• Published 3rd Dec 2014
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Scootaloo, Dark Angel - Dusk Melody



My name is Scootaloo, i'm a vampony. I'm 123. This is my story. My marefriend, interested about my life spent wandering across Equestria asked me to write it all out

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One Night In Ponyville

One Night In Ponyville

Right. Still with me? Hope so, ‘cause this is where it starts to get good. Then again for all I know you buggered off after the first page. Your loss if you did. I'm gonna tell you about that first night I awoke in Ponyville. That's when everything changed for me. That was the night I met Sweetie Belle.

I awoke that evening on the fetid bed in the dingy hovel where I'd been forced to seek refuge earlier that morning. The first thing I noticed was the smell had diminished during the day. This either meant the place was smelling better or I was getting accustomed to it. I was inclined to believe the latter. Checking my watch I saw it was just after eight. Celestia had already lowered her sun, and the glorious moon was hanging low in the sky. Just dark enough for me to go outside.

Interesting side note here, not very important but one to remember. The older you get the more you can tolerate exposure to the sun. When I was younger I'd have to wait another couple of hours at least. Hell, I'd heard tales of the very oldest vamponies being able to spend whole mornings out in the sunlight. Fucking cool or what?

Anyway, where was I? Yeah, woke up, wasn’t sick. Awesome.

Next thing on my list, breakfast. Damn if I wasn’t hungry. I'd only had the drug pusher the night before, and while sometimes a fully grown stallion can keep the thirst at bay for a day or two tonight I was thirsty. I mean really thirsty. I'd need more than one tonight, that was for sure.

Yay for me, I get to remove two pieces of scum from the face of Equestria. Ain't I nice? Well no, not particularly. Just something, the one thing really, that Nightfall told me the night she made me. “Always drink from the nasty ones darling.” I remember asking her why, and she gave me this peal of laughter, she had a really high class tilt to her laugh. “Because Niblet, while the innocents do taste nice, taking them every night will drive you insane. Best for the conscience to take the nasty ones, the ones who deserve it as t’were.” She had left me after that pearl of wisdom.

So, here I was, in the dirty alley unchaining my baby getting ready to hunt. The hunt was, and is, my favourite part of feeding. Some vamponies like the act itself, others prefer the moment the victim dies, hell I remember one guy who was so good at it he could draw the moment of death out and make it last up to ten minutes.

Me? I prefer the hunt, the thrill of the chase. Doesn't matter, I always catch my prey in the end, what matters to me is the hunt. I even turned it into a game, I learned over time to vary up my techniques to keep the game fresh. Sometimes I'd play the scared little lost girl, like I did with the druggie in Baltimare. Sometimes I'd stalk my prey for hours, hiding in the shadows, never being seen until the moment came to feed. Other times I'd play with my victim, let them see me coming, showing them the death that awaited them before letting them run away, I'd give chase, never too close. I'd let them think they'd escaped before dropping on them and snuffing out their lives.

Call me cruel if you want, you'd be right. But hey, you do the same thing every night for 123 years. You'd soon get bored right? So I spice up my routine. Don't feel too sorry for them, they all had it comin’, well nearly all, I just couldn't resist that little filly in Manehatten that one time. Did she ever squeal! You should’a seen her, all wide eyed and terrified! Ha! I love it when they get scared, fear adds flavour ya know.

Sorry. Sweetie’s just made me apologise. She knows full well what I am, and what I'm capable of doing, she just hates it when I talk about killing the odd innocent. Bless her she prefers not to think about it. She asked me not to do it anymore once, she said that, to me! Who does she think she is? (Mare of my dreams that's who) I ignored her once, she took away cuddle privelidges for a week. That was a hard week I'll tell ya.

Anyway. I'm getting off topic. Where was I? Ah yeah, breakfast. I was on my baby, cruising through the streets looking for some food. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, I had that song from that morning on my mind too. Second on my priority list after feeding was finding the mare with that voice. Third on my list was getting that voice alone, pinning it against a wall and running my tongue all over that voice’s neck, back and other areas. Hmmmmmm what me and my libido could do to that voice.

Had to swerve my baby at that point or I'd have hit a parked car. Lucky for me I have preternatural senses. “Focus Scoots, belly first body second.” I chided myself with a sly smile. “And maybe third and fourth,” my horny mind added for me.

I'd just rounded a corner when I heard a piercing scream from somewhere nearby. Not that I mind a decent scream mind, as long as I'm the cause of it. Slowly, I revved my baby forward, hunting for the source of the scream. Didn't take me long to find it. Just over the road ahead in the entrance to an alleyway under a street lamp two figures were threatening a third.

Jackpot, I thought.

I bought my baby to a stop, and flipped out the kickstand. Dismounting I began my approach, hugging the walls of buildings as I did so. I needn't have bothered being stealthy, all their attentions were on each other. As I got closer I was able to make out more details of the scene in front of me. The two attackers, a stallion and a colt I assumed, ‘cause one larger than the other had knives drawn on a plainly terrified young unicorn mare. From where I was I was able to make out their voices easily.

“For the last time, ya cloth eared bint, we want ya money, an’ we want it now!”
“I – I don't – I haven't…please, please let me go…”

“Don't lie ya bitch! We saw ya on that stage songbird, ya got paid now pay us!” To make his point, the stallion drew his knife down the left side of the mares face, leaving a red line in its wake.

The scared mare then fumbled in her jacket, and handed over a large looking purse to the gloating muggers.

I was incensed! Not at the mugging itself, that was textbook, but at their brazen attitude. They weren't even trying to hide! All the times I had to be careful and here they were, bold as you please! Before I knew what I was doing my legs were carrying me over to the muggers.

Don't get me wrong, readers, you should know me well enough by now. I wasn't being charitable. I was hungry. And besides, the mare looked like she could be fun to play with after I was done.

Within a few seconds I was behind the earth pony stallion, he hadn't even heard my approach. He never knew I was there as I reached up, an orange hand either side of his head and with a deft movement spun it 180 degrees, breaking his neck with a very loud crack. He dropped lifeless to the floor as I rounded on the colt. The poor little thing barely had time to realise what was happening as I pulled his mane back with my left hand, wrapped my right around his waist and sunk my teeth into his neck and bit down hard. Honestly the mood I was in I could've ripped his throat out right there. Little shit never stood a chance. I drained him in seconds, dropping his tiny body in the dirt.

All this time, the mare never moved. She stood, trembling with fear, looking at me like I had five heads.

Rifling through the stallions pockets I found the silk (silk!) purse, I looked it over to see an embroidered "S B". It was heavy too. How thick was she to be carrying this around?

I turned to her and she seemed to shrink against the wall. “This yours?” She nodded as I sat on some wooden pallets. Pulling out my cigarettes I lit one and took a heavy drag, inhaling the sweet nicotine. Breathing out the smoke I tossed the purse over to the quaking mare. She didn't even try and catch it, letting it land on her hooves.

Looking her over, she was very easy on the eyes, especially mine. She stood about 5”, had a pale pink off white coat with a deeper pink mane with purple shooting through it. She was wearing a red sweater, black pants and a black scarf. Damn if she wasn't pretty.

“Y– you s– saved me..” She found her voice at last.

I regarded her for a moment, taking another drag on my cigarette. “Nope,” I corrected her, “I just haven't killed you yet.”

She let out an adorable little “eeep” at that. I gotta say I was enjoying this. She cast frightened eyes over to the two bodies of her former attackers, before looking back to me.

"You’re going to k – kill me too?”

Did I mention she was adorable? “Well,” I said between drags, “that depends now doesn’t it?”

“On w– what?”

I gave a low chuckle, I could play her all night long. “On you toots. You got a name?” I flicked the used ciggy to the ground and plucked out another, lighting it up while she answered.

“S– s– sweetie B– b– belle.” She managed to stutter out. At this rate she'd kill herself of a heart attack.

Cute name. Cute mare. I took another deep inhale, breathing out more smoke. “Well Sweetie Belle. I heard this jack off here say you were a singer. Right?” She nodded again. “Well, sing then.”

For once, Sweetie Belle didn't look scared, more confused now than anything else. “You, you want me to sing, for you, now?”

“Uh huh. Whenever you're ready, Sweetie.” I took a few more drags of the cigarette as I watched Sweetie prepare herself. Just as I was about to get bored and kill her then and there she opened her mouth and began to sing.

And just like that, everything changed.

“Suddenly before my eyes,
hues of indigo arise
With them how my spirit sighs,
Paint the sky with stars.

Only night will ever know,
Why the heavens never show
All the dreams there are to know,
Paint the sky with stars.

Who has placed the midnight sky,
So our spirit has to fly
Must the heavens seem so far,
Now who will paint the midnight star?

Night had brought to those who sleep,
Only dreams they cannot keep
Like our legends in the deep,
Paint the sky with stars.

Who has placed the midnight sky,
So our spirit has to fly
Must the heavens seem so far,
Now who will paint the midnight star?

Place a name upon the night,
One to set your heart alight
One to make the darkness bright,
Paint the sky with stars."

Sweetie Belle finished her song. It took me a full two minutes to realise she had stopped singing. I merely sat dumbfounded on the stack of wooden pallets, mouth hanging open. I only came back to reality when my cigarette burned down to the nub and burnt my fingers.

Now, it may have escaped your notice, but I've always had a thing for music. It's my one and only weakness. Back when I was alive I loved the orchestras, especially the cello, and my love of music has progressed over the years, with the magic that was rock and roll in the fifties and pop in the sixties. I can't explain it, music just does ‘something’ to me, to my soul. Except dub step, that shit just sounds like a gameboy gangbang and I cannot and will not accept it as anything other than noise. Play that near me, expect to die horribly. Very horribly.

But this, that sound, that voice. I was in heaven then, no, I was in love.

Sweetie Belle started to shift uncomfortably under my gaze, and I was vaguely aware I was staring like an idiot.

“You…it was you!”

“Um, sorry, but what was me?”

I quickly explained about arriving in Ponyville earlier this morning just as the sun was rising, about finding this disused old shop, and settling down to sleep as I heard this beautiful song about a rocking chair, and how I wanted to find the singer.

“So, um, you're gonna kill me now, huh?”

What?? Kill her? Was she serious? Nonononono! I wanted to reassure her, tell her nothing would ever hurt her ever again. I would make sure of that. I wanted to tell her so many things, but I've never been a good one with words. Instead I stood, walked over to Sweetie Belle and simply took her in my arms, planting a kiss on her perfect lips. Sweetie pulled back slightly, a red blush on her cheeks.

“Not gonna kill me?” Sweetie asked with a small smile

"Not gonna kill you.” I replied breathlessly, lost in her perfect green eyes.
Sweetie Belle kissed me then, pressing her lips to mine. This was a fuller, more passionate kiss than the one I gave her, her tongue darted over my lips, gaining entry to my mouth. Without thinking I allowed her access, and Sweetie’s tongue went to work exploring my mouth with a passion. I felt it run over my fangs and she froze, pulling back from me. “Oh no!”

"What, what are you?”

Now it was my turn to blush, “I- I'm a vampony.” I said quietly, hoping she wouldn't hear me.

"A vampony?"

“Yeah, pretty much kitten.”

“That. Is. So. Cool!” Sweetie almost squealed in delight, before kissing me again. This time her tongue didn't freeze up as it went everywhere inside my mouth. Of all the reactions I was expecting, that wasn't one of them I'll tell you.

So, there you have it. That was my first night in Ponyville, how I met Sweetie Belle, and how my life changed forever afterwards. To say she's my marefriend is doing her an injustice. She's so much more than that, she's my soulmate, my confidant and my saviour, all wrapped up in one gorgeous package. I sometimes wonder how the last three years would be if I hadn't come here, or if I'd have taken a different turning when I was cruising the streets. To be honest I don't know, and I never will.

But that's a chapter for another time, as the sun is making a fool of me again. I've whiled away the entire night at this desk writing this. Sweeties been here with me of course, she's never very far away, planting welcome (if distracting) kisses whenever I pause for thought. I'll bid you and this book good day for now, so kindly sod off and let me get my sleep.