Monica, The Mare Do Well

by ErraticOverlord

They too would die if death were a good thing.

My name is Octavia Philharmonica and I used to be happy. Some ponies say it was the Griffin emperor Diamedes' decision to invade. I know the truth. It was that day my world began to crumble.

On the day of Hearthswarming I was coming home from the university. We had a half day of classes to celebrate the holiday and I was at the top of my game. I was a straight 'A' student, I was getting better at playing my cello every day, I even had my eye on a DJ I saw around campus, it was mostly idle fantasy's as I wasn't even sure if she liked me or mares in general but life was good all the same.

I trotted home to my house, alone because none of my friends lived this far out, when I heard this sound; I have never before or since heard a sound quite like what I heard that night: it was the howl of the Banshee. In old Equestrian legend the Banshee's howl signaled death. I’ve never seen a truer omen.

Griffins swooped down on the ponies of Canterlot dropping large stones. To say the ponies of the Canterlot elite were unprepared for this attack is a laughable understatement: they were destroyed. I watched as ponies I knew were crushed or had their throats clawed in by a griffin. Blood stained my hooves, the blood of my friends.

I galloped home as fast as I could. I dodged behind buildings and rubble to avoid being seen but speed was my greatest priority. I had to see my mother. I had to make sure she was safe. It began to rain. Puddles formed in cracks and holes in the street made by crashing boulders; the wet streets made it difficult to travel with any great speed and I found myself losing more time slipping and hurting myself then I thought my extra haste should allow.

In hindsight, it was a very good time for the griffins to attack us: the thunderstorm scheduled for that day made it difficult for all ponies to travel, meaning the griffins could pretty easily decimate us without any real danger of us fighting back, but I digress.

I finally reached my home, fighting the tears trying to make their way to my eyes or the bruises and cuts marring my body. I galloped through the front door to find that my house was pitch black.

"Mom?"

I said; worry crept into my voice at alarming rates. I heard voices in the dining room so I galloped there, tripping over a fallen lamp in the process. As I drew closer the voices became distinct; it was my mother's voice talking to somepony. A stallion? No. He was almost a stallion. The thing my mother was talking to had an undertone to his voice that sounded more like a horrible creature than a pony. I moved closer and I could almost pick out the words:

"I'm afraid... do that... She'll be... No dice, Dredge."

She spoke the last word like it made a bad taste in her mouth whenever she tried to form the word. The almost stallion, I assume called 'Dredge', spoke again:

"I'm awfully sorry to hear that, Lightheart. I thought you could help me but here all you want is to hurt me. I guess some things can't be helped."

I turned the corner as my mother screamed in agony. The lightning outside flashed to reveal something that looked almost like a stallion; His coat was a very dark black which seemed to absorb the light in the room, but that wasn't the strange part. His teeth were revealed showing slender points longer and sharper than a dragon’s. They were in the process of pulling out of my mother's neck. I screamed. The sound didn't feel like it was my own, it felt like a spirit pulled the sound from my throat. The un-pony looked at me his head crooked. Lightning flashed and I was alone. My mother's lifeless form lied on the floor in front of me, blood pooling around her body and my hooves. I couldn't scream, nor speak, nor even move. That was the day my old life was destroyed forever.

-(>

Now I stand in my apartment's boiler room. I lean against the cool brass and listen to the ticking of the pressure gauges, continually counting away. I chose this apartment partly for its seclusion from the outside world. Apparently, I chose it well. Candle wax drips to the floor next to me while I pore over the files I've painstakingly created, the files on The Dredge. Accounts of sightings are practically non-existent. However, sightings aren't the only indicator of something's presence; are they? Strange occurrences happen all over Equestria but The Dredge seems to have a personal MO he goes by: open attack by a large force in a specific area to cause chaos, forces shy away from even smaller specific area, unexplained death by throat punctures. All accompanied by secret meetings by an unidentified pony with the rulers of these various lands. His victims all seem to have something in common as well, though this was the hardest bit for me to find out: none of the ponies he killed had any birth records and their medical records started at ages past twenty, including my mother's.

Explanations for The Dredge's actions are completely nonexistent which gives me plenty of questions about that: how did he get into secret meetings with various leaders? Why does he kill his victims, exactly? Why do none of his victims have any early records? Is it some kind if cult? Why would my mom join?

Questions like these go through my head at lightning speeds. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I have to remember what I need to know to find him... And kill him. He's going to strike soon. His meetings with Obsedus, the Minotaur president, confirm this, and when he does I'll be there.

-(>

I smile, cheerfully. I smile just like the fake I am. I trot towards the tan Pegasus, futilely trying to fit twenty grocery bags onto her wings.

“Excuse me. Would you like some help?”

I certainly hope she does, otherwise my whole plan is shot.

“Yes, that would be great, thank you.”

I waste no time on self-congratulation and instead pick up some bags to carry into her house.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Miss Lessor.”

She holds out a hoof to shake and I gladly accept.

“Octavia Philharmonica. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Lessor.”

She gives me a warm smile.

“Please, come inside. Would you like some tea?”

You are a fool.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

I trot inside, put her bags on the kitchen counter, and sit down at a table. The spare keys for her apartments are in the drawer a few meters to my left; they’re not very well hidden. At this point, the only question is whether or not I can keep her busy long enough to get the key I need. I suppose I’ll find out.

“What kind of tea would you like? My husband was a traveling merchant so I probably have whatever you’re craving.”

I’m certain you do.

“Some Earl Grey would be lovely.”

She turns her back to me and begins brewing the tea. I slip off of my chair and move towards the key drawer, scuffing my hooves on the ground to minimize noise. I open the drawer and scan the contents, desperately. Room one zero three, the key tag stares up at me and I scoop it up, hurriedly. I close the drawer and slip back into my chair. The whole process takes less than five seconds. I sigh and catch my breath for a few minutes. The teapot whistles.

“Oh, looks like it’s done.”

You have no idea, Miss Lessor.

-(>

I hear the sharp sound of twisted metal ringing with the sounds of dawn.

That's it

I already know his target, I’ve been preparing for this for years now. I shuffle my papers to make sure everything is in order. Her name is Juniper Goldenblade. It's a rather odd name, to be sure, but what’s important is that records of her existence have appeared only two weeks ago. Thankfully, Goldenblade lives right across the street from me, seems she likes privacy as well, and it's a paltry matter to gallop across the rough cobblestone road. I hear the sounds of Minotaurs tearing apart buildings with their armies' signature battleaxes but I ignore it. I laugh to myself, casualties of war, right? I take out the key I stole from the landlady of Juniper's apartment building and slip in noiselessly.

I make my way down the halls, wincing at every creak in the floorboards I make. What am I going to kill him with? Oh you'll see. You'll see all right. I hear parts of a conversation, obviously The Dredge and Juniper Goldenblade. Excellent. Snippets of their conversation come to me, very reminiscent of my mother's conversation with him.

"Good luck... I think... Any minute now... You're outta luck."

Firm, unmoving, like one of the great bridges of Equestria; this is Juniper's voice.

"That’s too bad. And here I thought you could leave in peace, I guess not."

I jump out from behind the wall with a yell. I press the button on my upper right forehoof and my blade extends.

It's do or die time.

I leap at The Dredge and I can’t feel anything. I should feel furious, or satisfied, or scared; I can’t even feel my body. I fly towards him and all I can do is look. He sees me coming and he’s not moving, not even attempting to dodge. Juniper’s face shows total shock. It looks like if she was waiting for help, she didn’t expect me.

My blade lands to the hilt into his stomach. Nothing happens. The Dredge stands with a sickening smile on his face, watching me intently as if waiting for me to actually try to kill him now.

I failed.

With a flick of magic I'm thrown across the room and I once again hear his voice:

"You seem familiar; do I know you?"

I try to stand but collapse on the floor again. Internally, I scream at my unresponsive body while externally I'm silent as the dead. This could be my only chance, I have to take it, yet my body hears not my pleas.

I try again and again to get to my hooves I wince when one hoof is pricked by a splinter and collapse again. Juniper and The Dredge watch my efforts intently. The Dredge watches my struggles with amusement, obviously not trying to conceal it. Juniper watches with a different expression, no longer shock and surprise, one I can't quite place. My face hits the floor for the fifth time in the last few minutes.

I lie panting and I examine the hoof with the splinter in it. I pull the splinter out and examine it. My breathing comes in labored gasps from my futile efforts to stand. It seems when The Dredge threw me across the room he broke some ribs and punctured something else. As the adrenaline melts away, I feel everything and cry out in agony as my nerve endings almost melt with the pain. I lie on the ground, trying to hold on to consciousness; the splinter, I'll focus on the splinter. What a strange splinter it is, too; at first I thought it was made out of plain wood. Now, it's definitely wood but also has a gold sheen coating it and when I feel it I think of Juniper, Juniper Goldenblade. I look up and I see them: golden splinters, flecks, floating in the air around us. There must be hundreds or thousands of them.

I laugh. I laugh at The Dredge. I laugh at my obsession for years. I laugh at my executioner, but most of all I laugh at my prey.

I put a hoof in front of me and lay my weight on it; another follows, then another, then another, and I stand. I press the button to draw my blade, hearing it come out with a sharp ring, and I speak through clenched teeth:

"Game over Dredge, you lose."

I gallop towards him with my blade leveled at his throat. Golden specks fly behind the Dredge to Juniper and make her blade. The Dredge fires a blast of magic at me and my blade shatters. Shards of the former weapon land beside me, others are embedded into my broken flesh, and I land by the far wall, a blue wall from the looks of the rubble around me.

I see Juniper's blade form. The Dredge turns around. Juniper swings her blade. The blade ignites immediately before hitting The Dredge's exposed neck. There’s a brilliant flash, an angel lighting the sky. That's all I see before my head hits the floor one last time. I feel numb again. I can’t see. My head feels heavy. I’m just so tired. I have one last thought before I black out:

It's over.

Comments

[Sir Thursday]

Let's look at what the opening paragraph tells me, the reader.

My name is Octavia Philharmonica and I used to be happy. Some ponies say it was the Griffin emperor Diamedes' decision to invade. I know the truth. It was that day my world began to crumble.

I'll give you points here. Not a bad way to start a story. Not perfect as you're basically thrusting the reader into something they know nothing about. This can work, but you need to know how. Best example is Star Wars Episode 4 and how it started the series.

Before it happened I was studying at the Canterlot University of music. I lived with my mom in a quiet street at the outskirts of Canterlot.

And now you suddenly shift from world changing events to...college life? Do you see the disconnect here? You can't do that and expect the story to flow. Events and details need to be presented in a way that the reader can ingest and understand them. You've hooked the reader with the first sentences and hit them with a road block in the next one.

My dad died in a construction accident when I was two, I don't remember him too well but my mom told stories about him when I was growing up. She said he helped ponies when they couldn't help themselves. He worked really hard to make sure Equestria was a nice place to live in; he was a hero.

So wait, her dad was a construction worker but he helped people? How? Why did he die? This could have also been a good hook if you added more details. As is, it's pointless filler to the reader.

So yeah, your first paragraph is a jumbled mess of ideas for the story you want to write. The rest of the story has little hints of good storytelling squandered by your scrapbook of ideas being thrown at the reader.

Bottom line? I think your story is bad but very salvageable. Here's some advice.

Show don't tell. It's so sad that you've ALMOST got this lesson learned but you use it too infrequently. Best example is:

Now I stand in my apartment's boiler room. I lean against the cool brass and listen to the ticking of the pressure gauges, continually counting away.

That's perfect. Now just add about a metric butt load more of that into your story and you'll be golden.

First Person. I'm not the biggest fan of first person, I'll admit that. For the most part, you can make first person work for you but once again it's infrequent. The strengths of first person is that it gives you a very personal perspective on the events. You can describe a characters every emotion in great detail like this:

I should feel furious, or satisfied, or scared; I can’t even feel my body.

This story works very well for the first person format. But you've got to get that "show don't tell" for it to be effective. A character telling me things that happen is boring. Describing her feelings clearly to the reader in great detail can make the story very personal.

Your kitchen sink storytelling. This is easy. Slow down! Take a breather. Yes you've got all these ideas floating around. Write them down. Look them over. Think, "how best would this serve the story?" And here's the big thing. You don't have to use everything you think of in the story. We've all thought up stuff we thought was great but really just sucked. Look at everything carefully and think about what impact it has on the story. I think you'll find that your story will be more succinct.

Grammar and Formatting. Yeah I'm not an editor or proofreader. Go get someone else to tell you about all that stuff. Just know that it's not great in your story. You need an editor/proofreader.

And that's it. Hope that helped. Message me if you have questions or if you hate me. Good luck.

[ErraticOverlord]

4385184 Wowza! This is amazing! You used details, with advice on fixing it to follow, this is great. Thank you. Without someone pointing out flaws I can't grow as a writer. I really appreciate your taking the time to put this up and I'll spend some time when I can in fixing it using the advice you gave.