The Alley Outside of 7/11: An Anthology

by The Red Parade

The End.

The sun streamed through her window, casting shadows about her room. It lit up the room nicely, casting a golden glow over the wooden furnishings. Fiddlesticks let out a sigh of contentment as she took in the serenity of her room.

It was a perfect morning, she thought. Outside, the sky was a blank blue canvas, without a single cloud to intrude on its purity. It was the perfect scene for a parade, or even a picnic. Fiddle sat up on her bed, tossing aside her blankets. She swung her legs over the side and hopped off. As much as she would have liked to lay in bed all day, she had things to do.

She liked to think of herself as a fairly simple mare, one who enjoyed the small things in life like the beauty of a sunrise. She thought of the chores and tasks that awaited her, mentally planning out where in the orchard she would have to go today.

Living in Appleoosa with her brother had proven to be an exciting challenge. Fiddle had spent the past few years learning how to survive in the desert and how to tend to the namesake of the Apple family. Still, she wouldn’t change it for the world.

Fiddlesticks crossed the room, entering her bathroom. She turned on the sink, splashing some water on her face. Her mind wandered as she did so, thinking of musical phrases and rhythms that she would put to practice on her beloved fiddle later.

Suddenly, Fiddlesticks’s eyes shot open. Her breath hitched, and she felt a strange fluttering sensation in her heart. The room around her suddenly started spinning, and Fiddlesticks had to reach out and grab the sides of her sink to keep herself from falling.

“Woah there. Breathe, girl, breathe!”

Her eyes shot up into the mirror, and for a brief second she thought she saw something move behind her. She whirled around, water drops flying off her faith, only to find there was nothing there.

After a few deep breaths, Fiddlesticks rubbed her eyes and turned around again. She stared at the mirror, and a pale yellow mare with a cobalt blue mane stared back at her. Fiddlesticks frowned, feeling her heart beating fast. “Now what the hay was that about?”

Fiddlesticks sighed, regaining her composure. She shut off the water and trotted back into her room, shaking her head. “This has been happenin’ a lot lately,” she thought. “But it’s gettin’ worse. Reckon Ah should go see the doctor.”

After drying off her face, Fiddle returned to her bedroom. She went over to her bed and threw on a light green shirt before typing her favorite red bandana around her neck. But as she turned to grab her white stetson hat she froze.

Somehow, the room seemed darker than it was before. The bright warm yellow of the morning sun was muted now, and shadows seemed to obscure the corners of her room. The sky outside seemed less blue than it had before, and even the room itself seemd darker and smaller. Shaking her head, she placed her hat atop her head and opened the door.

As she stepped out into the hallway, Fiddle felt that something was different. The house was eerily silent, and Fiddle couldn’t hear the voices of her family. She descended the stairs, unease and anxiety building in her stomach. As she reached the first floor she looked around, but everything seemed to be normal.

In the dining room, Fiddlesticks saw three ponies sitting around the table: her brother, her sister, and her marefriend. They sat with their hooves clasped above the table, staring down with their eyes closed. Her eyes went to the empty seat in between her brother and marefriend, the seat that she usually took.

But for some strange reason, she didn’t feel like joining them. Instead, she turned away from them and headed for the door. As her hoof reached for the doorknob, her ear twitched as she heard something behind her.

Looking back, she saw that a strange black pony-shaped form had taken her seat. It stared at her with pure white eyes, a crooked smile on its maw. As it locked eyes with her it stood, and began walking-- no, drifting towards her.

As it moved, she could hear a strange rattling noise that almost sounded like the rattle of sticks on a snare drum. Her heart began to race, and Fiddlesticks yanked open the door and ran out of the house.

But instead of ending up on her front porch, Fiddlesticks founder herself in some sort of office. Fiddlesticks looked around in confusion, seeing nonsensical medical posters dotting the walls. On the examination table there was a form covered in a white sheet, with a doctor in a lab coat standing next to it.

The doctor was frowning, scribbling notes on his clipboard. He didn’t seem to notice that Fiddle had entered the room. Fiddlesticks approached the table cautiously, wondering just what was going on. Suddenly, she froze. The beating of drums had started again, this time from under the sheet.

Abruptly, the same shadowy figure threw off the sheet and sat up, staring at her with pure white eyes and a hungry grin. It laughed, and the drums grew louder and louder.

Fiddlesticks turned and sprinted for the door, yanking it open and jumping through. This time she found herself on a porch, but not of her own house. In front of her was a massive expanse of apple orchards, stretching as far as her eyes could see.

An orange mare in a stetson hat waved to her. Fiddlesticks vaguely recognized her, but her mind was muddled and clouded. She absently waved back, and the mare gestured for Fiddle to follow her.

She complied, and followed her down the dirt path towards a town. As they walked down the street, Fiddle saw two ponies arguing in the middle of the road. They looked familiar, but Fiddle just couldn’t place their faces.

The first, a pegasus, pointed a hoof accusingly at the other pony, who was swaying on her hooves and stumbling. The drunk pony laughed, and the pegasus turned away in disgust.

The drunk pony laughed again and turned, making eye contact with Fiddle. Before her eyes, the pony morphed and twisted, becoming the shadow creature that was stalking her. The sound of drums kicked in again, and panic rose within Fiddle’s mind.

She turned and ran off down the street. Fiddle ran and ran, but the sound of the drums only grew louder and louder. As she rounded a corner, Fiddle found herself amidst a large crowd of cheering ponies on the sidewalk.

On the street, a marching band was making its way down the road, the drums beating out a steady beat. The band wore pure black uniforms, from their jackets to their hats, and their instruments swayed in time.

The music was loud and deafening, yet Fiddle couldn’t seem to make out the notes. The song was somber and slow, and she could almost hear a voice singing out some lyrics.
The pony at the head of the parade waved a baton high in the air, eyes closed as they led the band forwards.

At the far end, a pair of ponies wandered into the street. Fiddle recognized them as the pegasus and the pony she had seen earlier. The pegasus shouted something, tears streaming down their face, while the other pony shook their head sadly and turned away.

The pegasus stomped on the ground and shot off into the sky, leaving the other pony behind. The pony took a deep breath and began to cry. She shoved past Fiddle, running through the band and entering a building on the other side of the street.

Fiddle followed her, although she wasn’t sure why. Pushing the door open, Fiddle felt a chill run down her spine. The room she had entered was some sort of bar, with a raised platform at the far end of the room. A white unicorn was manning the booth, pumping out tunes that were both deafening and soundless.

While the bar was filled with ponies, Fiddle could only make out one face: that of a gray earth pony sitting at a booth, head in her hooves and crying. The mare wiped her eyes and looked up, locking eyes with Fiddle. Suddenly all the noise stopped, and Fiddle felt every eye in the bar turn towards her. And in the absence of the noise, she heard the drums again.

Something shoved her from behind, and Fiddlesticks came crashing to the ground. Somehow she didn’t feel any pain or discomfort as her chin came crashing to the floor. She scrambled to her hooves, looking around for her assailant but not finding them.

As she got up, she realized she was no longer in the bar, but in some sort of hallway. Rooms lined either side of the hall, with doors and windows offering her some glimpses inside.

Looking into one room, Fiddle saw the two ponies again. The earth pony was laying in the bed, listening as a faceless doctor droned on about something. The pegasus was sitting at the foot of the bed, tense and alert. Her frown deepened with every word.

Fiddle recomposed herself and proceeded down the hallway, although unsure of why. In the next room, Fiddle saw an older gray pony, sitting next to the same earth pony from before. They laughed at something the older pony said, and smiled at each other. They looked up and saw Fiddle, before smiling at her and waving. The light in their room went out, plunging the room into darkness.

With a confused shake of her head, Fiddle continued down the hall. Then, she paused. One of the doors was open. Fiddle gently nosed open the door and peered inside. The room was that of a standard hospital room, with a medical bed in the center. The recurring earth pony was laying there, apparently asleep.

As she approached the bed, however, the mare opened her eyes and looked at her. Then, Fiddlesticks realized why this mare was so familiar: she was looking at herself. The other Fiddlesticks sighed and closed her eyes again, turning away from her.

Fiddlesticks turned around to see another pony standing in the doorway. This version appeared to be a teenaged version of herself. The teenager awkwardly rubbed her foreleg, her eyes never leaving the bed.

The other Fiddlesticks turned around to look at the teenager. The frown on her face deepened, although her face softened. The other Fiddlesticks looked nostalgic and sad. She raised a hoof, as if reaching towards the teenager, but the teenager shrunk back.

Fiddle’s ear twitched. There was a faint beeping noise coming from behind her. Turning, Fiddlesticks saw a heart monitor, letting out slow, monotonous beeps. As she watched, the beeping grew faster or faster.

Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered, and in a panic Fiddlesticks whirled around to find that she was alone in the room. Her ear twitched as she heard slow, heavy hoofsteps in the hallway, accompanied by heavy breathing and the rattling of snare drums. Through the window, Fiddle saw a dark form making its way down the hall.

The form stopped and turned to look through the window. Something in Fiddle’s mind told her to hide, so she dived into the hospital bed and pulled the covers over her head.

She closed her eyes as her breathing quickened, hoping that whatever was outside would just go away. The beeping of the heart monitor grew faster and more sporadic. Fiddle heard the creak of the door opening, and the breathing grew louder.

“Dream… this has gotta be a dream,” Fiddle muttered to herself, pulling the covers tighter. “Yeah, that’s it. A dream. Ah’ll wake up and it’ll all be over.”

The heart monitor disagreed with her, the beeps merging together to form a cascade of noise. The breathing and drumming grew louder and louder.

“Just a dream. Just a dream. Wake up, Fiddle, wake up,” she muttered as her heart pounded in her head.

The hoofsteps came to a stop right next to the bed. Fiddle held her breath. The heart monitor suddenly flatlined, letting out a single note. As everything fell silent around her, Fiddlesticks took a deep, shaky breath. Finally, she woke up.