• Published 3rd Aug 2012
  • 994 Views, 20 Comments

The Hoofprints in the Snow - Lucky Dreams



A dead foal's desperate quest to be reunited with his mother.

  • ...
1
 20
 994

2: The Mist on the Lake

— Chapter Two —
The Mist on the Lake


“Come here Camera. Stand next to mummy.”

Curious, I trot up to mummy at the top of the sand dune, unsure of what she wants. She levitates a camera in front of her. I glance at her horn blazing with magic, and sometimes I wish that I was a unicorn as well ‘cos having magic would make holding my camera a snap. “Say cheese,” says mum.

Throwing my hooves around her, I beam and stare at the camera. I say “cheeeese,” just like she tells me to and I hear a clicking sound. The flash goes off...


I dunno what it was about the third night but I just had this feeling that something was off, something was wrong. And perhaps it was ‘cos of how anxious I was, but by the time the sun had fully set I was quivering under my tree next to the lake. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Through the branches I saw the first delicate flakes of a fresh snowfall, and with a gasp I remembered the date: December the twentieth!

How could I have forgotten? This was no ordinary snowfall. In fact take ‘ordinary’, stick it in the ground and then find a pegasus to fly you away from it as far as possible; this was the start of the annual Hearth’s Warming blizzard! I guess you could say that with Trottingham being so far north we had a head start with the snow, but even so it didn’t make the thought of the blizzard any less magical. Tonight, weather teams all over Equestria would be overseeing the first light coating, no more heavy than sugar being sprinkled from a shaker. Tomorrow they’d pick up the pace. The snow would get heavier and it would be the last day the trains ran before stopping for a week; shops would close for the holidays; everypony would be snug and warm in their homes with their families. There would be snow everywhere, more snow than you could dream of or could shake a hoof at, and it'd all be falling across the whole entire land at the exact same time...

Was that why tonight felt different, then? 'Cos of the blizzard? It would’ve been easy to think so except I had this creeping feeling running up my back as though a shadow was falling over me. There was something else ahoof, something more sinister then blizzards and Hearth's Warming.

“Hello?” I said. There was no answer, though then again of course there wasn’t—though I had the feeling that somepony was watching me, I was a ghost. They couldn't have been watching me. They wouldn’t have been able to see me, let alone hear me. “You're already dead,” I whispered to myself. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you, Camera.”

A voice in my head replied, you sure about that? A few days ago you thought that all ponies went to heaven but here you are stuck in Equestria. You don’t know a single thing about death, and things are never bad enough that can’t get worse.

It was true, and I gulped. Things could always get worse. It was something mum used to say after dad left (whenever she got like that it had been my job to remind her that ponies loved her), but try as I might I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being a ghost. It wasn’t like anypony could hurt me ‘cos their hoofs would’ve passed straight through me. On top of that was the fact that I was already dead, so there was no danger of me stepping out into the road and being hit by a cart once again. I couldn’t starve to death. I couldn’t drown. Nope, as far as I could tell I was getting creeped out over nothing because the worst had already happened. “What’s worse than death?” I asked myself, thinking that it might calm me down.

It didn’t. Between my fear, my loneliness, and my confusion of what to do, there was only one thing in all the world that I was absolutely certain about: I did not want to find out the answer to that question, and thinking ‘bout it all the time was making me nervous.

After taking a deep breath I emerged out from under my tree onto the path, and I’ve no idea if it’s a city thing or a snow thing, or both, but even though it was cloudy and the moon wasn’t out, it wasn’t a particularly dark night. I guess it must be a city thing. Whenever it snowed the clouds were always this strange dull orange ‘cos of all the streetlamps, and there’s nothing quite like pure white snow for making things seem brighter than they actually are. There weren’t any stars either. They’d abandoned me.

The lake was frozen and covered in snow, and somehow, dunno how, all that snow made it look twice as big as it usually did, like it wasn’t a lake in a park at all but a chunk of the arctic ice sheet. Once more I saw the lights of the towers in the distance. “H-hello?” I said again. “Is somepony there?”

Just then, there was a gust of wind. I gasped as it knocked me down! And it was cold, colder than a freezer, brutally cold. It felt like a thousand knives digging into my coat. I wanted to scream but my mouth was frozen in horror. I wanted to run away but my legs couldn’t move. The cold made my head swim, made my mind go almost blank. All I could think of was mum whispering in my ear, be brave, my little stallion. Don’t let anything knock you down.

Then just like that, it stopped.

Shuddering, I picked myself up off the floor, a new thought popping into my head: get out of the park. I had to get to get out of the dark and into the light of a streetlamp or the warmth of somepony’s fireplace, 'cos I knew with all my being that if I stayed there then I was a goner (whatever being a goner meant when I was dead). Not wasting a moment I turned to run but stumbled in the snow. “Get up,” I told myself. “Get up and run!”

And that’s when it finally spoke to me.

“Run away where?” came the voice, and sweet Celestia, that voice! That ghastly hideous voice which was full of ice and darkness and which made all my hair stand on end. “There’s nowhere to hide, little pony. You’re all alone.”

It was the longest few seconds ever. “W-where are you?” I asked. Though deep down it was the last thing I wanted to know, at the same time... well I’ll put it like this. Have you ever known anypony who’s scared of spiders? I knew a few ponies who were and they all said the same thing, that if you knew there was a spider in the room then it was always better to know exactly where it was, because if you didn’t then it was everywhere and nowhere. In your hoofboots. In your wardrobe. In your bed lurking underneath the blanket. So although I was so terrified that I was frozen to the spot, I needed to know where the monster was. “Where are you?” I asked again.

“I’m close,” it said. I shook my head.

“That, that ain’t good enough.”

“You’re happier not seeing me. You’re happier not seeing my jaws as they snap around your body. It’s better for you this way, by far.”

Visions of beasts swamped my mind, monsters with too many teeth and a hundred claws and gorging on ghosts. I imagined slimy creatures with skin that oozed and pulsated, and which had tentacles that split open at the ends to form mouths. I dreamt up dragons, ‘cept they was smaller than normal ones—they’d have to be in order to hide in the park—but what they lacked in size they made up for in being twice as agile and quick, vicious and cruel, and I thought about their fangs dripping with ghostly glowing blood. On the one hoof the owner of the voice was right. I didn’t want to see what it looked like ‘cos what if it was even worse than what I was thinking? On the other hoof it was also lying. If there’s a spider in the room then you needed to know where it was.

A long time ago, I heard that dogs can smell fear and for some reason that always stuck with me. I wondered if the monster could smell it as well. Was that why it was tormenting like this, so that it could bask in the scent of my terror? I stamped a hoof in the snow. “Sh-show yourself, you coward!”

The creature replied in a tone that said all too plainly, you’re-seconds-away-from-being-eaten-and-there’s-nothing-you-can-do-about-it. “As you wish,” it said.

Something stirred on the lake, something huge. Turning round to face it I almost fell over again, but from fright this time, not 'cos of the wind. “It’s alright,” I whispered to myself frantically. “It can’t eat you. It can’t eat ghosts so everything’s alright.”

The lake was dark, however the cloud of shadowy mist which had formed over it was darker still, and all I could do was watch as it drifted lazily onto the shoreline where it began to change. If it was possible, it seemed to grow even darker than it already was ‘til I swear to everything that it looked like a patch of midnight which had dripped out of the night sky. A few seconds later it began to form itself into dreadful shapes, claws and fangs and teeth and paws and black matted fur which had never been washed. Less than a minute later, the mist had changed into a gigantic bear.

Now you gotta understand that up north seeing a bear ain’t all that unusual, particularly on the train to Dundeer. This one though was like none I’d ever seen before. For starters it was enormous, fully four or five times bigger than the biggest stallion I knew. But even if it had been smaller it still would’ve terrified the mane off me ‘cos it just didn’t look right, it didn’t look normal. Its face was rotting. Fire seemed to burn behind its eyes and it was thin to the point where you could make out its skeleton beneath its fur. It had so little flesh on its legs that they was like bones, and looking at 'em, I had no idea how it managed to hold itself up without those legs snapping in two, and I swear to Celestia herself, a slight breeze should’ve been enough to blow it over. The fact that it seemed so frail honestly terrified me more than if it had been all big and strong, ‘cos staring into those eyes, you sensed that it was desperate and angry and would stop at nothing to get its next meal—that's to say, me. I guess that’s what happens to you when you live off a diet of ghosts.

It leaned down and whispered in my ear. “You’re a fresh little spirit, oh yes, I can smell it. I’m going to enjoy eating you.”

“Th-then why don’t you get it over and done with?” I whimpered. If I ran across the lake it would catch me. If I ran down the path it would catch me. If I ran through the trees... you get the idea.

The bear gave a sickening laugh, circled me and drew deep breaths, taking in my scent. “How does it feel, foal, knowing that nopony is coming to save you?" it said. "The living can’t see my kind either. We walk in plain view of them in the streets and yet they never glance at us, never hear us, never smell us. So to answer your question it’s because you’re on your own, and there’s no rush whatsoever. You smell like you’re going to be especially tasty. I like to savour my food.”

The snowfall was getting heavier and the bear’s stomach growled. Something wet trickled down my face. It was tears, ‘cept they weren’t made from water but from the same glowing substance that my hoofprints were. My tears were lights shining in the darkness.

By now the brute was drooling, and when it stuck out its tongue I saw that it was forked, not at all like a regular bear’s. It took a great big sniff of me and sighed, overjoyed to come across a spirit as tasty as me (told you I was one of a kind! Even the bear knew it). I was deader than dead. I wouldn't even be a ghost. I'd... I'd...

I'd be nothing, nothing at all.

I gulped, my mind refusing to accept the full horror of it. I'd be nothing. No flesh, no thoughts, no sight. Just nothing. Nothing at all. I guess I might've lost my head there and then and let the bear swallow me up, 'cept one single thought kept me going, like the light at the end of a long, looong tunnel: I was still here, wasn’t I? Then that meant I still had a chance! For a second I shut my eyes, and I was gonna see mum again. I was gonna play on my street one last time and see my friends, see my family. The snowflakes would pat against my window and I’d be there to watch ‘em, and then on Hearth’s Warming Eve I’d go and see the light’s being switched on in town and I’d see the pageant and cheer at all the right parts and join in the carol singing afterwards. So what if I was a ghost and the performers wouldn’t hear me cheering? Every year I looked forward to that play, and I was gonna be damned if I’d let some horrible monster take that away from me. He wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t allowed to eat me...

For mum's sake as much as my own, I had to escape, I had to see her again. I had to, I had to!

But how? I guessed that the bear was faster than me, but maybe if I hid in the trees? Would it simply be able to pass through ‘em like they weren’t even there, like what I could do myself now that I was a ghost? Whatever the case there was no reason not to try, and my head told me that for the moment I had to keep the monster talking. “You, you must be real lonely,” I said. “Can’t you go vegetarian? Err, I bet we’d have loads to talk about if only you didn’t eat me.”

The bear sneered. “I’ve already eaten the ghosts of two fillies today and they both told me the same thing. Treasure your last moments, colt. Don’t waste them on talking.”

The way it spoke, you would've sworn that it was doing me a massive favour, letting me have a last few seconds to have to myself before those jaws ripped me apart. Look at the way he circled me, safe in the knowledge I had nowhere to run. I thought of a playground bully picking on a foal half their size; the bear was enjoying torturing me like this. Yep, it was nothing more than a bully with fangs and claws.

“You’re lying,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You can’t eat ghosts.”

“Accept it, spirit. You died and of all the paths you could have crossed, you ran into mine. You’re plain out of luck.”

The moment, I knew, was seconds away, ‘cos either it was gonna get bored of watching me quiver or I was gonna run and it was going to try and catch me. It was simply a matter of who’d act first. Me or him?

I wasn’t gonna give it the chance.

Faster than a Wonderbolt, I ran like fury, ran like nothing else in the world mattered, and I swear to everything that though I’d never been much of a runner you’d never have guessed it from how fast I was going. The bear roared. It was a sound straight from a nightmare, a noise to haunt your dreams for the rest of time.

Knowing that carrying on down the path would’ve meant certain doom, I turned sharp left back into the trees. Mum’s voice was in my head. Faster Camera, run faster!

The bear was charging right behind me. I didn’t dare turn round.

Trees, branches—

Snow, ice—

A streetlamp...

I burst outta the trees and bushes and onto a new path with iron gates waiting for me at the end, along with a streetlamp on the other side of it. If only I could reach it then perhaps the light would scare away the bear, and—

“WHOA!”

Too late. The great beast emerged from nowhere, shoved me to ground and pinned me down. Rather than passing through me like everything else has done, its paw, bigger than a yoke like what farm ponies use, felt frighteningly solid again my chest.

I screamed.

“No use in crying,” it spat, furious. I s’pose it wasn’t used to its food having the nerve to run away like that. The bear opened its mouth, filling my vision with teeth and slime and tongue and drool, and though I couldn’t smell anything being a ghost, that didn't stop me from imagining the stench of death on its breath.

There was nothing more I wanted than to close my eyes and think of mum, think of hugging her, remember the way she comforted me after nightmares or how she used to make me hot chocolate on chilly winter evenings and make me lemonade in summer afternoons. More than anything else, I remembered all the times she told me to be brave...

This, more than any other in either life or death, was a time to be brave. I didn’t wanna give the wolf the satisfaction of closing my eyes, so though it meant that my last few moments of existence were gonna be the worst by far, I kept ‘em open, I kept them open for mum's pride and for my own. The bear’s gaze caught mine, and—

And what I saw caught me so off-guard that for a moment I forget to feel afraid. Was I seeing this right? No, I couldn’t have been, surely not. I must have been dreaming it.

The bear was terrified.

“Hah!” I said, a million billion times more bravely than I felt. “Ain’t so tough now, are you?”

The bear ignored me completely. Instead it stared at the sky as though able to sense something hidden by the snowfall. It jerked his head this way and that. What was it looking for?

Without another word, it transformed back into the cloud of black mist and fast as anything disappeared into the darkness of the park leaving me all on my own, still on my back in the snow.

I blinked.

I stood up, every tiny sound making me jump and the noise of the snow patting on the ground putting me on edge. My whole body was in shock as I tried and failed to take everything in; the light of the nearby streetlamp; the snow; the tears rolling down my face; and of course my glowing hoofprints. It was all too much. The snow had never felt so wondrous. Every second which passed was a gift, and I was still here and when it finally struck me that the monster wasn’t coming back, I laughed! I mean, not very much, but all the same it was my first laugh for days.

I was still here. I was still here!

Something the bear had said hung on my mind. Two things, actually. The first was that he had referred to himself as ‘we’ so I guess that meant there was more of 'em. The second was when it had said that of all the paths I could've crossed, I had run into his. It got me thinking. If I hadn’t have spent three days moping in the park feeling sorry for myself then this wouldn’t have happened. If I’d gone straight home, then right now I’d be with mum and I’d be safe. If I’d left my house a minute later or half a minute earlier then I wouldn’t have been standing in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time and the cart would’ve missed me and I’d still be alive and everything would be alright and everything would be fine and everything would’ve been brilliant.

As the wind whipped the snow into my face, I realised that I was crying again, silently this time. The bear did at least one good thing: I was out in the open, and I wasn’t trembling under my tree no more. In fact, I was flat out of excuses about why I had to stay in the park. There was nothing else for it.

It was time to go home.