Perfect Green

by Glen Gorewood

The Price Paid in Full - Finale Part 2

The World Beyond the Shed Door

Cranky is awed by the verdant green rolling hills in the world of dark green and purple skies and grassy smooth textured knolls. As he steps off the bough built walkway, his eyes are finally able to behold the celebration in all its wonder.

The clearing is not empty of green grass but instead seems to be coated in moss and clovers, wound together into a cloud like carpet by means unknown. Little patterns can be seen within this plush floor of vegetation, glowing an iridescent green and shifting like living beings. Ancient runes and words, icons and symbols, speaking in a tongue beyond that of the old donkey. The clearing floor is a living, breathing, sea of green upon which festivities are beginning to take place.

All across the clearing collections of odd floating lights flit through the air, glowing wisps of green and teal giving light to the activities within. Some of these glowing orbs spin side by side, leaving trails of shimmering light dust in their wake as patterns shine in the air momentarily before collapsing slowly like falling stardust. The largest of the witch lights are the size of a bonfire, and are settled upon seemingly randomly placed torch pylons made of great ivory colored branches that grow up from the green carpet below. Leaves that shimmer a gilded green grace their sides, growing in patterns that seem to form a series of living icons and symbols that shimmer in the fey lights glow.

Scattered around the great torch boughs are beings of assorted sizes and types, many unknown to the old codger who is slowly being led towards the clearing proper. Some stand upon two legs, their lower halves similar to many creatures the donkey knows of but the upper halves akin to hairless apes. Many have horns or ridges upon their heads and brows, in some cases they trail down their spines mixing with their manes. A few dance or perch upon interwoven boughs, singing or playing instruments that seem to excite their listeners into dance. The rhythms are intoxicatingly foreign, yet also feel familiar at the same time. Like an old lullaby from child that had passed from your mind in time, but whose tune will always stay within your body and soul.

One such creature stands before what looks like a collection of ponies wearing cloaks, smiling as he paints a picture upon a leaf bound canvas. Smaller creatures run about the clearing, holding dishes and trays filled with everything from food and drink to assorted accessories and musical instruments. Their eyes large and bright, shimmering in the lights around them as they seem to fly from one being to the next.

Great creatures whose skin seems to be made of bark and leaves roam the grounds, often accompanied by beings in flowing cloaks of ivy and green mist whose hair is covered in flowers; great wings of many hues folded upon their backs. The tree creatures seem to be revered by many, being given quite a bit of space as they pass by.

Other creatures are more unreal in nature, their unnatural proportions causing Cranky to glance away. One creature in particular seems to exude a sense of wrongness, it’s great cloven hooves at the bottom of a skeletal equine body with interlocking muscle and flesh being all that keeps it together. Merged unto its back is a ghastly thing, bearing a vague similarity to a hairless ape it’s great twin horns upon its head, it’s jaw hanging loose and it’s eyes glowing a green hued red while its long clawed arms fall to the ground beside it. It sits by the far side of the clearing, surrounded by dark green almost black mosses, and attended by creatures whose visages are hidden by dark green hooded cloaks.

Others have pointed ears and slanted eyes upon varied faces and forms, one Cranky recognizes from Lugh’s stories as the female he once had the misfortune of dating. Her luminescent green gown a stark contrast to her pale white skin, dark hair, and nearly black eyes that glow from within. Her unnatural beauty both intrigues and repels Cranky, though many seem to not be as wary of her as the should be. She sits alongside a horselike creature whose mane looks to be made of reeds, chatting amicably while drinking from a wooden goblet.

Scattered across the clearing are hundreds of equine shapes mingling with more unnatural and fey creatures, many of these seem familiar in form to equestrian ponies. Other hooded creatures of all varieties dance around wisp lights alongside the fey and fiends that have gathered together for this celebration of Beltaine.

The purple sky above has patterns of green twisting through the clouds, the great shimmering moon of this world seem to have creatures dancing upon its surface to the music below. The sky is filled with other winged and serpentine rebel era, some made of no more than mist and fog.

By the edge of the greatest fey light pillar stand a crowd of beings that somewhat resemble Lugh, their auras given off a powerful presence that is akin to and may even dwarf the princesses of Equestria. One or two of them look like his friend with brighter color schemes,and others range in for, from anthropomorphic badger and weasel to a great stag with rubes upon its skin who stands regally alongside a great bull like creature. They all turn to stare in the direction of the two newcomers, eyes trained upon Cranky himself with an intensity that would cause most to crumble to their knees. But the old donkey perseveres, mind nearly overwhelmed with the otherworldly celebration around him and confidence bolstered by his friend who walks alongside him.

Unbeknownst to Cranky a few of the more terrifying creatures have glanced his way with hunger in their eyes, only to be stopped and forced to bow and back away by a glare from Lugh. As the two friends have gotten closer to the great pillar, Lugh has changed still more than he had upon entering the world.

Taller than almost any others present, his limbs are no longer short but long and regal, with well defined lean muscle visible under the shimmering pale greenish yellow skin. His face no longer scrunched but aquiline and unnaturally beautiful, though his off colored slanted eyes have stayed the same they now fit his face well. His suit has grown to match his new form, and the short thin tail is now long and thick, wrapped around his suit like an old hemp belt. It’s tip looks like a braided tree in the shape of a sun. His long green hair now has highlights of red, yellow, and orange within it, flowing down his back and over his shoulders like a royal cape. And out and framing his bowler hat are two great horns made of ancient black oak boughs. His beard is gone, replaced by a great neck and chest ruff of the same color, the texture of moss. His shoes have turned to great green and red gauntlet boots, his feet still obscured entirely from view. His entire being gives off a green and yellow glow of its own, as he escorts Cranky to the pantheon pillar light.

Cranky tries to pay attention to where he is being led but the celebration is full of distractions that keep stealing his focus. Great tables made from still living branches, trees, and ivy trellises are loaded down with an exotic variety of foods and dishes the likes of which he has never seen before. Shimmering crystal foodstuffs, great oversized salads, massive pumpkins stuffed with herbs and spices, unusual fruits and vegetables mixed with what looks like ivory and green tea coated entrees. Other dishes defy explanation, one being a great bowl of something that keeps rippling to and fro, with nothing visible within despite seeming completely transparent save for the green glow from the surface.

Different groups of creatures running past and giggling draw his eye, and for a moment Cranky could swear that he spotted a small plump grey earth pony colt among them. But a tap on his shoulder brings his attention where he is within the great celebration. Standing before him in front of the largest fey light pillar are the group of beings he compared before to the princesses.

Now close enough to touch the edges of the cloaks many wear, Cranky takes back that assessment. Whatever these creatures, no beings, are they are more than the two princesses are. Possibly more akin to the creature known as Discord, yet more unearthly than even he. All of them give of their own glow of aura light, each one a unique color and hue that represents something unknown to the donkey. All of them though give of that same feeling he first connected to Lugh, that feeling that no longer affects him as it once did due to the time he has spent with his friend.

Feeling as if he should say something, Cranky opens his mouth to speak only for Lugh to speak first. His voice still slick, but no longer oily but smooth and wispy, carrying an unspoken weight upon it as it breaks upon the air.

“Me family an kinfolk, migh’ ah introduce ye to Cranky Doodle Donkey. He be th’ one I told ye about, a might good contractee and friend o’ mine who ‘as agreed t’ th’ trials o’ Beltaine. I do hereby vouch for a’ exception on h’is behalf, so tha’ he migh’ be given a chance to become as kin to us instea’d o’ joining th’ winding bough ones by nights end.”

The bull like creature is the first to respond, it’s eyes narrowed in derision and curiosity as its low rumbling tone rumbles forth from its toothy jaws. Eyes focused on Cranky, it grumbles.
“What be the circumstances o’ this exception. This night has long been one of revelry and sacrifice, ‘tis not of’en a change be allowed. We ave’ waited millennia for another fro’m that world t’ call upon one o’ us. To open again the bridge to th’ realm where magic be thick as sap upon the word and it’s inhabitants. Ye best have a good reason for disrupting this rite o’ tradition that we have waited so long for, even by our standards of time.”

It’s voice sounds like the earth itself shifting, a great reverberating tone full of power, the bull creature ends its inquiry.

It is soon backed by the stag by its side. Whose voice in contrast to the bull’s is more akin to a trickling stream.
“I second Cernunnos, what reasons give ye for breaking the rite of Beltaine? Have we not waited long enough for the completion of the rite with one from the world of Equis? Will ye make us wait even longer still?” The feminine voice of the regal stag is contrasted by her obvious irritation and impatience.

Cranky feels slightly unnerved and confused at this line of questioning. What rite are they referring to? Sacrifice must be a metaphor for something else, but obviously Lugh’s request has upset a few of his family members. The donkey open his mouth to speak, but is cut short once more. Though a reassuring hand on his shoulder let’s him know he is not being ignored.

This time the one speaking is a tall fair maiden, her hair the color of pine bark with vines and flowers flowing from hair root to tip like strands of a mane. Her skin is the pale color of beech bark, and her body is covered in a gown made of woven moss and iridescent vines. From her head branch two feminine horns of twisting boughs and vines, and her eyes are a deep green like old growth of a forest. Her voice sounds like rustling leaves rippling in the wind, calm yet firm and powerful as it threads its way through those around her.

“ Tailtiu, Cernunnos, your objections to P.B. Lugh’s request are fair and hold some merit. However, it be not ye festival nor time of power so ye voice and views hold less weight than Lugh or I’s.”

Lugh stares boldly at the maiden as she speaks with an unspoken challenge in its eyes, she is bright counterpart to its current darkness born of the times. Hand still on Cranky’s shoulder it asks, “So wha’ be yer view on th’ matter Druantia? Be ye for th’ exception or be ye for th’ rite o’ sacrifice?”

The light forest maiden looks at Cranky, her eyes gentle and serene as she seems to stare deep within him beyond the surface and skin. Her eyes linger on the mark vaguely visible on his left fetlock, mild surprise visible as she noted the difference from the norm that only those who have been to this celebration before know. Her gaze travels over to Lugh, matching his challenge with a soft look of agreement shortly followed by a verbal one.

“I be on yer side this time P. Bel Lugh. Ye decision is a good one, my voice be that th’ creature known as Cranky Doodle Donkey be given the choice o’er his fate. We ave’ waited this long, regardless of the choice the lad makes we will no’ wait much longer. He shall either join the boughs or become kin to us by nights end.”

Her decision made the maiden gives a look at the two known as Cernunnos and Tailtiu that speaks louder than any words could. The two being grumble in reluctant acceptance, turning away and walking towards a huddle of figures a ways away.

Cranky, mind reeling from a confrontation he doesn’t understand, turns to Lugh and asks, “My friend, you said I would meet your family and kin...”

The being known as P. Bel Lugh grins, ruffling the shoulder of his equine friend. Lifting his hand he waves it, gesturing at all those visible in the fey light and says. “ Cranky me friend, these here be me family and Kin. An minus th’ two who jus’ left, I think they be all quite pleased t’ meet ye.”

The Donkey’s jaw drops as a series of greetings and welcomes, as well as wishes of good luck, echo from the beings before him. The maiden who had vouched for Lugh and him smiles pleasantly at him, her eyes filled with some emotion he can’t read.

Pleasantries completed, Cranky merely manages to get out a gruff “It is pleasant to meet your acquaintances” before another of the beings moves forward. Kneeling down so that their eyes meet, his resemblance to Lugh is marred by the pure white beard and hair over darker skin akin to an old fossilized tree. His attire is the color scheme of the sky above, great robes that seem to be woven out of the night itself. His voice is like the buzz in the air when a unicorn casts a spell, blended with the music of the wind as he speaks, his eyes serious yet cheerful. A contradictory entity, he begins a discussion that shall end one of three ways.

“I be Gwydion, one o’ th’ few of many skills and powers akin to yer friend Lugh. Since he has given word for ye, an Druantia agreed wi’ it, it be my duty to question ye and affirm that ye wish this to be.” A cunning grin light up his face as he adds, “One o’ my powers be o’er illusions so no try’in to lie t’ me my lad.”

Cranky catches the hint and responds, “I am not one for lying, and I do wish this to be. Lugh explained why he brought me here tonight last month. I already agreed to pay any price for maintaining things as they have done to be for me and my beloved wife Matilda.”

Gwydion raises a rather bushy white eyebrow in mild surprise, one eye glancing over that the now grinning Lugh.
“Did he now?”

Lugh nods in affirmation, causing the bearded being to chuckle before his facial expression turned serious once more.

“So ye be aware of the choice ye will be asked to make by nights end?” The being known as Gwydion asks of the old donkey.

Cranky nods and grumbles in response, “Yes I do, and I already know what my answer will be too.”

The old looking being waves his fingered in a pattern over the donkeys head, a light wave of green settling over him like a fine mist. His task completed he gets up from his kneeling position, and glances down at the Donkey, eyes unreadable.
“Ye have till nights end to decide Cranky, either way ye belong to th’ world we be in now. Ye may yet change yer mind before Beltaine’s end, either way yer fate is bound to Lugh and our fellow kin. I wish ye th’ best, th’ truth may not be as easy on yer mind as ye believe it t’ be.”

Gwydion walks back to his place in the group by the pantheon pillar, the rest begin to drift away offering words of warning and good luck that fall on deaf ears of a donkey who cannot understand their tongue. As they slowly leave, the being known as Druantia gestures at Lugh to come with her. Glancing down at his friend, the being gently kneels over and pats him on the shoulder.

“Ye did well Cranky, if’n ye make it through the night me promise will be fulfilled and we shall be as kin. Ye best go an mingle fer now, I must speak with the lady Druantia ‘bout the rites and sacrifices that be paid in price fer yer wish. “

Cranky merely nods and responds with, “Alright Lugh, just promise me I’ll see you before nights end.”

The being smiles, that odd light in his eyes brighter than ever before.
“That ye will Cranky, now I must go. Enjoy the celebration, it’s all possible due to ye that we ‘ave so many attending tonight after all.”

With a final friendly oat on the shoulder Lugh takes its leave, walking over to the lighter counterpart maiden before drifting away from Cranky.

Cranky, still in shock from the encounter, wanders over to the tables and begins to partake of the feast. The crystal like foodstuffs turn out to be delicious beyond compare, he particularly likes the ones shaped like apples that are crunchy on the outside and gel like inside. Rich in flavor and texture, Cranky reluctantly moves on to the other assorted fruits and vegetables of the spread.

As a pair of blue eyes watch him from afar, he delightfully devours a sample of every item offered. The clear liquid as it turns out, is a type of liquor, one as light as air that sparkles on his tongue like iced raspberries. He is in the middle of taking his second bite of the ivory colored stalks, the insides similar to bamboo and quite stringy, when a feels something nudge him in the side.

Looking down, still chewing the odd vegetable stalk he spots the cloaked figure from before. Small, about the size of a colt though a bit on the plump side, it is pushing at his side with its hoof insistently. Swallowing his current mouthful, Cranky glances down at the figure.
“What do you want?” He says in an annoyed tone.

The figure backs away, gesturing with its head in a rather unnatural angle behind him towards a group of cloaked equines. It paws the ground impatiently, as Cranky finishes his sample of fey cuisine before turning to look at the group. It’s odd, he hadn’t realized before now how many equines were present since they had been so spread out. The group the small colt, because it must be a colt, is gesturing at numbers around twenty five. But as his eyes gaze over the crowd he realizes that there must be well over a hundred ponies of all sizes mingling about. All wearing grey cloaks with hoods. Now that he is paying attention, Cranky also notices something else about them.

None of them are speaking or singing. In fact, compared to the joyous and very verbal creatures around them, the ponies seem unnaturally silent. They dance and mingle, but make not a single sound, it’s so unlike what ponies are like at parties normally. For a pony to not be singing or chatting at a festival is unheard of, it’s something so simple yet so off that it disturbs and intrigues Cranky simultaneously.

Moving away from the table laden with food, Cranky walks towards the colt. For every step he takes the colt backs up one more. Moving past the group of ponies the donkey had expected him to be with, the young grey cloaked colt does not stop until he reaches a smaller group of two other young ponies. Both covered in cloaks, though the bulges in the hood and back give both away as a unicorn and Pegasus. Standing in front of them, the plump colt stops.

Cranky does not.

As he gets close enough to reach out and touch the colt, the air around Cranky begins to feel thick. A rank smell rises up and into his nostrils. It is best described as a pile of well rotten vegetation of some sort that has long since grown fungus and mold upon it. The three young ponies must not have bathed in a long time, since the stench is obviously coming from them. The colt shifts a bit, seeming to get into a position to block Cranky from the other two. Unknowingly or intentionally, his movement shifts the cloak enough to reveal a tattered dark brown tail and the edge of a blue spoon and fork cutie mark.

Cranky freezes, his mind bringing forth memories of a particular missing pony poster from months ago. Reaching his hoof put towards the small figure, he says.
“Truffle Shuffle from the missing flier? Is that you..”

The words he was going to say freeze in his throat as his hoof brushes the edge of the hooded cloak causing a barely audible snap to be heard. The hood falls downwards onto the colts back and towards the ground, the old hemp thread holding it together having broken due to exposure and wear, that touch being all it took to tear it free.

As the hood falls, Cranky gasps in shock and disgust.

Where the colts face should be, where his skin should be, nothing remains. Rotted muscle and a loose hanging tongueless jaw greet him where a smile should be. Sinews reinforced by small vines interwoven through holes in the tissue hold the rotting visage together. His ears are just missing along with half his mane and most of his neck tissue. the only thing remaining of the colts face are his blue eyes, held in place by vines and moss stuffed within like a mummy from Neighypt. Somehow those eyes can still move, and the blue dead pupils glow from within as they stare at the old donkey filled with a silent accusation.

In the center of the skinless neck of the colt, a large glowing perfectly green seed like object can be seen. Vines extend from it, interweaving with long dead tissues and tying together bones and muscle belonging to a colt long since dead. The plumpness is due to a particularly disgusting mass of mummified grey skin, folded and sutured by vine like tendrils around the colts abdomen and center to give the illusion of his former shape. Most of the mane has been replaced by dark grey vines and leaves, and the legs are little more than hooves with mummified skin attached to bones held together by more boughs. His cutie mark remains, mummified and shriveled upon his flank, surrounded by a vegetative monstrosity that is all that is keeping the colts corpse together after months of decay.

Cranky holds back a gag as Truffle Shuffle tilts his head, causing it to fall upon his shoulder in an angle so unnatural it can only occur if ones neck is shattered.

Backing away, with fear slowly beginning to overwhelm Cranky, the other two behind the decaying corpse of Truffle reach up visibly decayed hooves and pull off their cloaks. Beneath each is a pattern of decay and greenery eerily similar to that of Truffle’s.

The unicorn filly no longer has a jaw, just a mass of moss where the lower jaw should be. Her horn is hollowed out, a flower bud visible on the tip as the edge of a vine has eaten through it’s center. Unlike Truffle, her skin is mostly intact minus the lower legs and central neck. However it is shriveled, mummified to a paper like light purple hued canvas over which negotiation has spread its roots and grown in places. Under the semi transparent skin, vines can be seen shifting where muscles have long since dried up. Playing the part of sinews and tendons long atrophied or harvested, they twitch as she moves her hooves about in a fidgety pattern all too reminiscent of the living. Her cutie mark is covered by a large flower that has burst through her skin at the edge of where it would be on her flank.

The small Pegasus, a light tannish brown colt with a feather cutie mark, is in the worst condition of the three. Despite obviously being fresher, his body has more vegetation than the rest due to the true horror of the fate that has befallen him. Whole sections of his body have been carved out, his entire left rib section is gone leaving a gaping moss filled hollow behind. His mane and the skin it is attacked to is hanging loose down the side of his neck, though the region where it should be on the crest of his neck and spine is gone. More vines have grown over the hole, but the white of the spinal column is still visible. His left rear leg and right front leg are gone, massive branches sutured onto the rotting stumps left behind. A section of his left cheek has been bitten off, the tendon vines making a poor substitute for skin allowing one to see into the tongueless colts mouth. Worst of all though, are his wings. Or the stumps where they should be, vivid ivory white cracked bones wrapped in green moss molded in the shape of folded wings are all that remains. His skin is semi mummified, allowing one to see vividly the vegetation within.

His pupils, like those of the other two, are only held into his skull by vines and moss. They stare at Cranky Doodle Donkey from his decaying corpse, begging and accusing him simultaneously as the donkey backs away slowly. All three stand together staring, a shining green light coming from their necks, their souks bound to their rotting bodies held together by assorted vegetation for an unknown purpose. Featherweight, opens its mouth to speak, only for a gurgle to come out instead.

That does it, Cranky bolts and runs from the three walking corpses belonging to three damned young souls, his eyes wide with fear. The festivities around him no longer seem joyful, but sinister and horrifying. His thoughts race as he realizes the horrible truth of the grey cloaked equines. His mind recalls all the missing fliers, ponies from his town and beyond. Fliers he had brushed off and asked Lugh to hide from his beloved wife. Fliers that only started appearing after he had made that deal with Lugh.

He bumps into another cloaked figure, causing its hood to fall back revealing a face frozen in a wordless inequine scream. Backpedaling he bumps another, this one in the middle of dancing to a song played by the half naked ape beings. It’s cloak snaps off completely, revealing a stallion twisted like taffy. His right and left hooves having switched location, and his neck resembling the swirl of soft serve ice cream. His light orange coat riddled with flowering vines.

As Cranky backs away, trembling with terror, the stallions body continues to dance to the music as the green light can be seen pulsing from his chest. Pupils wordlessly dilated, as it’s body moves at the will of the flute. A prisoner of the magical spell manipulating its movements.

Cranky turns around, unable to watch the contorted corpse dance. He takes off again. running through the crowd, searching for a way out of the clearing that seems so much larger than before. Eyes follow him hungrily, as he bumps more and more ponies revealing impossible injuries and deformations beneath the grey cloaks. Such horror a sharp contrast to the lush green carpet beneath his hooves, such ugliness and death made even more terrifying by the festive atmosphere around him. Bodies of ponies missing, that should by all rights be dead, move around him like twisted aberrations and mockeries of life.

He bumps into so many grey cloaked ponies that their visages blur together in a morass of monstrous memories. A leviathan of wrongness, some monolithic nightmare that he somehow knows is all his fault. Lugh had said that so many were here at this festival due to him, and it is slowly dawning on Cranky what that means as he winds through the crowd of undead corpses and otherworldly beings.

Spotting a break in the clearing edge on his left, Cranky dashes for it, his mind filled with but one goal. Escape. As his hooves hit the grass beyond the clearing the sounds of the celebration abruptly stop. Turning his head to look back against his better judgement, Cranky is met with a terrible sight.

The otherworldly creatures are stepping aside as the grey cloaked equine abominations move as one through the crowd. At their head is the trio of long dead rotting foals, over a hundred pony monstrosities moving like a grey cloaked tide with one goal and one destination. They are headed right towards Cranky Doodle Donkey. Panic overtaking him, the youthful old donkey doesn’t wait for the wave to reach him, but instead takes off through the perfectly green blades of grass.

Time seems to slow to a standstill as he flees, the blades caressing his hooves as he flies over the tips, a green glow coating his form in the fey moonlight as he races away from the tide of pony dead flowing after him like a living deluge. He can hear them crunching the lovely grass behind him, destroying its green life without care. Their rotten hooves smashing each blade into the dirty, and to him it feels as if he feels each blade as it is destroyed or damaged under over a hundred sets of hooves.

Despite the pain he carries on, running faster and faster over the blades of grass, not a single on bending or breaking under him. Memories of everything that has occurred over the past few months that he ignored come to the front of his mind. Anxiety over the missing ponies, reports of a pony a day disappearing from Equestria. The news saying that not even the princesses could find the bodies, it was like they vanished off the face of the world. Matilda worrying about the being behind the missing, terrified they could be next. All the things he had blocked in favor of basking in the perfection and success borne of his deal with Lugh.

A deal that had made him truly happy for the first time in a long time. A deal that had made his wishes come true, beyond that of his lawn and fields. A deal that had a price attached he never once asked about, and even now denied what he knew it had been. A deal that had led him here, to this place, this otherworld. That deal that had now ended with him being chased by a hideous wave undead corpses that seemed to desire to hunt him down amid these perfect green rolling hills.

Wait, the deal had not ended. Cranky’s mind freezes as he realizes this. As he runs faster and faster, he looks around for any sign of Lugh or the clearing. There, ahead of him is a glowing light similar to those in the festival clearing. Two tall figures stand beside it, one of the two looks familiar even from this distance. His left front hoof aches, but Cranky pushes on towards that fey light. His breathe is not ragged, but he is beginning to slow. Not looking back, the donkey puts all of his energy into one final burst of speed.

His limbs flying over the grassy knoll, he leaps into the clearing and lands in a heap heaving deep breaths in and out as the sound of wailing echoes around him. Looking towards the clearing edge, still catching his breath, Cranky sees the horde of grey cloaked damned wailing and lamenting his escape. They seem unable to enter the clearing, the light itself or something more keeping them at bay.

His left front hoof aches horribly, and as Cranky tries to get up his left leg collapses beneath him as of it has turned to jello. Instead, he uses his other legs to turn himself around to face the two figures before him. By the fey light pillar stand P.B Lugh and the maiden called Druantia. His hoof beginning to feel numb, Cranky looks up at his odd friend and his kin, eyes feeling exhausted from his run desiring to merely close and steal him to sleep.

“Lugh.. the grey cloaked ones are the missing ponies. They have become abominations. Monsters all of them. They chased me, destroying the grass and fields in an effort to do who knows what to me. I barely made it here, I’m so tired and my hoof aches. Tell me, my friend, why are they here? Why did they chase me?”

Lugh glances down at the donkey, a small grin on it’s face he kneels down so as not to force Cranky to use his bad hoof. It reaches out to pat the shoulder of its contractee before responding.
“They be chasing ye due to they themselves bein’ in tha’ state due to ye Cranky. They be here due to th’ same reason, an they know it to be true. Ye knew it too, th’ moment ye first saw the face o’ th’ first offerin’; no need to deny it no longer now tha’ th’ truth be out in th’ open.”

Cranky stammers in response, “How is their state my fault? What do you mean by offering and the truth? Tell me Lugh, what is going on?”

P.B Lugh chuckles as it realizes Cranky has yet to put the final piece of the puzzle together. Grinning widely he answers its friend the way he must.
“Cranky my pal, Ye never asked what th’ price of me services be? Th’ price fer such a miracle, fer such prosperity, it be no small one. For each day of me services, I was promised a regular offerin’ o’ my choice fer the takin. True, a fair amount of th’ offerings were determined by th’ ones who damaged ye field and green. Indeed, the first had t’ be one o’ th’ three responsible; an all three had t’ be taken in time. However, in between takin the culprits I had the freedom to take anyone I wanted. One a day for months on end, even af’r the monsters who damaged yer green were gone I had to keep takin’ offerings up till the day o’ Beltaine so I could stay and keep serving ye. Twas just the price ye agreed to me friend.”

Cranky’s eyes had grown wide as the implication of what Lugh had said set in. It was all his fault, all of those ponies missing, all because of him. While he had enjoyed his luck and prosperity, the price had been a pony a day taken to this place. Having who knows what done to them. Those patches in the yard of darker green grass that appeared regularly, just the right size for a pony to be buried under. Lugh’s mentioning of offerings, the festival, the talk of sacrifices. All of it swirls in the donkeys mind as he croaks put another question.
“ All of them, all those ponies, they were the price? The sacrifice?”

Lugh tilts his head, looking contemplative though the grin never fully leaves his face. After a moment or two, he responds.
“Th’ pony offerings and feeding o’ th’ lawn be th’ price paid, though only in part.”

Cranky stares at the mass of grey cloaked fiends outside the light as Lugh continues.

“Th’ full price be paid when th’ sacrifice be made at Beltaine or before.”

As Lugh pauses, Cranky croaks out a question he already suspects the answer to.
“So of the ponies, the missing, were not the sacrifice, them that means the sacrifice is..”

As he trails off, Lugh puts its hand on the donkeys shoulder, staring him in the eyes as it completed the sentence for Cranky.
“Th’ sacrifice was supposed t’ be ye Cranky my friend. Normally it would be ye..”

Tears begin to roll down the old donkeys face at those words, crying like a young child that has lost something precious to him. He is surprised when a soft touch brushes away the tears from his eyes, and the hand on his shoulder begins to pat him calming him down. Looking up, he sees the grinning face of Lugh, his closest friend and the taker of innocents. A being from another world that had granted his greatest desires, and promised him a way to keep them forever.

Cranky sniffles a bit as a thought comes to mind, though he doesn’t voice it and instead waits for Lugh to speak.

Sensing an opening to talk, the being known as Lugh speaks.
“As I was sayin, normally t’would be ye tha’ would be th’ sacrifice. However, ah like ye Cranky, and consider ye a friend like me one kin. Make no mistake, th’ only reason ah offered you the deal ah did one month back was because of who ye be. None have called me or me kin t’ yer world in millennia, so reliant on their earth magic they be. None have poured so much blood, sweat, tears, and parts of their own souls into the earth and soil t’ bring about a field like ye have fer so long the very connection from this world t’ ye own disappeared. Yet ye managed t’ do so, and that action called me to ye in yer time o’ need. Don’ get me wrong, tha’ alone is nah why I offered ye the deal of yer wish being made real forever. Nay, I did so because I like ye personally like kin, Ye gave me gifts an kindness the like ah have rarely seen. I grew fond of ye, and so I decided to allow ye a choice in the matter of how ye contract ends.”

Lugh ends his statement, mis matched and slanted eyes staring deep into the old donkeys tear reddened ones.

Cranky takes a deep breathe, staring back into his friends eyes with grim determination. He knows what he has wrought, what his actions have caused, and yet at some level the donkey still desires what he gained from the deal. So he asks, decision already made and heart heavy with what is to come.
“What is the choice Lugh?”

The being known as Lugh grins wider, responding in his trademark gleeful way.
“The choices me friend be three in total. Th’ first be to give yeself as th’ sacrifice th’ contract normally requires. If ye do that, the taken souls will be at rest and ye will join the others as a part o’ the winding boughs pathway tha’ we walked upon to get here from yer world. The second be t’ try to make it t’ ye own world before the thorn in ye hoof grows thick and devours ye. O’ course th’ souls will be hunting ye fer all time if ye choose that path and survive. Th’ third be th’ one we spoke of a month past. Ye and yer wife will become as kin to me, no longer shall ye be mere mortal beings an’ yer wishes shall forever be made real. Ye will be changed fer all time, body and soul, but there’ be no dying nor price t’ be paid minus ye own souls being changed to become akin to mine. It be the choice I had to stand up t’ me kin to make possible to be true.”

Cranky mulls over the choices as Lugh takes his hand from his shoulder and gets up, moving over to stand by the fey light pillar by Druantia. As the donkey thinks it over, it gives a knowing glance at the being who shares the this day with it. Regardless of the donkeys choice, the price paid will never be forgotten. The souls will never return to their world.

A cough draws the beings attention back to Cranky. The donkey sits up, supporting himself on his three good hooves and says.
“I have made my decision. But I’ll only tell it to Lugh.”

A sly look from Druantia is all Lugh needs to move once more towards the donkey, his contractee. Kneeling down for a final time, he holds out his left hand to grab Cranky’s left front hoof. With a grin, he says.
“Before ye state yer decision, I wish to tell Ye me name in full. After all, one way or another this be our last conversation as we be now. My full name Cranky Doodle Donkey, is Puca Bel Lugh; it has been a joy to contract with ye.”

The old donkey known as Cranky smiles as he responds, “Likewise, now..”. As he lifts his muzzle up to Lugh’s ear the only words that can be heard by Druantia before they fall to a whisper are, “My choice is..”

---

The world known as the otherworld is filled with a reverberating wailing and a cackling laughter of glee. The grass ripples as a powerful wind surges through the rolling hills of green, turning the blades of recovering grass into a turbulent seas. The world itself is on edge, as if some great and terrible twist of fate had been set in stone.

---

Ponyville, one week later.

On the outskirts of Ponyville Luna and subtle Trace stand before the spot where the Doodle Donkey home used to stand. It’s entirely gone, Matilda and Cranky no longer seem to even exist as of a week prior. Not a trace of their aura is anywhere in Equestria. Matilda was presumed taken on hallows eve, shortly before dawn. What is odd about her case though is that witnesses say Cranky came to take her home, yet he went missing hours before hundreds of miles away in Ponyville. He was reported missing after local trick or treaters noticed his house was deathly quiet. A magical trace spell showed no sign of Cranky where Matilda vanished. Neither had been spotted or seen since, like the others they just disappeared off the face of the world.

What brought Luna here though wasn’t just the missing donkey couple, or the home that disappeared the next morning as well. No it was what was left behind after it vanished that caused her to stay up all day to help the investigation. Nothing can be seen where the home once stood but green grass, perfect and uniform, cover the two lots. A perfect green landscape, with no signs a home ever existed in that spot. The other thing though, was the markers. Using magic Subtle Trace had been able to detect unusual formations under the green sea that blanketed the ground. All attempts to dig had been met with failure due to the nature of the green blades of unnatural origin. You see, they tried to drag whoever tried to damage the ground into the earth itself. Or they wrapped themselves around limbs, cut tendons, and even tried to infest wounds. No manner of magic was known to cause anything like this, and so the formations had to remain within the earth. But Subtle Trace was able to get a scan of the forms below, and it was..disturbing to say the least.

Underneath that perfect green canvas of waving blades whose unnatural origin even she could not discern, were what looked to be statues. Twisted deformed mockeries of those missing, their forms snapped and torn, some in different stages of agony and pain. Others sleeping blissfully for eternity. They were not bodies, but something about them disturbed Luna in ways she had not thought possible. For they all had embedded in them a stone seed shaped object, that glowed a perfect green.

Subtle Trace shivered as she looked at the newest scan image. She wasn’t dreaming, but how she wanted to be. The statue things, whatever they were, they were not stationary. She had noticed it the past few scans but now she was certain. Every scan one would seem to be coated in moss or slime, maybe grass seeds is a better term. The next scan would show the, gone, and the other statues moved or shifted. This most recent scan though, it had shown something different. The missing statue things, were all back. Each of them coated in vines, their white alabaster inner base visible. All of them.. were staring in the image, directly at her. She had to tell Luna.

---

Elsewhere in Equestria, an unknown time later -

An earthpony not gifted with tilling the fields or growing plants is a rare thing. Iron Soil is one of those few, despite this he has put blood, sweat, and tears into his land and the result was for a time the most valuable turnips in Equestria. However last week his field was vandalized by a rival farmer, who seeded it with bull weevils that ha e decimated his prized crop. Without the turnip crop, his far, is finished. Iron Soil, normally solid of mind and body, screams onto the wind “Why me? After all my hard work? If only there were some way to fix this, his I wish there was!”

The wind blows about him and behind him odd green, red, and brown leaves pile up. As Iron Soil laments to the wind, begging for aid, the pile twitches and a hoof breaks free. Slowly, a rather small youthful donkey dressed in an odd looking smartly made suit crawls onto the top of the pile.

“I might be able to help Ye with that,” it says causing Iron Soil to jump and turn to face the rather odd donkey like creature.

In a shocked voice the Earthpony asks, “Who are you?”

The creature grins and responds in a grumbling voice, “Ah be C.D Donkey, and ah want to offer ye a deal.”

Author's Note:

This is the end of our tale for now.
A choice was made, a fate was changed, and the souls will not rest.

Horror is not always in your face, it can slowly sneak up on you. It does not always end with the death of a character, for there are fates worse than death. Sometimes the real horror, is just how much one is willing to pay for what they desire.

The next chapter is the Authors note, and a final chapter will contain artwork of the tale for your enjoyment.

I hope you enjoyed the twists and turns of Perfect Green.
Also, feel free to play spot the monster in the comments, I left some pretty vivid descriptions as hints in this chapter.

Glen Gorewood