Chapter 5
I was a heavy sleeper.
It was a curse that I had to grin and bear during my formative years; my mother always had trouble shooing me out the door on time for the morning bus, and at least eighty percent of the challenge stemmed from pulling me away from the world of dreams.
Now, though?
It was a blessing. Granted, the infernal klaxons of my alarm clock were loud enough to rouse the dead, but at least I had control over when I woke up. Noise pollution was a bitch, and living smack dab in the middle of the city with thin walls was a recipe for disaster.
There was one downside, besides the obvious ones, however. My dreams were… strange at best. Frequently, I would wake up with the dying embers of some potent emotion that made my stomach churn and my body drenched in sweat. It was a phenomenon that started to occur after-
After? After what?
The answer was on the tip of my tongue, but I just-
-I couldn’t remember.
My eyes reluctantly opened, and I blinked out the grogginess as my mind floated between dreams and consciousness. I was exhausted, but this was an unfamiliar flavor of it. It was less of a ‘running on fumes’ sort of fatigue that I was unfortunately accustomed to and more of an ‘I just sprinted a full marathon.’
My aching bones felt like someone had used them as an impromptu xylophone and the tinge of fear still scraping at my chest did little to help matters.
I doubt my shitty insurance will cover whatever the hell this is. I squirmed underneath my blankets. The dull aches and pains promised to make today completely unbearable. Melatonin and NyQuil just aren’t cutting it.
However, I heard a noise when I tried to filter out the incoherent dribble floating inside my headspace from my current train of thought.
It was too soft to be the blaring tone of my alarm, but it was too loud to be something of no consequence.
I sighed.
My head was still swimming with drowsiness as I tried to sit up and get out of bed. Like every other morning before this one, I could always count on the sight of my apartment bedroom to provide me with some comfort, even if that felt fleeting in the face of my current symptoms.
My bleary eyes opened wider, and I noticed my iPhone vibrating on my nightstand, the sight strangling the kaleidoscope of butterflies that fluttered in my stomach and washed away whatever spiritual residue my night terror had afflicted me with.
It was all just a dream, Daniel. Get ahold of yourself.
Gingerly, I stretched out my left arm and pawed at my phone before collapsing back into bed.
“Even the prank callers are feeling lazy today, it seems,” I spoke aloud. “I mean, seriously? Unknown Caller? At least spoof a local number before trying to sell me an extended car warranty on my museum piece.”
My tired eyes lingered on my phone’s screen for a few more seconds before the call abruptly ended, and my patience was awarded a glimpse at the local time: 4:28 am, Wednesday, June 23. Three hours too early for work, three hours too late to fall back asleep.
Fucking insomnia.
When I blinked once more and my cluttered apartment came into focus, I resisted the urge to dig my face into my pillow and scream as I continued to stare at the wallpaper of my lock screen. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet it seemed like it was yesterday that I went on that trip.
It had been a foggy, soaking evening that day. I distinctly remembered the splashing of my shoes on the rainswept sidewalks as I traversed the busy streets of New York City with my friends.
Out of all the pictures I took on that trip, I could never understand why I used this one as the background for my lock screen. It didn’t feature any familiar faces or any of the famous landmarks that attracted starry-eyed tourists to them like a moth to a flame. Hell, I probably took more photos of that trip than there were grey and black vans immortalized in this single frame.
But something stood out in this one, and it wasn’t the way that the golden rays from the headlights reflected off the wet surface of the paved road or the ever-encompassing fog that obfuscated my view past the first seven or so buildings like a PlayStation One title.
It was something else. Something that I needed to remember dearly, but couldn’t.
I reached out, pulled the cord for my lampshade, and winced as the room became bathed in light. Rubbing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment to adjust to the sudden change in the ambiance while also yawning into my hand.
“Fucking Wednesdays,” I winced a bit at the aches and pains reasserting themselves now that I was fully immersed in the waking world again. I completely empathized with people and their vehement hate for Mondays, but where was that same hate for Wednesdays?
They were too far away from the weekend but close enough to make the week feel like it was dragging on forever. It didn’t help that I usually ended up swamped with work obligations around Wednesdays, either.
Speaking of my busy schedule- what even is happening this week?
I tried to recall what I would expect at work today or anything that happened in the past week, but I didn’t come up with anything. It was almost as if entire chunks of my memory were misplaced or just missing entirely.
Were my dreams really messing with me this badly?
I didn’t have an answer to that.
And even if I did, would it matter? I was no closer to solving these issues now than I was whenever this all started. Perhaps it was even worse than I feared? What if this was a repeat occurrence? A cycle? One where I was doomed to suffer through these dreams over and over again just to forget-
No, Daniel. Just take a deep breath, and focus. It was just a bad dream. Nothing more.
My chest tightened, causing my lungs to constrict as I half-coughed-half-wheezed instead of breathing normally. I brought my right hand to my mouth and clenched it into a fist while blindly reaching out towards my nightstand with my left.
It took me a few more painstakingly long moments before I clasped my hand onto my emergency inhaler, placed my lips around the mouthpiece, and pressed down on the canister, allowing its aerosol drug propellant to do its work on my worthless lungs.
Another moment passed, and I collapsed back onto my bed.
It’s been hardly five minutes, and I already feel absolutely done with today.
It was a sentiment that I was almost one hundred percent able to agree with, but something seemed wrong with that. The idea of throwing in the towel so soon made me feel more ill now than during my sudden asthma attack.
And the angel on my shoulder is right. I have a place to myself. I can afford my own meals. I’m in no danger of being evicted, and my folks are fine.
I stared up at the bare white ceiling of my apartment and sighed. The urge to call my parents came to the forefront of my mind and I considered rummaging through my twisted-up bedsheets for my phone before deciding against it. I doubted that they would appreciate me waking them up this early in the morning.
A short bout of sullenness coursed through me in the silence that followed. I missed them. It wasn’t just this dream nonsense that spurred this thought, either. I wanted nothing more than to call in sick and surprise my parents.
But there was never enough time.
The daily grind all but sucked out chunks of my soul with each passing day, and I couldn’t find it in myself to do anything more than just collapse onto my bed in a crumpled heap after each grueling day. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I cooked an honest-to-god meal for myself, let alone do anything else beyond the bare necessities to keep my place somewhat hygienic.
Perhaps this is a wake-up call? Besides, when was the last time I took any time off?
The muffled chime of my phone’s ringtone was a blessing in disguise as I stripped the covers off my body and twisted the blanket. My iPhone landed on top of the white bedsheet cover with a quiet thud, but not before I grimaced at the idea of these spam callers loading my voicemail with pointless junk.
I massaged my temples.
“These assholes seem rather persistent today,” I grumbled. While waiting for the call to end was not as flashy or fun as stonewalling a scammer for hours on end, I didn’t have the mental energy to deal with this bullshit. It also didn’t help that answering calls like these tended to have more like them flood in within a few days, in my experience.
A few more seconds passed, and my phone went silent again.
They left a voicemail this time.
Six taps on the screen and a swipe of my finger left me glaring down at my phone screen.
Fifty.
My jaw clenched.
Fifty fucking voicemails from the same ‘unknown caller,’ and yet I somehow slept through all but two of them?
The idea of somehow sleeping through all of that noise was rather alarming. Sure, my sleep schedule wasn’t interrupted, but even with a whole night's rest, I felt like I had a foot in the grave. But that begged the question: Shouldn’t I have woken up from all that noise, heavy sleeper or not?
My thumb hovered over the last voice message, and I reluctantly pressed the speaker button and allowed the message to play out.
…
…
…
Nothing.
No static, no message about extended car warranties or Nigerian Princes. Just complete silence.
How frustrating-
-Daniel! Daniel!
The voicemail abruptly ended.
…What?
I increased my phone's volume before playing the same message again. Silence, followed by-
-Daniel! Daniel!
The quality was too poor to tell who it belonged to, but it had a cadence that would be befitting of a woman or a child. I had an inkling that I recognized the voice, a nagging in the back of my head, but the truth continued to elude me.
I played two more messages through my phone’s speakers after that.
All three were twenty-three seconds long, with a long silent pause before the voice became barely audible at the twenty-one-second mark. My foot bounced on the hardwood floor. The fourth and fifth were the same.
I scrolled down.
I played back messages seven and eight. Twenty-three seconds.
All of them were twenty-three seconds.
All of them were carbon copies of each other.
All of them mentioned me by name.
I turned to my nightstand, eager to catch sight of my headphones. Empty.
No wallet, house keys, car keys, or headphones.
Even my inhaler is missing. What’s going on?
I spun around.
I was no compulsive hoarder, but I would have been lying if I had said that my modestly sized apartment wasn’t a complete mess. Boxes with old keepsakes and mementos fought savagely against piles of clothes for breathing room inside my closet, posters were slapped over whatever bare spot on the walls I could find, and entire shelves filled with my aged collection of video games and films collected dust next to the fifty-inch tv that I hardly ever used anymore.
That was all gone now.
The sound of my footsteps seemed deafening on the wooden floor as I inspected every last nook and cranny of my room.
Apart from the bed I had slept in and the nightstand that stood next to it, I couldn’t find a single possession I owned. The white walls of the room were barren. There was no mess piled up in my closet. There were no furnishings apart from the bed I slept in and the nightstand that accompanied it.
There was one thing resting on the empty brown wood stand, however.
A solitary, golden photo frame adorned with a tacky flower pattern alongside the edges.
I plucked the photo off the desk and scraped my finger alongside the metal edge of the frame, caking my appendage in a layer of dust that made my eyes water. I sat at the edge of the bed, and my mind went blank.
I don’t recognize these people.
And it wasn’t for lack of trying; my mind was already frazzled by my nightmares, these random voicemails by some stranger who knew my name, and now this.
I had no reason to rip a stock photo of a happy family off Google and place it on my nightstand. Therefore, these people must have meant something to me. So, if that was the case… what was it? Who were they?
There had to be a reason I had a photo of these four strangers on my nightstand instead of a family photo.
The tall, grey-bearded man was the first on the docket. I drank in all of his physical appearances, from the way his olive skin looked oily to touch and his curly grey hair to the cool blue eyes that, upon further inspection, showed the disappointment that his joyful smile tried to mask.
Was it self-loathing? Nihilism? Both?
The woman standing next to him was completely out of his league. While he looked like a drunkard cursed with sobriety, she looked like she was perfect. Unlike his casual grey short shirt and pants, which stretched out over his portly figure, her masterfully hand-crafted navy blue three-piece suit fitted her form perfectly. Her finely combed golden hair flowed behind her, kept healthy with the priciest conditioner and products on the market. The pair of dark-framed Ray-Ban's that hid her deep green eyes was the cherry on top that completed her distinct image.
I scrutinized them for a few more seconds before moving on to the two children in the photo, and my gaze became slightly unfocused as my breathing slowed.
Apart from the boy’s blue eyes, they took from their mother’s side of the family. Sun-kissed yet pale skin, bright smiles, and vibrant eyes sparkled with unadulterated joy as she hugged him close with an arm draped over his shoulder.
I closed my eyes as sounds, smells, and glimpses of warmth flickered through my mind. I couldn’t place my finger on where I remembered these sensations or if I had ever experienced them myself.
My eyes started to prickle with tears.
What was I doing? Was I really feeling nostalgia and projecting over a photo of some strangers I’ve never met or will meet? Enough of this, Daniel. That photo is probably some calling card from the sick fuck that robbed us in our sleep! So get off your ass and call the cops already!
“Okay,” I whispered before rubbing my stinging eyes. It was nearly impossible to keep my panic response under control, but I managed to keep my beating heart at a more steady rate than triple digits.
Regardless, I was still at a loss as to how this happened. Shouldn’t the other tenants have seen something suspicious? It’s one thing to steal valuables like jewelry or cash before slinking into the night, but to take even the things nailed to the floor without making a scene? It was downright impossible.
The worst thing about all of this? I knew it wasn’t a nightmare. Unless I was suffering from some delusional episode, which was becoming increasingly possible with each passing second, all of this was real. The pain and stress I felt were too vivid to be something my mind could conjure up whole cloth, and I had no frame of reference for what having a psychotic break felt like.
Either way, I was utterly powerless. There was no one to help me, and doing nothing but waiting for my situation to change was not an option.
I needed to take action now.
I tossed the blank photo frame off to the side of my bed and snatched at my phone with the full intention of calling the cops, but I quickly ran into a minor issue.
I couldn’t unlock my phone.
Entering my phone’s passcode was something I never needed to think about; it was an automatic function like breathing. But no matter what I tried, the damned thing wouldn’t accept my password.
I didn’t forget the combination.
I know I didn’t- It was so simple! I know my passcode!
I. Know. My. Passcode.
So why can’t you unlock your phone then, genius?
I sat dumbly on the edge of my bed, staring at the four hundred dollar paperweight in my hands. One swipe upwards. Six taps on the screen. Failure.
I tried again.
One swipe upwards. Six taps on the screen. The still image of that rainy day in New York taunted me.
None of this made sense.
Nothing made sense.
One swipe upwards-
Knock Knock
My soul nearly left my body as I tumbled face-first onto the floor, my phone clattering to the ground just a foot ahead of me. I laid still on the hardwood, utterly confused, as I held my breath.
…
Was that just my mind playing tricks on me? Or-
Knock Knock Knock
I shifted my body and turned. The light that always seeped in through the thin crack below the door was gone.
Something in my stomach fluttered as my mind raced, searching for an answer that only led to more questions.
Who was at my door? And for that matter, how did they get into my apartment? What’s going on?
I wanted to call out, but fear gripped me with its icy talons, and I stared at the thin crack below the door like a deer in headlights. It was as if the darkness that engulfed the world outside my room was shifting, its features indecipherable.
I gagged as I all but tasted the stench of pennies and gasoline.
Knock
Knock
Knock
They were-
Knock
What is going on?
Knock
Who is at my door?
Knock
Where? Where am I? What is this place?
VVVRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGG!
BANG
BANG
BANG
The door was shaking. Why was it shaking? Who is at my door?
VVVRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGG!
BANG
Why am I so scared?
BANG
My phone vibrated on the floor behind me.
BANG
Black tar started to ooze from underneath the door.
With shaking hands, I reached out toward it and brought it up to my face. I didn’t bother to check the caller ID.
“...wake up, Daniel! Please!”
“...Sarah?”
The door flew off its hinges.
“Daniel!”
The sudden cold drove the air from my lungs.
I choked.
The last of my precious air escaped in bubbles.
I tried to struggle.
Sleep.
But I was so tired.
My limbs and joints were frozen down to the bone, and I couldn’t move a single muscle in my body.
Go to sleep.
I opened my eyes. Black. I shut them again.
“Daniel!”
Go to sleep, my child.
A dozen bells discordantly chimed in the distance. Beneath the hideous cacophony of clashing sounds, I could hear my struggling heartbeat thu-thumping in my chest. It was becoming quieter with each passing second.
Help! Help me! Please!
I sputtered. A thick, viscous glue shot up my nose as I reflexively inhaled. The taste of pennies and gasoline slathered itself onto my tastebuds. I tried to jerk my head up, but my body was frozen in place.
Be not afraid, my child. This will be naught but a nightmare before long.
I frantically clung to my consciousness as my burning lungs failed to get oxygen.
I don’t want to die!
I fought for air, fought to move my body, fought against the siren call of sleep-
Ringing chimes in my head. Pounding in my lungs. The last vestige of warmth in my freezing heart started to fade. The burning in my lungs grew hotter. Spite, my will to live, my fear of death… none of it was enough to fight back against the heaviness in my limbs and the fading of my conscious mind.
I was going to die. I was going to be nothing more than a sodden, bloated corpse. Would anyone ever know what happened to me? Would they know that I didn’t choose to leave? That I didn’t abandon them?
Heavy, everything was so goddamn heavy. My muscles were too weak and atrophied, like an elderly man on his deathbed.
It was so hard to stay awake.
To stay alive.
Help me-
Something loomed above me in the darkness. I could not see but still felt its presence above my other failing senses.
Thy panic is meaningless; thou will be safe with us forevermore.
More slime rushed down my throat. My lungs had given up, and my mouth reflexively opened. The burning of my lungs turned to that of napalm. Fading, pleading, the banging pains in my head, the ceaseless black.
The burning and the cold were too much.
Something snaked around me. Soft. So soft.
I couldn’t- I just-
I want to go home!
Thou are home, my child.
“Stay away from him, you monster!”
A distorted boom sounded off from somewhere else.
Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop
Weightlessness.
The crushing weight squeezing down on my body had dissipated and transformed as if I were drifting in the vacuum of space.
Am I dead?
Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop
Bile rose from my throat, and I coughed my lungs out. I was burning up from within but trembling from the biting cold on the outside.
Air. Sweet, honest to Christ air. It burned my sore throat as I hacked out copious amounts of slime. Between the bouts of coughing and vomiting, I could breathe in just enough to keep me from placing my other foot into the grave.
And then I opened my eyes.
I was shocked to see the familiar stone walls, ceiling, and identical corridors of the servant's quarters as I regained my senses. I was even more shocked to see that the endless set of doors and sconces were blurring past me fast enough to give me whiplash alongside the constant clinking of hooves on stone ringing in my ears.
Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop
I looked downward and discovered that my weightlessness was real, and I was knifing through the air like a speeding bullet. I was able to move my arms and legs, but there was nothing I could do; I was going too fast to grab onto anything to stop myself.
What’s going on?
Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop
The world swirled and sped by me, and vertigo made me sick again, but I had nothing left to vomit. It was enough, however, to stop me from questioning the new cans of worms that opened up just now.
Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop
How did I get into this mess? What is going on right now? Who is moving me right now? Is this just another one of Luna’s tricks?
Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop Clink-Clop
Am I still dreaming?
Clink-Clop
I came to an abrupt halt.
I was still dangling belly up towards the ceiling, but I could catch a glimpse of a familiar, deep-seated fear bounding down the empty hallways to my left and right.
One by one, the flames on the sconces were blown out, and the encroaching darkness came into full view alongside the gusts of chilling air that scraped against my bare skin. Fear gripped my chest, and the pains and other horrible sensations from the last torture session came flooding back.
A door in front of me opened. I was at too awkward of an angle to look down or behind me-
The world spun again, and I found myself senseless on carpeted flooring. Before I could pull myself together and off the floor, the door slammed shut behind me-
BANG
And I was under siege again.
My hands dug into the carpet, and I pushed myself onto my knees. Like all the other empty rooms in the servants' quarters, a thin layer of dust caked the furniture and fixtures around the sparse, livable bedroom. I coughed again, but this time from my asthma kicking in from the provocation of my dust allergy as I cupped a hand to my mouth.
My indecision in those few seconds hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. There were never any windows in these rooms, and trying to be helpful by barricading the door with one of the heavy cabinets would only hurt more than it helped in my withered state.
The pain I felt was all too real, but it was becoming clear that the line between dreams and the waking world had blurred beyond recognition. What did it matter if I just lied down here and waited for death?
I would simply be shunted off into the next nightmare regardless of what actions I took, with only small moments of reprieve like this to reset me back to a normal state before it all happened again.
But beneath all that pain and suffering, there was still that spark. The one that convinced me to break out of my gilded cage and escape the clutches of an evil god. I could still feel it, even now.
Against the wishes of my battered corpse, I allowed that spark to guide me to my feet. A moment later, I breathed in a strained breath and turned to face the door.
The purple armored pegasus holding the door shut wasn’t relying on the flimsy wood of the bedroom door to keep the monster at bay. A translucent golden barrier engulfed the threshold, and for all of the monster’s strength, it couldn’t bend and break through the magical defenses that held firmly in place.
I stood aloof behind them and tried to resolve the brewing headache stabbing its rusty knives right above my eyelids as I pieced together the enigma that was busy saving my skin. The angular, full-plated purple armor matched the ones I saw gathering dust in the armory, complete with crystal sharp batlike wings. The soldier had their back turned to me, but I could distinctly remember the turquoise crescent moon sigil on these models' chest brace, which led to unfortunate implications.
Even so…
They saved my life. And right now? They were not giving the enemy a single inch of ground. I didn’t know why they were doing this, but a picture started to form as I thought more about the current situation.
Was Luna responsible for the disappearances of the castle staff?
It was something that I didn’t honestly think about up to this point. I had assumed that some other terrible fate befell them instead, and I was dealing with a PTSD-ridden horse goddess with separation anxiety, but that didn’t explain the strange turn of events that I was witnessing.
Why would a supposed loyal soldier of Princess Luna disobey her orders? Were there more of these holdouts camped out elsewhere in this castle? Why would the supposed ruler of a nation try to murder her subjects?
What the fuck happened to these ponies before I got here?
I was able to breathe properly again, and my heart rate slowed down enough to not leap out of my chest at the first sign of danger. With my panic response under control, I could think more clearly.
Remember more clearly.
The details of the nightmare eluded me, along with any of the events between then and now, but I could still recall the crucial bits. Turning my thoughts away from past events to my current situation, I put my mind to work.
I remembered enough about the castle layout to know that I was nearly back to square one: my gilded cage was just a few hallways and a staircase away, with the throne room not too far away from here.
Assuming that I would be able to escape this dead end with my life intact, I planned on retracing my steps past the throne room and back into the guard barracks, with my savior hopefully not backstabbing me beforehand. From there, I would try to find my way to the kitchens before trying one of the other exits. One of those doors had to lead to some sort of ballroom or first-floor area I could escape from.
I shook my head.
I shouldn’t be counting my chickens before they hatch; lord knows what other shit is lurking in the shadows of Luna’s Fun House. As for getting out of this-
I thumbed through the pockets of my sodden clothes and brushed my tar-crusted fingers against a familiar glass bottle. It was a welcome surprise that the bottle of phosphorus and the few matches in my pocket survived the attack.
It was even more welcome when the gears in my head started to turn as I ran my tongue along the ridge of my mouth.
Pennies and gasoline. A bitter aftertaste plagued me even in my dreams and drove me up a wall at every waking moment. It made my throat burn, my lungs scream, and my skin itch in all the wrong ways.
If this substance was anything like the real thing…
I tore off my clothes. I was better off using the threadbare scraps that clung to my skin as kindling at this point. Next, I set the phosphorus bottle alongside the pile of soggy fabrics and the three remaining sulfur head matches on the bedspread before clearing my raw throat.
I turned.
The door still held, and my silent protector still had not moved a single inch. Unsurprisingly, the monster still did not relent. It knew it had us cornered and that it was not a matter of if but when it would breach our defenses.
“I know we’re in a tight spot,” The lingering taste of copper I swallowed made me grimace, but the armored pony was too busy standing in front of the door to notice. “But I have an idea to get us both out of here alive. I just need your help.”
No response.
Another series of powerful blows landed on the barrier, but the golden light held firm.
“I don’t think that thing will tire before it drags us away like the meat out of an oyster,” I continued. “But I know we can make that bastard hurt.”
They remained silent.
I couldn’t tell if they were too concentrated on their efforts, unwilling to listen to a civvie for advice due to having a massive chip on their shoulder, or both. Regardless, I did not like being brushed off like this, especially when my life was on the line too.
“Fire,” I bluntly stated while crossing my arms. “Between the phosphorus, matches, and my torn clothes, we have enough fuel to burn down an entire castle wing. Let's smoke this fucker out and be a vapor trail before it can get any funny ideas.”
No snide remarks. No belittling. No pulling rank. They were as expressive as a brick wall and had as much personality as a slice of white bread.
My lips pinched together as I paced in a small circle. Did they not understand the gravity of this situation? Or were they really this dense?
“I refuse to huddle up and die like a cornered rat!” I gritted my teeth. “It’s an abomination! It will never slow, sleep, or stop until we burn it to cinders! What don’t you understand about this?”
I stomped forward-
-Its head twisted around to face me, and my words died on my lips.
Its eyeless gaze stared back.
The purple armored shell housed no living creature; for all I knew, it was running on preprogrammed commands. It was nothing more than a tool, a creation borne out of magic and alchemy and fashioned after an embodiment of necessity.
But whose?
BANG
My eyes darted between the crescent moon sigil on its chest brace and the empty husk's softly glowing vizor slit.
BANG
The threshold flickered briefly before reverting to its bright golden hue, and the automaton continued its silent vigil.
BANG
I was no longer flinching from the constant noise reverberating across the room. It was all just static to me.
BANG
BANG
My intense, feverish stare burned into the doorway as my fists started shaking. The soreness from my tense muscles only worsened as the liquid nitrogen numbing my veins turned into greek fire.
I breathed in.
…
“No,” My nostrils flared.
I bounded back towards the bed.
My jerky hand movements and the quivering sensation in my muscles made uncorking the bottle unnecessarily tricky. Dipping one of the sulfur head matches into the mixture without spilling it all over my tarred skin was a painful exercise in patience that I never wanted to experience again.
But I persisted.
I’ve come too far to die from carelessness.
I struck the match against the cork stopper and grinned ferociously.
I snatched a bundle of sodden t-shirt fabric in my other, greased hand. There was a pause, and the automaton tilted its head slightly to the right.
“At the count of three, I am lighting this cloth on fire and chucking it towards the door. It will be up to you whether it's open or not when I do.” I spoke in a deceptively calm tone that even fooled me. My heart pounded in my chest again as a spike of adrenaline stabbed itself into my chest. “It’s time we put an end to this madness, wouldn’t you agree?”
“One.”
The automaton remained frozen in place.
“Two.”
The monster continued to exert its aggression and hate on the forcefield.
“Three.”
Strike. The smell of burning paper washed over the stench of pennies and gasoline.
Throw. My outstretched hand released its burning payload and arched towards the door.
Surprise. I stumbled back as the automaton reared back and shot a row of sharp feathers towards the doorway, sending splinters and chunks of black goo in every direction.
Satisfaction. The monster reeled back from the surprise attack, allowing enough space for the flaming yellow projectile to funnel through the doorway and into the hallway proper. No screech accompanied the flames that engulfed the beast, but its twisted, alien body language spoke volumes.
It could bleed. Therefore, it could die.
It’s time for some payback, motherfucker.
I grabbed another bundle of fabrics in my right hand and sprinted out of the doorway. The clomping of ironshod hooves accompanied me as we pressed the attack. We were surrounded on two fronts; darkness clung to life just out of reach of the flames that licked at the walls and excised monster flesh splattered onto it.
A sudden spark. I jerked my head to the side.
“Clever tin can,” I muttered as the robot pegasus clutched the remanding bundle of fabrics, the bottle of phosphorous, and two sulfur matches in its magic.
Our counterattack continued. For every flame blown out, two more would claim its pound of flesh.
Translucent walls of gold shattered against shifting tendons. Razor sharp wings sliced apart ebony tendrils. Black tar spilled onto the floor and seeped into every crevice in the cracked floors and walls to escape the flames.
It was too little, too late.
Plumes of smoke whisked off clumps of soot in every which direction, and my lungs were burning again.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing did in the heat of that moment. Not my poor throwing technique, my dust allergies, or the instinctive fear of the flames that cleansed the hallway of the evil lurking within the shadows. No, only one thing was on my mind as I taxed my flexing muscles to their limits:
Revenge.
All the pain, fear, and tears cumulated into this singular moment, and I’d be damned if I let it go to waste.
Ignite. Wind up. Throw.
Tar. Fire. Soot.
The darkness reeled back.
I inched forward.
A sudden vision of black flew through the flames, paying no heed to the fire that danced around us. An arrow of gold light speared through the dry air.
It was too late.
Pain erupted in my chest, and my match was wrenched from my hands as I collapsed to the frigid stone floor.
I was down for the count.
But it didn’t stop.
The automaton was still defying all odds.
Keeping track of its movements through all the smoke was a challenge in itself; the damn thing was little more than a deep violet blur—a purple murder blender. One swipe from its sharpened bat-like wings was enough to cut down half a dozen squirming tentacles. Any attempt at retaliation was met with either an empty dust cloud or a well-timed magic barrier, followed by a savage counterattack.
More flames poured down all around me, sowing great streaks of black ash into the already cramped hallway. A dome of gold shielded me from the burning embers and squirming tendrils before the latter were cut down to size.
My adrenaline ebbed away with each cough of blood from my throat as I tried to regain my senses. The unwelcome feeling of hypersensitivity and a rock-hard stomach reared its ugly head once again, but I still held greedily onto the spark of hope inside me. Despite the pain, nothing felt broken.
With the monster's attention focused entirely on my ally, I tore my eyes away from the spectacle. I hurriedly scanned the hall for anything I could use—another bundle of cloth, a match, anything I could use to help even the odds.
My pickings were slim at best.
Any remaining clumps of cloth that we didn't use as ammo were scattered haphazardly around the room, and I was more liable to burn myself than the beast if I tried to use them. With that in mind, I considered trying to wrench a sconce from the wall and lighting it with one of the many fires still burning around me.
That was until I noticed a glint from the corner of my eye.
The abundance of soot clinging to the smoke-filled air overwhelmed my lungs as I crawled toward the glass bottle, praying to Christ himself that I would be beyond the monster’s notice.
An inch. Two. Three.
Droplets of blood seeped from my trembling lips. I grunted, skirting past the puddles of tar and piles of soot as I closed the gap. Hand trembling, I reached out-
Cold.
My left leg numbed.
I screamed.
All it took was a touch. In the chaos and terror, my vision had tunneled to the singular objective in my mind. I should have known that the monster had more tricks up its sleeve- that pieces of it would have feigned death and waited for the proper moment to strike.
And it did.
The tendril’s death grip on my leg mirrored my own with the glass bottle as I was slowly dragged away towards the end of the hall.
The cold began to seep into the pores in my leg’s skin, and not even my newfound sense of bravado could fight against the biological shortcomings of the body or the foul magics that tampered with it. I could only scream myself hoarse.
A trick of the light. I angled my head upwards.
Kroom!
My limb prickled with irritation. A few moments later, sensation rushed back into the frozen nerves as the automaton stood above me, wreathed in a golden aura with legs spaced out.
My lungs screamed a warning before my mind could unfreeze. Dozens of barbed spears crashed against the translucent barrier surrounding us.
SMASH SMASH SMASH
Again and again.
The discordant orgy of relentless violence caused my now deafened ears to ring with thunder.
SMASH SMASH SMASH
A pang of fear gripped my chest as I noticed it straining exhaustedly from the onslaught.
Head down, shaking legs braced. So human-like.
I began to wheeze.
Darkness. The smattering of javelins and spears gave way to oozing mass.
The air around us felt thick, like honey.
Did any of this even matter?
My eyes burned as I white-knuckled the bottle in my hands.
Was this some divine, Sisyphean punishment for a crime I couldn’t remember doing? How many times did I end up in a scenario just like this? How many times would I be pursued and cornered within these halls? How many times did I suffer a fate such as this? Stripped bare of everything that made me who I was?
…
It would be so easy—just a single gulp. That’s all it would take.
…
But it isn’t that easy, is it? There is no coward's way out. Not while I’m trapped as Luna’s precious little plaything.
…
Not fast enough. Not clever enough. Not strong enough. I can’t ever do anything right, no matter how hard I try. I always end up short.
I uncorked the bottle. An image flashed in the back of my mind. It was gone within a microsecond, but the pungent odor that wafted to my nostrils was more than enough to jog my fading memory.
“I hate garlic,” I said, tipping the bottle towards my lips.
An iron-shod hoof pressed down upon my chest, which broke me out of my spell. I stared incredulously into the purple faceplate of my protector.
Many things were slipping my mind, but if there was one banal fact that remained glued to my prefrontal cortex, it was about how we humanized everything. Animals, robots, appliances… nothing was safe from our favorite past time of projecting thoughts and feelings onto things explicitly not human.
I wanted to believe this wasn’t just some protocol or another one of Luna’s tricks.
I wanted to believe that someone cared.
Warmth enveloped my hand, and my grip slackened.
The bottle floated gently away from me, and I could only stare as the automaton loosened its faceplate, allowing me to see the ‘magic behind the curtain.’ Runes, pictograms, and patterns were carefully etched and spaced inside the interior framework, and they were utterly unrecognizable to me.
All except one.
The embroidered image of the glowing sun was the focal point of the arcane craftsmanship. Despite feeling like it was a lifetime ago, I winced in almost physical discomfort as the memory of the throne room flashed before my eyes.
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.
Before I could act upon the apprehension worming its way out of my hardened stomach, the automaton performed its best impression of a relapsing alcoholic as it ‘guzzled’ the liquid phosphorus.
Everything after that was a blur.
The barrier fell.
I cast around wildly.
A blanket of golden, soothing warmth enveloped me.
The darkness surged.
The first spear pierced the wing, pinning the twitching limb to the automaton’s barrel. The next four slammed into the backplate. Another punctured directly through the crest and jutted out through the neck in a macabre display.
I blinked.
Like flies buzzing over a festering corpse, the shadows swarmed over them.
I retched; the scent of gasoline was fighting for control from the garlic that scratched at the skin in my nose and throat.
Burning.
My insides were burning.
Sweat rolled down from my forehead and into my stinging eyes.
And then I saw fire.
A dreamless sleep.
A skull-crushing headache.
A muffled groan.
My eyes fluttered open.
Ashen grey, with sprinkles of black. I held a hand to my forehead and slumped forward as I greedily drank down the droplets of saliva that started to form in my dried mouth. I sat there for a few minutes, catching my breath between the bouts of wheezing while allowing the tension to roll off my weak muscles.
This…
I didn’t have words for the conflicting emotions competing for the podium finish.
And it wasn’t for lack of trying. Time had little meaning within these stone walls, and even then, I still tried to keep that spark of hope within me alive. I didn’t want to think of this as just another pyrrhic victory.
So I didn’t.
I accepted that things were still out of my control, but I didn’t let that fear control me. Instead, I closed my eyes, locked my hands together, crossed my legs, and kept my breathing slow and even. My heartbeat slowed to a relaxed pace, and I felt my hardened stomach loosen up. It wasn’t enough to offset the pains in my joints and the back of my spine or the mother of all migraines that was busy skullfucking me through my eye socket, but I was safe.
“Everything will be ok,” I whispered.
And for once, I believed myself.
I stood up.
The unnatural evil that had darkened these halls was gone, replaced by the natural blue and silver hues that had illuminated them initially. Granted, there were still shadows clinging to life in whatever nook and cranny they could hide away in, but they were few and far between.
Such a sight had seemed almost unthinkable just a short while ago, let alone possible. But it was.
And it was beautiful.
I drank it all in for a moment and basked in the ashes that danced in the moonlight. I knew Luna was undoubtedly seething at my brazen challenge to her authority, but I didn’t care.
Instead, I brushed my feet through the piles of soot in front of me, and the dust flowed between my toes like grains of sand. A few moments later, I saw a glint of violet shine from underneath the ash.
“...Thank you,” I bowed my head.
Silence.
…
In my mind’s eye, I rubbed my fingers alongside a pristine half dollar.
I placed my thumb under the fifty-cent piece and flicked.
Kennedy’s frown stared back.
I turned left.
Empty hallways. Empty Rooms.
No traces of life anywhere.
I looked around, trying to note anything that could be useful or used as a landmark as I carefully retread familiar ground. Apart from the makeshift toga I fashioned for myself from bedsheets, there didn’t seem to be anything immediately dangerous nearby; no sudden movements out of the corner of my eye or irate alicorns hot on my heels.
My chest still felt sore from the monster’s attack, but nothing felt cracked or broken, and my other issues notwithstanding, I was still conscious.
No, I was as able-bodied as possible, given the scenario, and I was thankful for that.
Aside from my cuts and bruises, of course.
With that in mind, I kept a modicum of discretion as I sleuthed down more empty corridors, obnoxiously thin hallways, and a flight of stairs with only the pale ambient light of the castle to guide me.
Keeping to the shadows, I pressed close to the wall on my right as I rounded another corner-
The sudden stillness in the air tugged at my attention as I scrambled back.
Carnage.
That was the first word that came to mind as I poked my head out from the edge of the niche I was crouching behind.
Severed armored limbs, perforated metal sheets, pulverized helmets… all were strewn about in front of a familiar pair of massive, solid doors of gold.
No. This has to be- This can’t be right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right!
My mind buzzed.
It was happening again. Just when I thought I was near the finish line, Luna would change the goalposts. It didn’t matter how many times I survived the constant monster attacks or escaped her clutches; there was always something else to chase after me. Another obstacle to sap at my dwindled reserves of stamina and sanity.
It was the same damn scene over and over again. A fucking circle.
Just one of these was enough to fight the monster to a standstill! With this many, they should have carved it like a thanksgiving turkey! What happened?
With trepidation, I lightly tiptoed toward the crime scene.
Unlike before, there wasn’t any sign of inflicted enemy casualties. No greasy tar stains stained every possible surface. No malodorous gasoline smell scratched at the insides of my nose and throat.
I bent down and heaved as I picked up a rent violet breastplate. Even in its current condition, its weight was deceptively heavy for its size. Upon closer inspection, I nearly balked at how thick the armor was: at least three times as much as medieval-plate armor. With how dense it felt, I could easily assume that this wasn’t forged from subpar steel.
Between that and whatever spells the etched runes carved into the inside of it provided, the required force needed to cut down not only just one of these robots but scores-
“-tire of your games, sister!”
Crunch
The bits and pieces of armor on the floor sprang up into the air, and I almost doubled over on the floor.
…
What the fuck was that?
I cast my weary eyes onto the throne doors.
“Thou shall not take him away from us! This we swear!”
The castle foundations began to shake.
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This is a welcome surprise!
Oh oh
D'aww, Celestia to the rescue!
Hmmm. Are we about to see sunbutt in person? In pony? Or is she using another construct to fight Princess Edgelord? Only time will tell. Hopefully a short amount of time, right Darthball? Right?
Holy hell. Come on Celly!
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:)
Is there a better source for the story cover art? I love it
Interesting horror story concept. Horror is my main thing which is why I struggle so hard to write horse words. First, there are no hard and fast rules to writing. Once you say, something is "A" and "A" only works when done "this way" and never works when done "that way," an Author will publish a masterpiece proving you wrong. But, this story is the type of story that works best as a short story. Reason being that its a constant tension type of story and its hard to maintain constant tension as the chapters continue. Longer horror stories tend work in bursts of tension followed by lighter moments, to allow the readers to relax between tense scenarios. The mind needs those breaks between stresses. Im curious which way the Author is going to take this. Shorter or longer?
So Im looking forward to seeing just where this, surprisingly good Author is going to take us.
Monk
(On being born) "Isn't it interesting that the very first act we all do, is a crime so heinous that it comes with a death sentence." -RikitheMonk
Hell yeah! New chapter!
I don't want to believe that Luna is being a monster here but uh things aren't looking so great for her. I hope she's not as terrible as the protagonist makes it seem! He seems to me like an unreliable narrator - his visceral paranoia and fear strike me as someone who assumes the worst pretty often. I love that I don't know what to believe!
I was pretty confused by the sharp change from last chapter to this one, though. The increase in pace was welcome and I'm fine with getting the rug pulled out from under me once or twice, but if this is a story that does it over and over until it ends then I'm gonna be disappointed. Still, I'm enjoying it so far!
Keep up the good work!
hmmm this chapter is why you don't take drugs, medicine, and alcohol all at once. I'm intrigued but completely lost lol. I'm pretty sure reading this was actually detrimental to my health as now I have a headache.
Great story which really invites to think about what's happening.
At the beginning of the chapter I was sure that this is about Alzheimer but know it seems more like a Nighmare vs Luna Kind of story, really looking forward how this develops
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Thank you for your kind words!
This is something I know about. Trust me, if you string them along and tick them off enough, they eventually stop calling. You just have to waste their time enough to get them to give up.
I think I'm beginning to understand what's going on here.
So, at this point a few things are sticking out to me, the first being how he knew that Luna is an alicorn, or where he got the notion that she's a goddess.
It's possible she introduced herself as such, but the fact it wasn't mentioned, and the fact that Daniel knows more than he should given the apparent time-period of this story points to the obvious memory manipulation as the culprit. Whether said manipulation was by Luna or by another entity remains to be seen, but given the context of what I think is going on, I believe Luna is genuinely trying to help, and the other unknown entity represents death.
Okay, so I got to the end of the chapter. I was right on a few things, but who and what each character represents is different than what I thought.
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I think it might be celestias or lunas nightmare counterpart from what i pieced together. And there is a kind of "source code" movie thing happening
This is so good! I am loving the genuine horror theming going on here. I don't know if thats what your going for, but you are NAILING it!
This mystery is killing me
Wow, that's Amnesia for sure.