Partial

by Halira

Chapter 41: Anger About Monsters

Wisdom is the opposite of common sense, for what is common is to be a fool.

Was putting quotes on doors just a current fad or something? She felt like she was in Wabash looking at one of her auntie’s Bible verses. Even more unnerving was it was a paraphrasing of something she was often quoted, thanks to her auntie putting it in a book and saying something closer to this in commentary. Did they even know she was the source of this? Probably not. Was it being on Mark’s door fate? She believed in fate; all things followed specific rules and were governed by cause and effect, which meant that every outcome was ultimately predetermined, even if it was impossible to track all the factors that led to that outcome. No one could predict fate; there were too many variables to follow, which made worrying about it pointless, but that didn’t mean fate wasn’t real.

It may serve no purpose, but she hoped fate was giving her affirmation and not making fun of her.

“Mark?” she gently said as she opened the door and entered the room. She made sure her voice carried.

The covers on the bed rustled a little, but he didn’t come out. At least he was responding to her.

His room was filled with toys, primarily legos, but there were some toy cars and toy car tracks, as well as some crayons and paper. There was no sign of action figures, and the only stuffed animal was the one she’d given him. These must be the toys from his grandmother’s apartment. The fact there were so many toy cars felt encouraging since she was a mechanic. It was something he seemed to have an interest in that she knew something about. Sure, he might not know much more about cars at the moment than they looked cool and they went around on wheels, but it was something that they could build on.

She walked over to the bed. It was a pony bed, specifically for foals, which meant it was shallow to the ground. The covers were without design and a blue that matched her hair. It amazed her sometimes how small she must have once been if she had slept in a bed not too much different than this one. However, for Mark, it was massive. Again, she reflected on how big Mark would get as he got older. He was small; even most pony foals his age were bigger. There was the possibility of a significant growth spurt when he hit puberty, but it would have to be massive if he was ever to reach the size of the average pony when he grew up. He’d easily be trampled by just about everyone, including ponies, because he was so small they might not notice he was there.

When you were that small, the world seemed that much bigger and frightening.

She knelt next to the bed. “Hey, Mark. I know I’ve been away for a while. I heard you didn’t want to eat your fruit last night.”

No stir from under the covers. His heart rate and breathing were regular, so he wasn’t scared.

“Are you angry they made you eat fruit?” she asked.

Still no stir.

“I also heard that a dog was barking last night. Are you scared of the dog?”

There was no response, but his heartbeat did jump for a moment. That was confirmation enough that the dog was scary.

“It’s okay. We all get scared of things,” she reassured him. “You might not believe me since I’m so tall, but I’m scared of heights. When I was little, I took a massive fall. I hit the ground so hard that I almost died. I can’t stand being too high up ever since then.”

Mark sat still where he was, not saying anything.

All she could do was keep talking. “I actually got scared of something else last night-” she began, then decided against saying what. If she told him about the haunted doll, it might give him nightmares. The last thing she wanted to do was have him up all night worrying about whether a doll would get him. “-but even though I got scared, I’m up and about now, visiting you. We can’t hide away forever. Most things we’re scared of aren’t that scary once we learn about them. Maybe we can meet this scary dog, and it won’t be as scary.”

“Closet,” Mark whimpered.

She blinked and turned to look at the open closet door. “Closet? Does the closet scare you?”

She stood up and went to close the closet door. The only thing in the closet was a hamper full of his custom shorts–at least he had a change of clothes, although he desperately needed some shirts and shoes. Those would need to be custom-made as well. His humped posture might impact his shirt sizes. Perhaps she could take his measurements and get him some. She had a tailor for her shorts. They could likely figure out shirts for Mark. Shoes would be another issue. Mark’s fused toes might make regular footwear nonviable. Was cobbler even a job anymore? Were there enough people who needed custom shoes that it could support a career? There were plenty of people in the world with odd-shaped feet, so someone somewhere had to make custom footwear.

“Do you need a change of shorts? Did you wet the bed?” she asked.

“No. Monster,” Mark answered.

Monster in the closet. She might not be a child expert, but she knew that was a classic fear. Phobia had pulled that bit on her in her dreams a few times–along with the monster under the bed. The Warden of Fear seemed to enjoy playing to the tropes. Phobia had better not be pulling that stunt with Mark. It seemed unlikely. While Phobia could get into the dreams of humans and partials with the assistance of one of the undead Dreamwardens, she typically didn’t unless she had an excellent reason to. This had to be Mark’s mind playing tricks on him.

She went through the motions of checking for monsters. She picked through the shorts in the hamper, ensuring nothing else was there. Checked behind the hamper and patted the walls of the closet to ensure there were no hidden doors or panels. It was primarily just for show so Mark could hear her checking, but with how many crazy things she’d seen in her life, it was still worth legitimately checking for anything out of the ordinary. Just because it was a ninety-nine percent chance it was Mark’s imagination didn’t mean she should disregard the one percent chance it wasn’t.

After confirming there wasn’t anything in the closet that didn’t belong, she pushed the closet door shut. Once she heard it latch, she smiled at the covers. “There, now the door is closed, and whatever you saw there can’t get you.”

Mark finally stuck his ears out from under the blanket, twitching and angling them to listen. His horn was visible as well. He then stuck his head out to confirm the closet door was closed.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” she reassured him. “It’s not like any monster would try anything while I’m here. I’m big and strong enough to take on a monster.”

Mark gave the closet an apprehensive look. “Scary. Watching.”

“The monster was watching you from the closet?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She smiled. “What did the monster look like? Was it big?”

“Little,” Mark answered.

What could be little that would spook him? A cat, maybe? Did Jack and Jill have a cat? He could have seen the light hitting the cat’s eyes if that was the case. It was easy enough to determine if there was a cat around; she just had to listen.

After a few seconds of listening, she determined there was no heartbeat or breathing that would correspond with something a cat’s size in the house or immediately outside…aside from Mark. From her little experience, cats tended to stick close to their homes if they were both inside and outside, so it was unlikely there was one. Still, it struck her as unusual that Mark would imagine a little monster when she expected it was big things that would be scary for him. What else could scare him? Spiders, maybe? Auntie, despite how intimidating others found her, was extremely terrified of spiders. Perhaps Mark shared the arachnophobia.

“Other than little, what did it look like? Did it have lots of legs?” she asked. “Give me the best description you can.”

“No. Two legs. Two arms,” Mark answered. “It sat. Black eyes. Brown skin. Black mouth. No nose. No ears. Little.”

Her ears flattened. It couldn’t be. That fudging doll? She didn’t care if Phobia didn’t have the thing anymore. The Dreamwarden still had to know where it was. She was going to call Phobia and tell her to do whatever it took to stop that doll from terrorizing her and especially from terrorizing Mark. What did it want with them? Why had the thing suddenly gotten active again after years of being quiet?

She knelt and gave Mark a determined look. “I think I know what the monster was. I will do what I can to make sure it doesn’t bother you anymore. If you see it again, don’t look at it. It will go away if you can’t see it. It can’t hurt you; just close your eyes and count to three, and it will be gone…can you count to three?”

Mark sat up in bed and nodded. “Can count twenty.”

She had to fake being impressed since she had been doing algebra by his age, but she also knew that she was unusually gifted at math. “Good job, but three is enough.” From what she understood, just blinking might be enough, but three was a comforting number. “Just close your eyes, count to three, and open them again, and that doll will be gone. If no one sees it, it will stop being there. Remember, it’s just a doll. Dolls can’t hurt you. They can’t move on their own.”

Mark seemed confused. “How go away if can’t move?”

That was one of his longest questions, even if his wording was slightly broken. They’d work on his sentences. He needed to learn how to speak clearly. People were already going to be treating him differently for how he looked. They’d treat him worse if he didn’t sound intelligent. Mark could reason at least as well as the majority of kids his age. He didn’t need people treating him like he was dumb on top of everything else.

She shook her head. “That’s a good question I don’t know the answer to, but I know it goes away. I’ve seen the doll before and have met others who have seen it. It is only there for as long as someone is looking at it. Once everyone stops looking at it, it goes away. Remember, count to three.”

“Three,” Mark repeated. “One. Two. Three.”

She nodded. “Good, just like that, only with your eyes closed.”

Should she tell Jack and Jill about the doll? They’d probably think she was crazy if she told them there was a haunted doll that could pop up out of nowhere. It might be best not to say anything, but she wanted to know if the thing reappeared.

Her ears twitched, and she smiled at Mark. “I know you are hungry. I hear your tummy rumbling. Nothing gets past my ears. Do you want to come have breakfast with me?”

He climbed out of the bed, looking like some horned monkey as he did so. She took a better look at his feet. The toes were fused together, but that section was also much thicker than where the toe area would be, and he did tend to put all his weight on that area. His heel seemed to be proportionately more diminutive, and she was unsure if it would support much weight at all if he tried to put his weight on his heel. This wasn’t something she could just describe. Whoever made his shoes would have to look at his feet and likely take a cast of them. No standard shoe would fit him, but the toe area didn’t look protected enough to risk him going around barefoot. Surprisingly, his feet had no fur at all. If he had fur, that would be at least some protection. His feet were not equipped to deal with the outside. He’d hurt himself walking around on those things. Perhaps thinking of them as feet was a mistake. Maybe thinking of them as underdeveloped hooves would be better.

She decided to ask Jack and Jill about whether she could help out with his clothes and shoes. While she was at it, she would mention that he might bring up seeing a doll and that she’d already told him a strategy to make it disappear. She’d never imply the doll was real. She’d spent enough time dealing with Dreamwardens to be able to suggest the doll was just a figment of Mark’s imagination without ever actually saying that.

The bigger problem would be if one of the other people in the house saw the doll. There had been enough insanity in her family’s past that she could tell her dad anything, no matter how outlandish, and he’d believe her, and she would tell him everything she knew about the doll. However, these were regular people living regular lives. They’d never been directly exposed to the crap she’d been exposed to–killer crystal ponies, all the crap that ever happened at Wabash Manor, planets that defied physics, and general Dreamwarden nonsense. They might freak out if they learned some haunted doll made trips to their house.

“Dad,” she whispered, projecting her voice to only him. “Don’t respond, but Phobia’ haunted doll has been here.”

“Phobia’s what?!” her dad replied in dismay.

“You okay, Paul?” Jack asked.

“What was that about a phobia?” Jill asked.

Jessica groaned in frustration. “I said don’t respond! I didn’t want everyone to know. Jack and Jill will never understand, or they’ll understand, and they’ll panic. Never mind. I’ll tell you later. It isn’t that urgent.”

“Everything's fine,” she heard her dad explain. “Jess was just telling me about a possible fear Mark might have. I’ll look into it later.”

“Oh! What does she suspect he’s afraid of?” Jill asked.

“Pediophobia–fear of dolls,” her dad answered.

“Good thing he’s not in a home with a lot of girls then,” Jack laughed. “Not that boys can’t play with dolls, but you’ll find ten or more little girls playing with dolls for every boy who does.”

Jess rolled her eyes. Action figures were dolls, and those were common with boys. Giving them a different name didn’t change what they were. Arguing the point wasn’t worth her time. It might make Jack and Jill decide to avoid getting Mark action figures. She didn’t know if he cared for action figures, but she didn’t want to lose him the option. She may have denied him other dolls, not that she expected his foster home to try buying him any, but still.

There was only one doll she cared about at the moment, and she’d see that it stayed gone.

---

Charlotte grimaced as she looked around the airport lobby. Thanks to a few delays getting off the plane, she’d lost track of the strange-smelling woman and her keepers. They’d probably moved her to the TSA holding room if they were concerned she presented a risk. They most likely had everything under control, but something about that woman unnerved her and set all her internal alarm bells ringing. If your instincts said something was seriously wrong, it was best not to ignore them. The best case scenario is you waste your time; the worst case is you’re right, and then someone gets hurt that you could have protected.

It still hadn’t been confirmed that it was authorities transporting the woman. It could be the woman herself who was in danger. Finding out where she was and ensuring that everything was on the up and up was worth a few minutes of Charlotte’s time.

No one was at the lounge and bar in the airport lobby aside from employees. Judging by the prices of the specials posted, it was likely too expensive for most people. Fifty dollars for a sandwich, soup, and salad? That was highway robbery. Scratch that; there did seem to be a small number of patrons in the corner. If people were hungry enough, they’d pay whatever.

She continued out of the lobby. They said this layover would last approximately four hours–assuming no additional complications. If it did end earlier, there would be an announcement on the intercoms and an alert sent to everyone’s phone. It was aggravating having a four-hour layover in Nashville when it was supposed to have been an hour-and-a-half flight, but there was no helping it. With that in mind, there wasn’t much reason to wait in the lobby.

Airport geography was not one of her strong suits. So, it took her a while to figure out where the TSA security rooms were. There was no telling if the woman and those watching her were in any of the rooms since, as soon as Charlotte got close to one, TSA agents ordered her away from the area. At least they were doing their jobs. She was no bloodhound, but there wasn’t any trace of that scent near where they were working. It didn’t mean the woman wasn’t there, but that scent had been strong enough that even humans should have been able to smell it. It seemed like something that might linger.

Not much to do but wander around and keep her senses peeled for the strange lady and her keepers. This place had to have a gift shop, right? Every airport had a gift shop. Maybe she could find something nice for her brother or one of her nieces or nephews. She was in Tennessee; perhaps they had some Dolly Parton memorabilia–that was a pony that legitimately deserved hero status for how she had stood up for the ponies of Tennessee after the Tennessee government tried to force them out of their homes. Ironically, now, years later, the Tennessee government tried to profit off her image since she had passed away, and public opinion was almost entirely on the old earth pony’s side as a major pony rights leader from the formative time right after ETS. Hardly anyone remembered her for her music career as a human anymore. No, they remembered the images of the old earth pony standing defiant against the National Guard, guns drawn against her as if she were the most dangerous person on Earth, daring them to force her off her land or take the ponies she was sheltering in her theme park. Dolly had no extraordinary power, just force of will and determination enough to stand up for what was right–unlike Charlotte’s grandmother, who had convinced ponies to abandon their homes at the government’s request, an order Charlotte would never follow if given to her, and to hell with it if they court-martialed her for it. She hoped that she could be half the pony that stubborn old codger had been.

There were lots of long and wide corridors with pictures of mountains, wooden cabins, country music stars, and the Nashville skyline plastered everywhere; this place certainly felt like a tourism advertisement for the state. While it was better than plain white walls, it still seemed pointless to advertise the state when people were already here. Why couldn’t they do something unique to make the airport itself an experience? She was no interior designer, so maybe she was missing something.

Speaking of missing something…as she turned a corner, she spotted two of the woman’s guards standing outside the restroom, and they had it blocked off. That looked like the only restroom, at least as far as she had seen. Most places had one large restroom filled with stalls unless they had a locker room or showers, in which case they had two restrooms, but this place must not have those. If she was using the restroom, they could have just guarded the stall. They didn’t need to block off the entire restroom. What was going on in there?

She wandered over to the restroom. “Hey, guys. Is it okay for me to use this? I really need to pee.”

The guards looked down on her. “Sorry, the restroom is closed for the time being. You can try coming back in a few minutes.”

The smell was more intense here, way more intense than back on the plane.

“Eww!” she said, waving a wing before her face. “What’s that stench?”

“Sick passenger. Don’t worry, we have it under control,” the guard answered. He looked at her wings. “I know who you are. You’re the Warden of Fear’s daughter. I heard you brought an entire tower in a training camp’s obstacle course down on top of yourself. How’d you even manage to do that? You super strong or something?”

She scowled, hating once again getting referred to in relation to her mother.

“None of anyone’s business how that thing came down on me,” she replied in a tight voice.

“Gossip spreads. I’m sure most of the army has heard about the dumbass who brought the tower down. People say you ended up breaking a wing. It’s a shock no one else got hurt and that you avoided getting hurt worse,” the guard replied. “I saw you eying the person we’re escorting. Don’t worry, Nightmare Princess, we have everything under control. We even have an Equestrian to help us out who knows how to keep the thing in line. You can run along. We don’t need any assistance from the likes of you. You don’t have your mommy or Aunt Wild Growth to pull your tail out of the flames, and we don’t need you screwing things up because you think being the daughter of the Nightmare Queen means you get to do what you want. Go play soldier somewhere else.”

Playing soldier? If they were looking for a rise out of her, they weren’t getting it. Tempest had drilled her extensively in keeping her temper in check since Grandma Sunset had repeatedly demonstrated how much easier a foe was to defeat once anger got the best of them. As for that tower, that was none of their business. They could gossip all they wanted; it wouldn’t change what happened.

There were some interesting details they gave away. They said they had an equestrian with them. That night pony must be who they were talking about. They also called the woman a thing, which indicated that she was not what she appeared to be. That would explain the smell. Why was ot worse now? If that woman was some Equestrian monster, how did she end up on Earth? Random portals did open from time to time and were expected to increase in frequency now that Earth was actively using magic, but those portals typically flowed into Equestria, not out, not unless a mage forced their way through. Still, it seemed unlikely to be that, which left coming through one of the stable portals. Some monster sneaking through the level of security those portals had seemed equally unlikely. The only logical way it happened was if someone deliberately let it through, but to what purpose?

The smell suddenly intensified, so much so that even the guards gagged and looked back at the restroom.

“I think she’s got it all out!” a voice came from inside the restroom. “Wow, that reeks! It’s going to be hard explaining this to the custodial staff, and I’m not touching that gunk!”

“Vile pony’s fault! Bad thoughts make everything rancid!” another voice called out, sounding out of breath.

“Heh, I didn’t know you had that word in your vocabulary. You impressed me,” the first voice said snidely. “Maybe you aren’t as dumb as you look, but, honestly, a rock looks more intelligent than you do, so that’s not saying much.”

“Hateful pony needs to go away!” the out-of-breath voice said, sounding almost like she was begging.

Charlotte spread her wings and glared at the guards. “I don’t know the details, but it sounds like you’re torturing whatever is in there and deliberately making it sick. I don’t know what it is, why it is here, or how dangerous it might be, but I know I don’t condone torture.”

The guard frowned at her. “Get your self-righteous tail out of a knot. We aren’t torturing anybody. This is not your business. We take our marching orders from the top, not from you. Go away before we have you taken on for questioning.”

She gestured with a wing. “Whoever is speaking in there doesn’t seem to be showing any compassion or empathy for it being sick, and worse, is further verbally degrading it. That is not how we do things.”

The guard pulled out his cell phone. “Last chance, princess. Leave, or I’m calling you in.”

Tightly folding her wings to her side, she turned and walked away without a word. There was no point in further confrontation at the moment. She’d just make a scene. She could keep an eye on what was going on. This whole thing smelled rotten, and only a minimum of that rottenness was reaching her nose.

Comments

[Seven Fates]

Bursa somehow end up back on Earth? Or some other changeling?