out a stifled groan. She drifted into consciousness reluctantly. She didn’t dare open her eyes. She knew something was off the moment her leg rubbed against a slightly scratchy surface, one that was not accustomed to her normal bed at home. This only prompted her to close her eyes tighter, harder. She didn’t dare open them. She didn’t even want to think about it.
Unfortunately, curiosity overruled her deepest wishes. Like always.
The moment she realized that she was lying on her left side--which honestly took her way too long to realize--she attempted to let her right eye survey her surroundings, which she almost instantly regretted. She had barely gotten a good look of anything when lights swirled her brain, burning her eye and shrinking it to minuscule proportions. This only prompted another loud, sleepy groan and a kick of her legs in a vain attempt to bury herself back into her pillow. Unfortunately, now all she saw were bright circles inside of her eyelids, popping and shining like stray fireworks.
As much as she wanted to go back to sleep, and let her inner childish curiosity die, there was no way that was going to happen now. Her mind was awake, eagerly egging her limp body up and out of bed. She had no choice but to listen. She lifted up her head, eyes still closed, and shook her head vigorously, putting the old phrase “shaking yourself awake” to good use. When she shook her mane, it almost looked like somepony was twirling pizza dough. She ignored the stinging pain in her eyes, and forced herself to endure it for just a few moments until they adjusted.
With caution, Swallow held her head in her hooves, letting the light slowly filter in through the cracks. In only a few mere moments, her irritated eyes began to calm, and she mustered the courage to look up.
The room was plastered in a deep maroon, reminding Swallow of the color of a freshly picked apple. It was a calming color, one that suggests peace and royalty, even though she knew nothing about either of them. It immediately attracted her attention, for some reason. There were swirls--floral, flexible swirls--placed on the wall, and the similarly patterned bedspread. Upon taking one look upon that simple color, she knew three things. The first was that she had definately not spent last night at her house, back in the shady little town of Stableside. The second being that she was horrendously hungry. The third being that, for some strange reason, she felt the tiniest hint of pride rise up inside her.
That subsided almost instantly, however.
There was a diamond shaped chandelier that hung from the ceiling, like a fragile toy suspended upon a child’s crib. Dozens upon dozens of tiny crystals adorned it, only adding to the dazzling effect that it had on the room. It hung daintily above the edge of the bed.
On the right side of the room was a large dresser, made of what she assumed was most likely mahogany. There were six drawers: two columns of three. On top of it lay multiple fancy vases, candles, and a few other things Swallow didn’t really care to take note of. She never found dressers very exciting anyways. She prefered actual closets.
There were two doors. One was large and gray, made of steel, and resided on the left side of the room. Directly in front of her was another door, this one made of some kind of material Swallow didn’t recognize, that lead to the restroom. The door itself was already half open.
“Where…?” Swallow muttered, however her voice sounded like she had gargled sand. She brought a hoof to her mouth. She looked to her immediate right, then left, before she spotted a small nightstand. For some kind of strange reason, the only thing on it was--you guessed it--a shimmering glass of water. Swallow, in another fit of gluttony, didn’t stop to question it, and gulped the water down greedily.
In fact, it only took two before she tossed the empty glass back on the nightstand.
Swallow was awake, now. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Sluggishly, she squirmed out of the exceptionally large bed, resulting in her doing a full roll and a half before she finally reached the edge.
As soon as her hooves hit the soft carpet, the question that should have been plaguing her from the moment she had awoke haunted her.
Where was she?
“Hello?” she called out. The room was by no means ominous, it was comfortable if anything, but Swallow couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread in her chest. A lump was rising in her throat, as if it was begging for more water. Swallow flicked her ears and tried again. “Is anyone else here?”
She fluttered her wings and bit her lip, letting out a nervous moan. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. Waking up somewhere new wasn’t a change of pace for her. However, the fact that she couldn’t recall how she got there was what troubled her. She tried to remember exactly what had happened the night previous, but drew a nasty blank.
Perhaps she had stumbled in here by accident. Swallow never liked to stay in one place for too long simply due to the lone fact that she can’t stand it. But that’s irrelevant now. However, if she would have crashed here for the night, wouldn’t she remember entering, or talking to somepony about it first? Everything in the room looked fairly expensive and irreplaceable, should something happen.
Cautiously, she trudged forward, erratically looking around the room as if she was a child walking through a hall of mirrors. Not knowing what else to do, she turned to the large, steel door. She put a light blue hoof to it. It felt cold, like touching ice water. With a large grunt, she pulled the door handle.
It didn’t budge.
Her naturally wide green eyes, like fields of grass, dropped for a single moment. “Locked? How…? Then how did I get in here last night?” she asked herself. Swallow had a very silly habit of talking to herself. The change in scenery didn’t put a stop to that. It was a good question, nonetheless. If she came in here during the night, who locked the door from the outside, and why?
Swallow sighed, and shivered, and practically jumped when she had noticed something.
There was a timer right above her bed, shining red numbers as they ticked upwards. It was so impossibly large, it’s length was the same as the width of the bed. Swallow watched in awe for a moment. She had no idea when it had started, but the timer was now at three minutes and forty-four seconds.
Did it start keeping time when she woke up?
Swallow looked away. It probably wasn’t important. She didn’t care, or want to know. She kept her fear at bay, and strode towards the bathroom.
The bathroom was exemplary. The surface of everything gleamed white: the toilet, the sink, the jacuzzi-style bathtub. It was as if it had recently been cleaned from head to hoof. Her eyes practically bulged with wonder. She’s seen bathrooms look like this in commercials, or futuristic movies, even. This in itself was impressive. For a moment, she feared if she made one wrong step, she might have went sliding across the floor.
She did a double take as she noticed something on the mirror, right above the sink. There was a note plastered there, with hardly legible hoofwriting on it.
Smile! You’re being watched!
-E
It had took a few agonizing seconds before Swallow had managed to decipher the hoofwriting, and when she did she wasn’t pleased. A chill went down her spine, and she impulsively looked up towards the ceiling for any sort of recording device. The four corners of the bathroom were empty, which only brought up the question whether or not the note was bluffing. She clenched her jaw, and tore the note off the mirror in one quick motion. She crumpled it with a single hoof, and tossed it in the direction of the trash bin eight feet away. She missed.
“‘E’?” she muttered. She searched through the imaginary filing cabinet in her brain, only to come up empty. “Why would they lock me in here…?”
Swallow wasn’t sure to be scared, peeved, or hungry. She romped back into the bedroom. The timer was now at seven minutes and twelve seconds, and counting. She meandered over to the dresser and thrust open the first drawer.
This was where she found all of her things. Fortunately for her, “all her things” only refers to her backpack. It was a dark green, like that of mint, with a silver crescent on the front. Not wasting any time, she opened it up.
“Everything seems to be here,” she said. She may have woken up in a strange place, but at least she wasn’t robbed. She closed her backpack and shut the drawer, of course, making sure to check the other five. They were empty. She was about to walk away, back to the bed, when her eyes locked upon a small picture frame.
Actually, it was multiple.
They were all pictures… of her. There was a picture of Swallow as a filly, on a school fieldtrip to the Royal Castle. There was another of her with her parents, smiling and laughing as they all built a sand castle on the beach near her childhood home. She remembered the day vividly, the ocean crashing along and attacking the sand castle like it was a rushing bull. Swallow was too young to comprehend, and spent the rest of the trip sobbing. It was a shame. She had been so proud of it, even though it was slightly lame looking.
Her family. The thought of them swung through her mind, as if it were a daring trapeze act. There one second, in her mind, gone the next. She didn’t want to think about them, not at a time like this. It would only cause her to become upset again. She had spent enough nights angry. Frustratingly angry.
Eating.
They were good memories. Fun, lovable memories that every child longs for. But she still felt the lead inside of her belly every time she thought about them. They were probably off somewhere, in a big city, having the time of their lives. And here she was, trying to answer the same question for herself.
All of the pictures followed this same pattern: all pictures of her as a kid. Swallow felt like retching. She didn’t need to ask out loud. The question reigned supreme in her mind. What was going on here?
Swallow didn’t have any time to think before a loud voice materialized out of nowhere. It was aggravating and noisy, as if it was coming from a loudspeaker. If there was one, then they did a good job of hiding it. Swallow, for the life of her, could not seem to tell where it was coming from exactly. If there was a God, higher in command that Celestia and Luna, then that was her first thought of who could be speaking.
“Hello, testing? One, two, three?” Swallow tensed up, her spine locking in its place. Her wide eyes grew even bigger, even though it sounded unlikely. It was a male, a stallion. That much she could tell. His voice was low and gravelly. Swallow was reminded of the wheels of a carriage rolling over a pebble trail. It reeked of despair. His voice was airy, but somehow the loudspeaker didn’t blur his words. She could smell his sulfury breathe from where she stood. She unnoticingly wrinkled her nose, and gave her tail a sharp flick.
“Hello? Who are you? What’s going on here!” she shouted. Every word she spoke became sweeter, as time moved. Perhaps, if she remained a good girl, she would receive some answers. Unfortunately, the voice didn’t seem to acknowledge her plea, and the indiscreet desperation inside of it.
“Seems to be working, alrighty then." He spoke slowly. His upbeat word choice didn’t match at all with his malevolent demeanor. “Welcome, to all of you who are listening. My name is E, but you can call me what you feel would be necessary. Don’t worry, I don’t mind.”
Swallow’s ears drooped. A few words came to mind, but she didn’t feel the need to say them out loud. It wasn’t like he could hear her, anyways. Swallow thought to herself, if she was standing face to face with this “E”, if she would still say the words on her mind. Probably not.
“Seeing as all of you are awake, we can let the fun begin.” She cocked an eyebrow at this. She had a bad feeling. “I’d like you all to make yourself at home. This room is yours to sleep in. In case you haven’t noticed, all of your belongings reside inside of your respective dressers. I’m sure most of you already figured that out, though. I guess that’s a good thing, too.” Swallow felt her blood pressure beginning to rise. She bit on her tongue. It was getting harder, ignoring her belly’s subtle begging for sustenance. Maybe she had some food in her backpack that she may have missed. She’ll check in a minute.
“This, in case you haven’t figured out, is my mansion. Everything that occupies my house is priceless, and the best that one could afford. I hope you all had a good rest, because you will not get to sleep again.” Swallow digested that for a moment, and came up entirely confused. She didn’t have time to ask a question. For one, she wouldn’t even know how to phrase it. “Yes, you heard me right. You see, living in this mansion has made me lonely, over the many years. I took it upon myself to create my own sort of...entertainment, and after nine long years, it’s finally time.” The pause after the word “entertainment” crept up Swallow’s back. Nervously, she flattened her mane with a hoof.
“Call it what you may, but I have devised a little game for you all.” Swallow didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. In fact, her legs felt like they would buckle at any moment. Like they were made of thin twigs, breaking under the pressure, the weight of it all. “There are seven players in my game. You. You, you, you," he repeated. “Each of you are in a… different bedroom. Don’t worry, they’re all the same. Please don’t fight because of such a silly thing. Besides, I’ll open your room doors momentarily, then it’s fair game.”
Swallow felt that her intelligence was being heavily bombarded. His voice was a similar experience as to somepony slowly dragging a dagger acrossed a chalkboard. “The game is simple, one that I’m sure you’ve played several times in your meager lives. It’s a competition, you see.”
Swallow opened her dry mouth. “W-What kind of competition?” she asked. The question was directed more to herself, than E.
“The goal is unmistakably easy. Whoever stays awake the longest, wins a fabulous prize.” There was a long pause, purposefully letting the eloquent silence rage on. “Their lives.”
Her heart dropped entirely, her jaw following soon after. What? What did he say? Who would have the audacity to play such a sick joke? Who would seemingly kidnap her for something like this? Whatever this game was, she wasn’t competing. That was the end of that. The rare, optimistic side of her hoped and prayed that she was on some kind of new reality show. The pessimistic side stomped that idea flat.
“This is not a joke," droned E. Swallow tried to gulp. “It’s my own version of a game. A way to bide my time, if you will. But that doesn’t matter. You see, I’ve rigged up my mansion in a very specific way. You see the timer? The one over your beds?”
Swallow subconsciously nodded, and turned back to the timer itself. It now read 11 minutes, 34 seconds. “That is how long you have been awake. It will keep ticking until you fall asleep. Speaking of which, sleeping is something that I really don’t recommend. You see, I kind of did my research. As we speak, there is a magical gas called Neurosomn--my own creation--being filtered inside each and every crevice of the house. In fact, it’s already inside of you.”
Suddenly, very suddenly, Swallow felt like choking on air. Or the “gas” itself. Either way, she could feel her throat tighten painfully. She needed water, but was too afraid to move. She’d better just listen to E, for now, or risk missing something important. “The gas is designed for one thing and one thing only: to kill you. But only when certain conditions are met. When the body relaxes, even for a split second, the toxin will take it’s course. Entering your blood, your brain, your heart.” He clicked his tongue, awkwardly, seven times. “It basically means what I said: do not fall asleep.”
Swallow was having trouble comprehending. She… she was being threatened? She could get killed? She could die today? She didn’t want to die, but this “E” character was saying that that was a possibility. All she had to do was stay awake, and the poison wouldn’t end up killing her. If she falls asleep for even a moment, she will not wake up. Swallow wanted to vomit, unfortunately her empty stomach wouldn’t produce much anyways.
“The last pony, awake and alive, walks free. I will open the locked front doors, and you can go home. But that can only happen if the other six have fallen asleep. But that’s just a technicality. Go crazy, and have fun. I’ll be checking in every few hours to monitor your progress, as I’m always watching.”
There was a long silence, before the steel door beside Swallow buzzed. It opened, and was now cracked a bit. E took to the microphone one last time, as Swallow looked up reluctantly.
“Who needs sleep anyways, right?”
Swallow didn’t want to go out that door.
She really didn’t. Who knew what lied beyond? It’ll only answer questions, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She didn’t want questions answered. She wanted to go back into her own little world again, crawl back into bed, forget this all happened. She wanted to go back to sleep.
But she was afraid. She couldn’t go back to sleep. Not afraid what E said, be it true or not. She wasn’t going to risk her life on the hunch that this stallion was bluffing. Why would he? He kidnapped her, after all.
Heaving a shaking sigh, she wandered out of the room.
Upon leaving her bedroom, she found herself in some kind of foyer. The large room was practically an octagon, with a single door on seven sides, and the final one bearing a small hallway that lead somewhere Swallow couldn’t tell from her position. Her door was right next to it. Each door bore some kind of writing, but to her, they were just scribbles. There was a timer above it all, each and every door. Upon turning to look at her own, she saw the numbers ticking upwards, as well as her name in big, blocky letters. 16 minutes, 2 seconds.
The walls were the color of fresh oak, though it was obvious that it was some kind of stone. Though, the floors were indeed wooden. There was a patterned rug with eight sides, matching the dimensions of the room perfectly. Beautifully symmetrical… if Swallow could remember the mathematical term correctly. It wasn’t her forte.
There was a large chandelier hanging from the sky-high ceiling, very similar to the one in Swallow’s own room. This one, however, was absolutely massive. From Swallow’s position, it looked like someone could live in it.
One by one, Swallow watched as the six other doors opened. Some slowly, cautiously. Others a little more eagerly. One more brashly, slamming the door open as if the pony was entering her own bathroom. Swallow did not like the innocent look on most of their faces. She didn’t like anything at all. She felt like crying, letting a few tears drop onto the cold wood below her.
Seven ponies.
Seven ponies stood in front of their bedroom doors--bewildered and confused. They were all looking around, taking in their surroundings, answering questions that weren’t even there. They watched each other. Waiting. Shifting. Waiting for somepony to speak up, even though there was no way Swallow would be able to hear from this distance no matter who spoke. Her ears were ringing too much. Her heartbeat was quickening, and she didn’t know why.
Just what had she gotten herself into now?
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There. Now that's out of the way, I shall delve into this mystery....
HOLY DAMN, A SAW CROSSOVER?! ALL OF MY YES!
Also, this too, is relevant:
I think I'm gonna Iike this...
This should be interesting. Already you've got hooked for more.
holy shit, at least FINNISH one of your others, man
4415570
Don't tell me what to do.
-Cyneryk
4415584
Righty-ho!
Aw yeah! Can't wait to see this one in action.
~Skeeter The Lurker
I'm so excited for this, Ohmigosh ~
(\
/)
4416858
I have so many great plans for this. Just don't hate me afterwards. Haha.
-Cyneryk
4416881 pfft I can't hate you man ~
Are they gonna go for the pony spirit and actually help each other survive so they can all make it through? Hope so...
Moar
Moar now
This is the only time I've been scared to read a story.
Cyneryk, you magnificent bastard.
I'll read it anyway.
After reading:
Well...shit.
WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT...
Bottom row, second from the left.
*Looks at cover art*
*looks at profile pic*
*looks at cover art*
*looks at profile pic*
Is it? No... It can't be... IS IT?!
4421828 no... way...
4421929 ITS A CONSPIRACY!
4422016 ITS A PARADOX! (THERE IS NO ANSWER)
Me want more.
4422016
I assure you, its not a conspiracy. What it is, however, is just a huge coincidence! Honest. I made the character before I saw your OC.
-Cyneryk
This looks amazing, and I haven't even started reading yet!
After reading: Holy shit, this is amazing. Such a good concept, and you're a great writer too, so it didn't feel...wrong(?). Can't wait for later chapters!
4422377 I know... But it looks just like him!
...Do you think Sketch did it?
4423631
I gave Sketch a small description of the design for each character. He simply drew the picture. Like I said, this is a giant coincidence, and I apologize...
-Cyneryk
4423846 No, no, it's fine!
All it does is give me a rather interesting head canon for your story...
I like your work on secrets shine brighter, and I'm looking forward to this one, too. Though it's just a little bit wordy, perhaps because you spent a lot of time describing environments.
Now that I think of it, this reminds me of a movie called 13 Ghosts. Strange childhood memories, for sure...
Thank you for your honesty! I agree, it is wordy. I'm still trying to find a balance between setting the scene, and being descriptive. Haha, from one extreme to the next. Ill make a note of that! Thanks.
-Cyneryk
4423945
4424144 No problem, sir. Glad I could help.
I'm new here, when we get more?
Would I be wrong to say that I detect traces of SAW in this story?
Be right back, gotta lock all the doors and windows