Red Illusion

A Halloween Story

Written by Jarvy Jared

My Ma had the most beautiful eyes. They were like mine, green, but much more brilliant. In the afternoon light they would shift to a much more serene chartreuse, and then at night into a more sublime malachite.

Pa, though his eyes were more of a rich red, had similar characteristics. His eyes often delved into burgundy at midday, when we were busy bucking apples, and I used to notice that it matched the waning sunset perfectly. On other days, his eyes became more venetian; and on rainy days, they were carmine colored.

Apple Bloom got her eyes from Pa’s brightest days, when his would light up in the color of sunstone with just a hint of fuschia. Big Mac and I got ours from Ma. Unlike them, though, our eyes didn’t change color in the different times of days; but that didn’t stop us from loving each other completely.

When Ma and Pa died, their eyes never did seem to lose their intensity. Even at the wake, with their eyes closed, I could feel Pa’s hard gaze, tough yet loving, rest on me. At first, it was a creepy feeling; but I soon learned it was just my Pa telling me to keep on fighting for this family. Ma had lay in the coffin beside him, but I could tell she was saying the same thing to Big Mac.

The thing about ponies’ eyes is that they are the last part where the soul exits. That’s why they say that you can feel a pony even when they’re gone, through the remaining intensity in their eyes. The pony is soulless, though, when she gazes outside and no light reflects off her eyes, and all ya see is a glazed expression and a look of indifference.

I sometimes think that’s why I liked to keep busy on the farm. So that I wouldn’t ever suffer from being disinterested in livin’.

Granny Smith, old, did not have the best of eyes. They were quickly losing their vibrancy; and I knew that her time was slowly approaching. And it only got worse when Ma and Pa were buried. When Big Mac and I were little, she would sometimes confuse the two of us because of her waning eyesight; and it was only when one of us spoke could she tell the difference. As we got older and our features grew more definite, she could tell us apart much better, but I have noticed that she sometimes has to take a moment to think before calling for one of us.

Apple Bloom, being the smallest, had it much easier; and since she always wore that nice, pink bow in her hair, Granny always had something to tell her apart from the rest of us, aside from her body.

I did have my hat, but sometimes Granny would mistake me for her daughter, and I would have to tell her that no, Honeycrisp was not standing in front of her, wearing her Stetson, looking out into the sunset with a serene expression on her face; that no, her daughter was not alive; that no, her daughter would never be alive again.

I never liked doing that.

As the years went on, as was expected, Granny’s eyes grew worse. Her oldest pair of glasses soon became useless to her, and she resorted to taking specialized drugs for medication. Apple Bloom was in charge of helping her get her medication and making her take it.

Granny’s worsening sight added another chore to the farm, and though we all loved her dearly, there were times she would get on our nerves. At times, she was too stubborn to take her medicine, saying that “her Apple gumption would return her eyesight,” and she would go about her business as if she could see well. She only managed to get by by her memories, using them to help her move around the house just by mind-image alone. It was only through bumping into several walls, Big Mac, and generally causing a ton of items to crash and break that we could convince her to take her meds.

I began to notice that Granny’s eye color began to physically fade. Amber transformed into tangerine as her greyish-green coat quietly faded. She now had a faraway look nearly everyday. I wondered if her intensity would ever return, but I didn’t want to keep questioning her.

So I distracted myself, bucking trees and gathering apples, keeping the family strong. Just like I promised Pa.

It was night and I was resting on the porch, Winona nearby. The moon was a brilliant pale tint, illuminating a dark-cobalt sky. The stars were out in great numbers; I wondered which ones were Ma and Pa. For a moment, I felt like crying; I missed them so much, even after all this time. I may have gotten used to it, but the pain never went away.

I was about to turn in, when I saw something prowling outside the farm. At first, I thought my eyes were mistaken. The “thing” was big and black, and was huddled over. It had the frame of a pony, but was much larger than a normal stallion; it seemed even larger than Big Mac. It was far away, at the edge of the farm, near the fences, so the moon’s light did not shine directly on it.

It appeared to be huddling over something. Maybe it was eating, or maybe it was resting; I couldn’t tell. Whatever it was doing, it was greatly engrossed in it, as it paid no attention to the world around. In fact, as I continued watching, confused, I thought that the world had gone silent. Looking around, I saw that no wind was blowing, and no nightlife was abound. It was as if a lingering veil of non-living had passed over us.

As vague and murky as the “thing” was, I confirmed that it was real when Winona began barking, excited and alert. The barking traveled across the orchard, resting in the “thing’s” ear, and it stood up and turned. It was even larger when it was was not hunched. Eyes as red as the juiciest apples poked out of its darkened face, and it bared its teeth, reflecting its maw in the moonlight. The fangs were sharp, seemingly cutting through the night, and it let out a hiss. The sound stabbed through the darkness, slicing down my spine and causing chills to run rampant through my body.

I tried not to show my unease, and grabbed my lasso, twirling it around. “C’mon, Winona!” I cried, urging my pet onward. The creature hissed again, nearly making me flinch, and I saw it take off to the side. Winona and I ran forward, chasing the darn thing; yet as fast as we ran, the creature remained ahead of us by more than a few steps.

Like a serpent, it darted around, seemingly making no sound as it moved. I could not tell if it was a Pegasus or a Unicorn; all I could tell was that this creature was not natural. We jumped the fence; it ducked to the side, and I had to drag my hooves to stop and pursue after it. It bent low and picked up something, probably a rock, and threw it at me. I ducked, the rock knocking off my hat.

The creature continued running, undaunted by our pursuit. Once again it ducked to the side, almost too fast; but I was ready. I swung my head, bringing the whip around at an angle. It looped around the creature’s leg, and I pulled with all my might. With a crash, it fell, yelling and hissing.

“Now Ah’ve got ya!” I cried, grinning as I began pulling it in. I wasn’t sure what I planned on doing with it, but I figured that finding out what it was was a start.

The creature suddenly reared up and bucked out, knocking me back and making me release the whip from my mouth. I grunted; it was strong, sending me crashing into a nearby post. It glared at me, then at the rope. Suddenly, the rope began to burn, as if it had suddenly combusted under its gaze, and in no time it was free.

Winona barked at it, and it roared back. Undeterred, she tried approaching it, growling and yapping like crazy. It screeched, making me cringe in pain. It felt like a huge weight was sitting down on me, keeping me from getting up. The creature swiped at Winona, smacking her hard, and crashing her into me.

“Winona!” I cried hoarsely. I tried to get up, my legs shaking all over; but it was too late. The creature had already vanished.

Winona whimpered, and I held her close, eyes still darting around, looking for any sign of the beast. I heard Apple Bloom’s voice in the distance; a short while later, she was by my side with Big Mac. I was somehow too tired to get up and carry myself, so they had to carry me inside. Winona sat on Big Mac’s back.

“What happened, Applejack?” Apple Bloom asked.

I shook my head. “Ah’m not sure. Ah saw something out there; some sort of creature, or pony. Ah tried to chase it, but, as you can see, it didn’t turn out as well as Ah wanted.”

I limped inside, and saw Granny Smith sitting by the table. “Probably just some Timberwolf,” she said after I had told her what happened. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

I nodded, but still felt unsure. If that creature was a Timberwolf, then it was unlike any other Timberwolf I had ever seen. Unworldly seemed like the best way to describe it.

“Get some rest, then,” Granny said.

I went upstairs, cradling Winona in my hoof, the creature still occupying my thoughts. I lay my head on the pillow, placing Winona next to me. I inspected her body; nothing broken, thankfully, so she would recover eventually. She had already passed out, probably also tired from the ordeal. The sight normally would have been comforting, but I found myself still uneasy.

The last thing I saw in my mind was that creature’s face: dark and red-eyed and menacing, glaring down at me, not of this world.

For some time, the creature did not return to the farm at night or day, and I was partially grateful for that. While I wanted to go out and see what that creature was, I couldn’t help but still feel… afraid of it. I hoped that I would both see it again—and never see its face at night.

So, like usual, bucking trees and collecting apples became my daily routine.

But, every time I closed my eyes, I would see that creature’s murderous face. The image seemed so real; I could feel its husky breath wash over my face, preparing to eat me—

“Applejack?”

I blinked, and Apple Bloom was in front of me, giving me a concerned look. “Are ya okay?” she asked tentatively.

I tried to give her a reassuring smile, saying “‘Course Ah am, Bloom. Why wouldn’t Ah be?”

She shrugged. “Ah dunno. You just seemed… off.”

I chuckled, though it felt forced. “Ah’m probably just tired from all the work Ah’ve been doing. Ya think Ah should take a break?”

“Maybe a little one. Big Mac can finish for you.”

I normally didn’t like leaving the chores to somepony else, but I didn’t want Apple Bloom to keep asking me questions. Resolutely, I agreed to stop working for a spell. Nodding to Big Mac to let him continue (not that he needed my permission), I trotted away.

I found myself in the barn, lost in my thoughts. They were the usual sort: counting the amount of apples I had bucked and needed to buck; thinking of a good price to sell them for; as well as other factors.

I closed my eyes in thought—a mistake I would regret soon after.

Its face—the creature’s—returned, clouding my mind in an evil presence. It bared its teeth, and I saw my face reflecting on its massive molars and fangs. This time, I could see more of its face. It had a visible snout, shorter than the average pony’s. Smoke seemed to billow out of its faint nostrils, gathering in a plume around its head.

It had horns; huge, long, ivory, rising behind and in the back of its head. They curved around, like a ram’s; and they were thick and sharp at the ends. It had no pupils. Only redness filled its eyes, and they burned with pure hate and spite.

It was staring right at me, and somehow I knew that it could see me just as I could see it. It snarled, and I felt spit splash my face. I scrunched up my nose and shifted back; and it followed, dark and foreboding. It let out a screech that punctured my skull, and began speaking in an unknown language. I could make out s’s and hard g’s in its voice. As it spoke, the very atmosphere seemed to grow heavy, and I found myself instinctively bowing to the weight.

It grew closer, hissing and spitting. I tried crying out, but found my voice did not work. I tried to run, but was frozen in place; either in fear or by physical restraint, I wasn’t sure. I stared at the creature with wide eyes as it approached, scared and fearful.

I shook my head desperately, trying to will myself out of this hold. The creature grew closer, closer, closer—

I gasped as I shot up from the barrel of hay I had collapsed on, my heart jackhammering at such a great rate that I thought I might have a heart attack. I glanced around, sweat pouring down the sides of my head. Darn it all! Why is that creature doing this to me?

It had to have been just the stress of managing the farm. There was no way some simple Timberwolf was making me this jumpy whenever I closed my eyes!

What in Equestria was that creature? What made it give off such a bad feeling? Why did I always feel uneased by just the thought alone? And why did I keep finding it in my mind?

I tried to steady my breathing, shaken and trembling. I did not know what that creature’s intent was; nor did I understand why I kept seeing it in my mind. I wanted to crawl away, to find my Ma and Pa, to let them comfort me; but no. No, I could not do that.

I had to be strong. Whatever this creature was, I couldn’t let it intimidate me. I couldn’t show my fear.

The next time I see it will be the last time.

Two nights passed, without incident. The orchard was peaceful, though the images persisted.

On the third night, the images vanished.

But the beast itself returned. The moon set the stagelight, and the stars were out to watch what went down. No wind blew past; a silent night bore witness.

I saw it while sitting inside, an old novel in my hooves. I had glanced outside out of pure chance, and saw the moon’s light reflecting off of the creature. I blinked; and saw it was still there. I blinked; and I saw it move slightly away.

“Found you,” I murmured, getting up. I grabbed my hat and a new rope that hung by the wall, stepping into the cool night. I broke into a full-scale gallop, gunning for that devilish creature, intending to capture it once and for all.

It saw me coming, and let out a bloodcurdling screech, intended to make me stop. I did my best to ignore the sound, trying not to falter in my movements. It saw that I remained largely unaffected, and made to sprint away.

I followed after it, the both of us yelling and screaming. I thought I could hear it chanting something—I would have to ask Twilight for a reference book on Old Equish—as it jumped the fence. I leapt over the wooden barrier, not at all losing my speed. The creature did not appear at all tired; in fact, it seemed to be accelerating more than it should have.

At that rate, I knew that I would lose it soon.

With a quick twist of my head, I swung the rope ahead, while also rushing forward. The creature instinctively ran faster, right into the falling loop of the rope. The rope end hooked onto the torso of the creature, and with a tedious grunt, I bit the rope hard and pulled back, skidding my hooves on the dirt.

It turned and screeched, and I saw pure hate rise out of it. My heart stopped as I saw its face, its pure, malicious, evil face. Its gaze felt like it bore right through my eyes, peering into my soul, and I felt vulnerable.

I heard the shouts of my family fast approaching. I turned to warn them to stay away; this thing wasn’t something to be trifled with.

That was the distraction the creature needed. It jumped towards me and knocked me down, ripping the rope from my mouth. It snarled, the spit splattering my face, and instantly my facade of fearlessness fell, replaced with freezing fright.

I saw its eyes in detail, more than my mind had supplied. Red could not describe them; crimson, sharp, bloody, consumed by raw emotion. Unnatural; immoral; but most strikingly, demonic. Like a creature from Tartarus, or maybe something that foals have nightmares of when they sleep.

It leaned down and headbutted my chin with its huge horns, and I was launched out from under it. I rolled on the dirt, my brain on fire and my body reeling in pain. The creature let loose a deathly cry, before scampering off to the eastern side of the orchard.

It’s heading for the forest! I realized.

I felt a pair of hooves lift me up. I turned, seeing Apple Bloom and Big Mac by my side. Granny Smith had also joined them, and she carried an ice pack for my head.

“Here, Applejack,” she said, handing the pack to me.

I swiped it away. “No! Ah have to catch that damn thing!” I shrugged off my siblings, breaking into a speedy gallop, ignoring the cries of my family. I grabbed the rope once more, and ran after the creature.

My family’s voices became muffled as I entered the dense forest. Night made the trees look even more sinister. Twisted branches and gnarled roots threatened to block out the sky and trip me; I could not see the moon from beneath the wooden canopy. If the world had been silent before, now the silence threatened to consume everything. Even my own thoughts seemed jumbled.

Undeterred, I trudged on, glancing around with the rope by my side. I ignored the pain that my head was feeling, focused on catching that devil of a creature before it could try anything further. Something told me that it was undoubtedly dangerous.

It was then that I heard it: teeth gnashing, something being torn from something else, bites and grunts. The sounds originated from somewhere deeper in the forest, and they echoed all around me. I clenched my eyes shut, feeling disgusted. I had a good guess as to the source. Opening my eyes, I took a slow, steadying breath, before making my way further into the forest.

I saw it there.

Its features were somehow more clear here. It was an indigo-black, judging from the way its spines glowed. Oh, yes, it had spines; somehow, they had managed to grow in the span of minutes. The air reeked of decaying flesh and bone; I felt like vomitting on the spot. Its whole body was shaking and shivering, but I didn’t think it was from the cold. It didn’t seem to have a coat of sorts; and its mane was virtually nonexistent.

It was… uncanny, unearthly.

I held a hoof over my nose to block the smell, and carefully approached, trying to remain silent. When I saw what it was eating, I nearly let out a gasp.

Somehow, the creature had gotten ahold of a pony. It was so badly damaged that I could not tell if it was a stallion or a mare. The mane had been torn off, leaving bloody scars on its flank and head. The Cutie Mark had also been ripped off. The corpse’s legs had nearly been stripped of skin and muscle, revealing eerily-white bone. Each time the creature dug into the corpse, the body would shake and shudder, almost like it was alive.

Sweet Celestia…

I took a careless step forward. There was a snap. I looked down, and saw a broken branch beneath my hoof.

The creature stopped, and turned, looking at me with those blood red eyes. I nearly threw up again when I saw what was in its hooves.

A pair of eyes, from the corpse, freshly picked, and still having the optical nerves attached. The creature seemed to be trying to put them over its own.

I began to see a sickly red, and the world swirled around. I dropped the rope and tried to run, but the creature wouldn’t let me. With a screech and a cry that would send chills down even the hardiest of ponies, it lunged for me, pinning me to the ground. I tried to buck it in the stomach, but it grabbed my hoof and stopped my blows. It bared its teeth, the blood from its feast still soaking its fangs.

Something… splurted, and all of a sudden, I felt nothing. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I was nothing.

Nothing.

I woke up, but I wasn’t sure why.

I was in a bed; I think it was mine? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t exactly see well; my vision was blurry, as was my mind. I couldn’t remember what had happened after that creature attacked me.

The room I was in was quite sparse, filled with only a bed and a window with curtains. No toys or ornaments, not even any other furniture, sat in the room. It seemed familiar, though. It reminded me of my room.

How much time had passed? I had no idea; for all I knew, it could have been an hour, two; maybe even a day. My mind was so messed up that I couldn’t make sense of anything that I saw. I kept seeing red at the corners of my vision, at the edge of the blurriness. I felt cold, too; so cold, colder than I had ever felt on any other day.

I stepped out of bed and made my way downstairs. I made no sound; my hooves didn’t clack, nor did my breath escape with a sigh. I was unnaturally quiet.

I saw Granny Smith in the living room, sitting on the rocking chair. Winona was on her lap. Both of them had faraway looks on their faces, their eyes glazed over. Winona didn’t seem to notice me at first, and she seemed lethargic, like the life had been sucked out of her.

She looked up, then, and I waved to her, trying to put on a smile.

She began barking, louder than I had ever heard her. It seemed like there was a sense of panic in her barks, her eyes having gone wide and feral. Granny looked up, and also saw me there. Her eyes, too, widened.

“A-Applejack?”

I smiled at her, and stepped towards her, trying to ignore the gruesome reflection of my gouged face in her eyes. My own eyes had seemingly been removed, but I still could see, even with all the red.

“N-no… it can’t be.”

It is, I tried to say, though no sound came out.

“N-no! NO!”

Winona leapt out of her lap, still barking at me, while Granny fell out of the chair. She continued shouting, usually my name coupled with a few unknown words. I tried to tell her to stop, but she wouldn’t. I was quickly beginning to lose my temper.

The red began caving in.

I saw Apple Bloom walk in from another room, and I smiled, thinking she would snap Granny out of it. Instead, she knelt by Granny’s side, and frowned.

“Granny,” she said, “Applejack’s not there.”

“Yes she is! I saw her! I see her!”

“No, you couldn’t have.” Her voice was strained, and also tired, like she had cried until her voice was no longer chipper. “Appejack’s been gone for a year, remember? Remember the funeral?”

I yelled for Apple Bloom to stop with this nonsense. I was right here! She had to stop confusing Granny, stop speaking like I was dead!

But my sister wouldn’t even acknowledge me. She wouldn’t look at me. Like I wasn’t even in the room.

I fumed, before noticing Apple Bloom’s eyes. They were wide and sad… but they had a certain… appeal to them.

They looked like Pa’s. And I missed him.

I grinned, and that made Granny scream even harder. Apple Bloom tried to restrain her, while I quietly made my way upstairs, waiting for the time that Apple Bloom would leave and be alone.

Maybe then the red would stop caving inward. Maybe then my eyesight wouldn’t be so blurred. Maybe I could ignore the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I just needed some new eyes, that’s all.

4,240 views

118

Comments ( 18 )

Viewing 1 - 50 of 18
- Newest First
- Oldest First

ambion

ambion #1 · Oct 29th, 2015 · · ·

Ooooh, a good horror shot. A little to the short side/fast-paced for my liking, but I suppose that just says I did like it. 'tis the season to be screamin'

shynight

shynight #2 · Oct 29th, 2015 · · ·

6579678
'Tis the season to be screamin'
Fa la la la laaaaaa, la la la DIE!

BlueColton

BlueColton #3 · Oct 30th, 2015 · 1 · ·

So.....AJ was killed by the creature and has now become a part of it?

It's a nice break from a lot of the other stories I've read, with very long paragraphs. Focuses more on dialogue that allows the story to roll on more smoothly. Very vivid description of the eyes. Did the colors have a deeper meaning?

Jarvy Jared

Jarvy Jared #4 · Oct 30th, 2015 · 1 · ·

6582588 Well the creature is sort of a personification of the Devil, what with Halloween being originally considered a satanic ritual. And Applejack more or less has become possessedsed by the creature. This also coincides with an old belief that on Halloween, demons and devils could possess you.

Jarvy Jared

Jarvy Jared #5 · Nov 2nd, 2015 · · ·

6591184 From an old Christian standpoint, paganism is related to anything satanic. (An example of this is the poem Beowulf and its Christian/Pagan molding)

Emperor

Emperor #6 · Nov 6th, 2015 · 3 · 1 ·

Read as a result of being in the 'I Just Want A Comment' Group. Be sure to pay it forward.

Given the whole initial scene with Applejack talking about her parents' eyes, I was hoping it would really pay off in the end. It didn't really feel like a satisfying payoff, however, even with the implication that Granny Smith, losing her eyesight, is thus able to see the dead better than the living.

Other than that, it's noticeable that Applejack is basically your average horror film teenager, actively pursuing the creature when it appears on both occasions. The second time is definitely foolhardy, making no attempts prior to research the creature, and then running off alone after it.

There's a little bit of fridge horror in realising that whatever the monster is, it appears to be an unending curse, where the creature attacks a pony, that pony either becomes the creature or an 'offspring' of sorts. I prefer the former where the pony directly becomes the new essence of the same creature, in a sort of unbroken line.

The real question is, when Applejack stumbles into the forest in the pursuit of that creature, is she already dead? I notice you are very coy about not giving a single defining detail about the pony the creature is eating as far as colour, subspecies, gender or size. Is it another pony the creature is eating, and Applejack is its second victim of the night, or is AJ already dead and a spectre and what she is seeing is her own body, the monster already feasting on it?

It’s features were somehow more clear here.

Its, not It's

Jarvy Jared

Jarvy Jared #7 · Nov 6th, 2015 · 1 · ·

6605509

The real question is, when Applejack stumbles into the forest in the pursuit of that creature, is she already dead?

I think I'll leave that up to the reader's interpretation.

I'll fix the grammar error in a second.

Godiswithus3

Godiswithus3 #8 · Nov 17th, 2015 · 3 · 3 ·

*groan* I hate bad endings. And I still have no idea who that monster is.

Jarvy Jared

Jarvy Jared #9 · Nov 18th, 2015 · 1 · ·

6643065 Like... the ending was terribly written, or just that the ending was not a happy ending?

Godiswithus3

Godiswithus3 #10 · Nov 18th, 2015 · 3 · 3 ·

6643922 I meant the latter. It was written well, I give you that. I just HATE non-happy endings.

PresentPerfect

Author Interviewer

PresentPerfect #11 · Jul 23rd, 2020 · 1 · ·

Not bad, though this could definitely use a Gore tag. c.c;

Deep

Deep #12 · Oct 17th, 2020 · 1 · ·

WHY IS THIS SO GOOD!

AND WHY DOES IT ONLY HAVE 54 LIKES?!

Jarvy Jared

Jarvy Jared #13 · Oct 18th, 2020 · 1 · ·

10486918
Wow... That's quite the enthusiastic response! I'm glad you liked it!

As to the question you ask: I guess because I haven't done a whole lot of promoting with this story. Never really wanted to. It was a horror piece I wrote as an experiment, but one that I didn't particularly feel needed a whole lot of attention in order to justify its existence. It's a happy accident that you should have stumbled upon it and liked it so much, so thank you for stopping by!

Deep