• Published 21st Jul 2014
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Scrapbox - Not_A_Hat



A place where I put scraps of stories.

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Zombie Dance

Author's Note:

Tags: Dark, Adventure, AU

Wrote this when all the cosplay stuff was floating around, sort of in an attempt to 'redeem' the idea. First, I removed the crossover element that confused so many readers. Then, instead of superpowers, my character gets buffs... which MAY come with some extreme drawbacks. Burned by sunlight, perhaps. Lastly, I tried to tie him into Equestria more strongly, through the inherited memories.

In the end, I didn't like it enough to make more of it. It's not *bad*, but...I just don't feel like going on.

Zombie Dance - by Alice Cooper

Snug.

I was wrapped in a warm blanket, impossibly soft and comfortable.

Half-awake, I rolled gently, feeling my wrapping shift and settle around me.

My mind drifted loosely.

What was I doing here? I couldn't remember falling asleep, much less getting into bed. I was headed to a party…I'd been dressed up as a zombie. I'd spent a long time getting my makeup just right, and my clothes just so. I'd never done a really elaborate costume, and it had been a lot of fun. I looked really real, the best zombie costume there, if I did say so myself. It had been a good party. Good friends, good fun, good food. It had run late.

Then…then….I'd been walking home…

Bright lights. Squealing tires. Honking. Crashing. Pain.

What? No. That couldn't be right. If I'd been hit by a car, I'd be hurting a lot more. I wouldn't be lying…

Where was I lying, anyways?

I slowly floated up out of unconsciousness, and tried opening my eyes. Dark.

I rolled over again. Strangely, I didn't feel any panic or even fright as I realized I was wrapped in thin cloth. I also seemed to be buried in some sort of powdery…dust. Odd. For some reason, the strangeness seemed distant. This was, somehow, right and proper, even though it should be alien and disturbing.

It was very comforting.

I lay still for a bit longer. I felt very safe, relaxed. Even though I was buried, I wasn't suffocating. Actually, it almost seemed like I wasn't breathing. Although the grit should have been irritating my skin and eyes, it seemed feather-soft, like an enveloping blanket. Somehow, it fit me.

Clip-clop. Clip. Clop.

Eventually, strange noises encouraged me to move. I shifted a bit more, trying to feel my surroundings.

I was in a box.

Huh.

It felt like it was about the right size and shape for a coffin.

Maybe I was dead.

I traced it gently in my fingers. As I moved, the dust sifted off me. The interior of my…coffin, for now, felt like raw wood. I gave a gentle shove, and with a loud cracking, splintering sound, my hand went through to the wrist. The odd noise stopped dead.

The wood felt flimsy, soft and foamy. Like I'd pushed through a sheet of styrofoam. I pulled my hand back, and lay still for a while.

Flickering light poured through the gap I'd made. I could hear something like breathing. I shifted a bit more, and heard what might have been a gasp, and a muffled curse. I froze, eventually relaxing again.

Clip-clop.

I pushed gently on the lid again. With a creak, it shifted slightly.

"Wh-who's there?"

Unsure of how to answer, I held my peace. The voice I'd heard was slightly panicky, slightly angry. Should I say something? I was obviously spooking the poor soul, but I had no idea where I was, or how I'd gotten here. Finally, deciding I should just get it over with, I gave the lid another shove. Hinges squealing, it swung upwards and fell open with a crash. I slowly sat up, blinking dust out of my eyes, and looked around.

I was in a coffin. That was weird. But it was surrounded by other coffins, which was even weirder. Each sarcophagus, with the iconic shape of a plank burial box, was supported by a thick plinth about waist high. Each coffin was slightly different. Mine was ornately resplendent with gold and dark wood. What had I done to merit such posthumous honors? I stopped wondering as the rest of the scene grabbed my attention and held it.

The coffins were arranged in rows, leading up to mine. There was a walkway of sorts, between the rows, leading directly to me. In the path was a yellow…pegasus?

I rubbed my eyes slowly, trying to make sure they were clear.

Yup, a pegasus. Wings, mane, one leg at each corner… impossibly cute, but still a kinda-sorta pegasus.

It was wearing a vest and a pith helmet and carrying a candle lamp, which cast flickering light.

It was facing away.

"Ahem." I cleared my throat, coughing dust. The reaction was dramatic.

"AAAAAAAA!" It leaped into the air, zipped into the far corner and hovered, holding the lamp up to see. When it caught sight of me it froze for a second, nearly falling before recovering and alighting slowly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Back! Back!" It waved the lamp at me.

"Um, I'm not sure what-"

"Stay away! I'll burn you! I'm serious!"

"Ok, ok! Sheesh!" I raised my hands in surrender, though I hadn't moved.

Silence.

"You're not going to attack?"

"No!" I rubbed my head in frustration, but stopped in surprise. I was still wrapped in cloth. I was swaddled tightly, from head to toe, in strips of yellow fabric. Strong-smelling dust fell from my… grave clothes as I moved.

I'd been embalmed?

Again, my emotions felt oddly distant. Again, this seemed strangely correct.

"Why would I attack you?"

"You're a tomb guardian! You need to guard the tomb, right? We can fight!" The pegasus did a few jumps and kicks. "I can defeat you soundly and dramatically, and win your treasure!"

"I don't have treasure…." I stopped. "I think." I suddenly felt I did. Although what, where, or why, was blank.

"A likely story!" Apparently feeling more courageous, the pegasus started advancing. "Why should I believe a monster?"

"Monster?" I felt a twinge of consternation. Maybe the oddness of my setting was finally seeping in, or some numbness was wearing off. "I'm not a…monster." Again, odd impressions assaulted me. As if I'd said that often. And not always believed it. "Right?"

"If you're not a monster, you're doing an awfully good impression." The pegasus pointed a hoof. "Lying in a coffin, in the dark, waiting for innocent archeologists, so you can jump out and eat them!"

"Innocent. Archeologist." I gave her a flat glance. "Really."

"Hey, I have a diploma and everything!"

"And a team? And you beat people up for treasure?"

"I work solo. Besides, you attacked."

"Uh-huh."

"Ok, so maybe I'm just exploring! Sheesh! What's it to you, anyways?"

"Well, it's my tomb. I'd hate to have anything go missing." I shook myself, and climbed slowly out of the coffin. My limbs felt weird, half-asleep. I almost fell, but caught myself. Finally out, I started stretching, hoping to regain some feeling. "Though I've no idea how I got here. Last thing I remember, I'm walking home. Suddenly, a car! Then, waking up here. It's like magic."

"Oh. Uh. Hum. Well, definitely isn't related to somepony looking for enchanted treasure tripping the ossuary wards. Nope. Nuh-uh."

"Oh. Okay, then." I filed that away quietly. While I still wasn't panicking, casual confirmation of magic wasn't lost on me. I laced my fingers, and stretched my hands. There was a sudden pop, and a feeling of looseness.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"No. Which is weird, since it really should." I unlaced my fingers, and looked at my now-dislocated wrist. It hung at an odd angle. I grasped my palm, and tried to wiggle my fingers. That worked; the tendons were still attached. "Something odd is going on, besides the sudden morgue-ness."

"Odd? Isn't that normal for a zombie?"

"No, I'm only dressed as…" I paused, trying to think. I'd dressed as a zombie. Then, I'd gotten hit by a car. (Maybe.) Now, I woke up in a mausoleum, in a coffin, after a…flying, talking, pony had tripped a magic ward of some kind.

"Hoo, boy…" with a wrench and a pop, I managed to reassemble my arm. "I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore."

That got me a strange look.

"No. No, you're not."

"And maybe I really am a zombie."

"Yes. Maybe you are."

"And you really are a talking, flying, pony."

"Last I checked."

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Videl Finn."

"Videlfin?"

"It's two words. Videl - Finn."

"Oh. I’m Daring Do. How do you do?"

"Heh, I've been better." I shrugged. This whole thing was very odd, but I still couldn't bring myself to care. Maybe something to do with being dead? Perhaps zombie physiology didn't lend itself to strong emotions?

I carefully inspected myself in the flickery light. I was wearing thin clothes, under the tightly-wound cloth I'd been…buried in, I guess. My body was emaciated and my skin papery.

I was wearing a dagger.

It was smooth steel, wrapped to my left calf. I felt it as I moved, and dug it out of my grave clothes. It had no handle, just a bare tang, but it was razor-sharp and double edged. There was no hand guard, but right below the blade, a sigil of some sort was stamped, obscured by the dim light.

I ran my finger over it. It felt familiar. A picture of a chained fang sprang to mind.

"Do you recognize this, Daring?" I held it out.

"Oooh." Her voice is soft. "Toss it over here?"

I hesitated for a moment; should I surrender a weapon? Still, information. I shrugged, and tossed it gently. It's reasonable to be wary of a zombie. It's reasonable for a lost person to try making friends. To be trusted, give trust.

Clank.

"Oh my."

"Talk to me."

"You…" She paused, looking up from the knife. "You're him! I thought you were a pony! Oh, everything makes so much more sense!"

"Sorry?"

"The general! I've been searching for your tomb for years! Oh! Tell me about the Foghorn Battle! How did you turn it around? Or, oh, oh! The flanking maneuver on Iron Crow! I've been trying to understand that for years!"

"It was in the cyphers." I mumbled absently. "I sent Zephyr a carrier pigeon, and…" I stopped, memories flickering. No, that wasn't right. I'd never been in that battle. I'd never fought ponies. I was a college student. I'd been at a party.

Right?

"What? Go on!"

"Sorry...I can't remember any more." I rubbed my forehead. "This is strange. I get bits and pieces…something about Zephyr. He was a pegasus, like you, but green. A good friend, a trusted aide…but these aren't my memories."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not this general person."

"Ahem, excuse me? This is your mausoleum, Mendel Gotti."

"Mendel…" At that name, another flood of memories washed through my mind. A sword, sharp enough to slash silk. Laughing faces; Zephyr, Quake, Quiver, Lambent, and Shif. Comrades all. "Oh, this is very odd."

"I'll say." Daring picked up the dagger, and tossed it back. It rang on the stone near me, and I retrieved it. "But even if you are a monster, I'm not letting you get away now."

"Huh?"

"I'll have you tell me everything you remember, even if it's strange. Come on! We need to get going!" She turned to the door. I followed, slowly at first, but more quickly as I saw sunlight glowing warmly.

My emotions might be muted, but sunlight still gave a happy feeling, deep down.