• Published 20th Oct 2012
  • 7,635 Views, 54 Comments

Body of Work - Greytercakes



Twilight finds her own body in a creaky, wooden basement.

  • ...
8
 54
 7,635

~~~

Body of Work ~ The Grey Potter (Google Docs)

The Libraries of Canterlot are extensive, ancient, and sprawling. There are parts that are cut and carved. Parts made of plaster and wood. Parts cobbled together from dark, uneven stone. Each material gives each wing its own air. The wooden section is the newest, and it gives off a very distinctive varnish scent. The black stone makes the air cold and crisp. And the most common library, the white stone, it has an almost metallic heat. I can walk into any wing and tell anypony exactly what it contains, just by the smell of the stone. By the breath of the paper, new, or old.

But this wing was something I had never seen before.

In the back of the white marble archives, behind a rusted door, paint peeling and centipedes crawling under the frame, there is a set of stairs. They buckle like cork, creaking as if they could snap at any second. Dust motes speckle the air, wicking away the moisture in my mouth. The brackets for torches are empty, yet coated in pitch and grease long solidified black.

The floor here is a crisscrossing web of dry planks, constantly groaning and snapping under the weight of its contents. Ceiling low, many thick volumes are neatly stacked on a few bowing shelves. Spider webs and dust coat many of these unmarked books. And yet, almost a quarter of them seem recently disturbed. Lying on tables, flipped open, notes in code scattered everywhere. Pages sometimes spill on the floor, pulling the eyes towards dark stains and deep scratches. I once looked closely, and the welts in the wood form a pattern, slowly winding, slowly collecting into a single, focused area.

I’ve never once seen a single librarian down in this crypt. Never heard a breath or a whisper. Never seen a single soul coming nor going. I don’t know who placed these books, carved these spells, scattered these notes. In all my times visiting, they have never moved. Yet they remain pristine and free of dust, ready for the reader to return.

There’s only one thing has changed in this tomb.

I hover my lantern over the form, the body I have come to know these past few months. A corpse placed in the center of circling scrawls. A unicorn mare, plump and pristine, untouched by decay. Always on her side. Her mane matted, flowing beside her, sticking to the gashes in the ground. I’ve often conjured a light breeze, just to brush them away, only to see them reattach in later visits. Her legs move, expression changes. Never in front of me, always when I’m gone. Sometimes peaceful. Sometimes not. Sometimes, I think she’s reacting to my own mood as I approach her. But I could just be projecting. It’s obvious why I would.

Our faces, our bodies, our cutie marks are the same.

So why not our moods?

It’s strange… Who is she? Why is she here? I hope someday to find myself awake. Maybe I’ll find it in me to ask her these questions.

But of all the nights I stay up, frozen in bed, unable to sleep or think…

I cannot think of a single thing I’d be able to say to her.

~∞~

I scrape the bit of red paint into a beaker. I will be able to date it, and maybe even see what it’s made of. Later. After I have gone down there and confronted myself again, I will do tests.

I will map out exactly where each book, each page, and each scratch is if I have to. I will note every placement of the chair and table. I will use this work to see if anything changes each time I go down there. I will keep myself busy to get myself used to this room. I will use this time to watch my body for movement, and wait for its creator.

With that settled, I go forward to open the door.

Centipedes squirm away from the cracks. I notice that spiders have already woven a blanket across the back of the doorframe. They crackle slightly as I heave the door open once more. I try to ignore the buckling steps. The way the light get sucked away as the door swings shut behind me. The floor is uneven, the doorframe is tilted back slightly. It’s just gravity, it’s nothing to be afraid of. I just make my way down, lantern held in my aura, bobbing gently.

There the room is. Same as it is. And there’s my body… The same, just as unnerving as usual. She’s on her back now. Legs in the air. Jaws clenched, gums glistening. Neck arched, horn digging a hole in the floor...

I step towards her. There’s cataloguing. Experiments to be done. But I walk to her, and pull out my blanket. With a flick of my aura, I throw the heavy quilt over her. It catches on her back leg, jutting stiff, straight into the air. It all hangs from there, making her body a series of unusual ridges.

Compassion. She’s cold, and she needs compassion. Compassion and a blanket.

I tug the corners over her scowl. Magically tucking away her mane.

There.

Nice and toasty.

I step away, and her voice howls up through the boards. No, that’s just the normal creaking. Get a hold of yourself. There’s books. Books, papers and chairs to be catalogued.

I set my lantern down on one of the tables, illuminating a blank book. A scrawled page or two beside it. I place pins in the wood, pushing little thumbtacks at each corner. They sink in easily. As if the table was made of corkboard. If the books move, I’ll know by the positions of the pins. I eye the book as my aura passes over it. The pages glistened in the light. Reflected. Invisible ink, probably. Probably a trick to seeing the words. Hold a light behind it, expose it to the right chemical compounds. Cast a spell to make the words appear.

I lift a page in my aura, eyeing it. Maybe I could bring down some charcoal and do a rub, see if it was handwritten. The pages are certainly spaced far enough apart, tattered and bloated with a broken spine. As if they had been written—

There was a clatter. The tiniest sound, like a pebble falling. My eyes immediately snapped up to my body. Did it drop? Move? Adjust?

No, it was still sticking straight up. Leg making a tent over my body… Not even a hair out of place.

The sound came again. Small. Almost imperceptible. Just a littlest, fainted of tapping. The rolling of a lost coin, or…

A lost pin.

I saw as one of my little thumbtacks toppled over. It rolled and spun sideways until it dropped off the table, tapping out of sight.

Oh, I must have shifted the book a little. It must have knocked the little thing out. I had thought that the pins had gone in so easily. But, glancing over at the pages of notes, the little tops were high in the air, tilting under their own weight. Bound to fall at any second, really. Sometimes, it’s just a little hard to feel pressure through an aura.

I pushed my nail into each thumbtack, shifting my weight as they sunk slowly deeper and deeper into the wood. One of the pages got caught under the pressure, and lifted slightly as the needle dug itself deep into the table.

There we are. They should stay now. Now about the fallen needle...

I duck under the table, using my horn to sweep the area with light. I don’t want to be surprised one day, suddenly stepping on a thumbtack down here. I might knock something over, upset my studies. I might also… I glance at the rigid body, wondering if the shout of the pony would awaken her. Did I have the courage to try that experiment? I opened my mouth, feeling the spit smack as my lips parted—

There it was again.

That rolling sound. Two of them, no three.

I scoot backwards, trying to not hit my head as I rush to my feet. I drop my hooves on the table, and the whole thing shakes. The rest of the pins jiggle loose, rolling and clattering away…

Leaving little black lines, black splatters in their wake.

I stare at the pinholes. From each one. A little bubble of black liquid. Broken. Spilling everywhere. Especially from that corner of one page, the one I pinned down. It had spread. Not while I was looking. But it had spread. Soaked into each page, covering them in black stains. Curling them, bulging them slightly as it dried unevenly.

A—

A security… spell? Perhaps? It… that’s what it must be. That must have been what happened. Something to protect the documents…

I snatch my own book from the mass. Black liquid drips off the back. Stained. Permanently stained.

Well.

Well, I think that’s all I’m going to do today. Need a different tact. Don’t mind the pun, I need a different approach.

I’ll just be going now.

I grab my lantern. With one last glance at my body, I rush up towards the door, feeling each board sink under my steps.

Testing later, I should have known the door’s paint would have a lot of iron in it. Iron is what makes the red coloring. Red and rusty. Distilled iron. It’s not blood. It just has a lot of iron in it. Blood would rot, make it brown. Make it smell. It’s red for the iron. Not for blood.

The ooze that came from the table?

It dried. It was just ink.

Definitely. Just a security spell. Nothing to worry about.

~∞~

I stand back in front of that door, and I listen to myself breathe.

My jaw is set, and my feet are firmly planted. There is nothing down there that I should be afraid of. There is nothing down there that is obviously there to hurt me. I may have worked myself into a bit of a tizzy, and that body is certainly something strange. But I am going to find out why it’s there. I am going to find out who made it. I am going to approach this like the scientist I am. I am going to be cold, calculating and shrewd.

This is what I tell myself.

And this is why I am currently opening the door.

I fail to open the door. Not that it was welded shut all of a sudden. I just… don’t work up the nerve to open it.

Stop being afraid.

Stop being afraid.

Okay.

Let’s go.

I do wish the steps would stop squealing at me.

Somehow, I make it down to that room. The blanket is… Gone. Just gone. My body’s on its side now, curling up tightly, and the blanket’s gone. I move the lantern around a little bit, try and see if it fluttered off into a corner or something. But it’s just not there. Something… somepony must have taken it. Proof of some malevolent mastermind, of course.

I dwell over this doppelganger corpse, hoping, maybe this time, I’ll catch her breathing. I’ll see a movement, the littlest twitch. But she’s still, frozen as stone. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before.

For the longest time, I can’t bend my knees. I want to wait by her side. Maybe see if her creator will come down to see her. Maybe see, at a certain hour, if the runes themselves will pull at her. There’s a method to this. There has to be. Always will be. I should sit, relax and wait.

The lantern flickers. Her contorted gums glimmer. Wet with spit. Alive. Supposedly…

There’s a creaking behind me, just the books settling. Heavy on this corklike floor. I should sit. I’ll be here a long time. A very long time.

I lift one hoof, and the ground yowls in protest. I kneel, and it cries again. I’m used to that. It’s not about to break. I can hear my weight splitting it, buckling under my stomach. But it’s not about to break. I’ve come here so many times. It would never break.

My lantern clunks beside me. No groaning there. But when my aura dies, the shadows multiply. The lantern isn’t bright enough. Just a little speck of orange, casting and multiplying shadows, glinting off cracks and cuts, wet with—

My horn flares.

I brought a book. I brought a book with me, and I set it in front of me. In the space between myself, and my body. I can glance up from the pages at any moment, check on every movement. And if I need more light, well, I have a light spell.

My aura dies—

I cast the light spell. A nice, bobbing purple light. Like a little fairy. It hummed as well! It’s pleasant. And warm. Now then. The pages glow and flutter. I flit past my bookmark and giggle quietly. Turn back the pages, miss the bookmark again. Well, it’s a nice sound at least. Pages rustling… Silly! I missed it again! Here. I manually turn each page with my hoof. I settle on my bookmark.

My aura dies—

I fiddle with the corner of the book. Thumbing the pages. Making them rustle.

I’ll just wait here and read.

But.

The marks, the scratches on the floor. I didn’t notice before, but they pinch. Just a little. I adjust myself, settle back down. That’s better. I turn back to the page, scanning a few lines.

More than three thousand died in the three or four weeks before the cholera outbreak was contained. A stallion would be staggering along the road, and then he’d sit, and while the cameras rolled, he would crumple up, tip over, and be gone. And not just the men, but women and little foals—

The scratches were pinching again. I adjusted, tilting to one side. What an uncomfortable floor. I should have brought a pillow…

And not just the men, but women and little foals. Simply because they’d had a sip of water in which somepony had urinated, or defecated, or dumped a body—

I shoot up to my hooves, and cry out. Needles! There were needles in my belly! I rubbed a hoof up and down my stomach, creaking and crashing backwards. The light spell sputtered and vanished, and silence pressed into my eyes, my ears.

Just my ragged breathing now, my blood whirring inside my head. Calm down, calm down… I close my eyes tight, and I can see the stain of the lantern in each one, hovering bright orange light two little eyeballs. Calm down, calm down…

I open my eyes, floorboards shifting under my weight. The book’s still there. The lanterns still there. The scratches still—

Coated in little short hairs. Little short hairs sticking up from each crack, each scratch in the floor.

“I’m going to get another blanket.”

My own voice almost rings louder than the silence. Offensive. Offensive and loud, how dare I even speak in this place. The lantern gutters and I swear I see my body, the body on the floor twitch. No, it hasn’t moved, it hasn’t moved. Get a grip.

“I don’t think I can stay here, ahahaha!”

Another offensive desecration! Stop! Stop, you silly pony, stop saying words!

I grab the book. Slam it against my chest. I grab the lantern. Yanking it sideways as the handle squeals.

It goes out.

My aura dies—

There’s a tittering laugh. A jabbing sensation in my forehead, my own horn sparking and sputtering as ten light spells burst around me. Swollen and large. Too large. Too much magic, you silly pony, too much. Stop laughing, you silly pony. Stop overexerting yourself over nothing. Just breathe. Just calm down. There is nothing, logically, that you should be afraid of here. And look. Your lights expose the whole room. Just dusty bookshelves and your own corpse in a magic circle. A corpse you’ve never seen move, and may as well be a big, fat doll.

Nothing at all to be afraid of.

But knowing myself I can’t stay here so I’m going to go now.

The steps buckle and squeal all the way up to the rusted door.

~∞~

I think I understand something now.

I look at my body, exhausted and rolled on its side.

I’m not afraid of it.

I thought, you know.

Your own body. Dead in front of you. That’s terrifying.

Isn’t it?

But it’s not. It’s not what’s scaring me.

It’s this space. This location. This dark basement creaking and moaning and groaning all around me.

It’s a spell.

It’s a spell, trying to keep me away from myself. Trying to keep me away from my body in front of me.

Why?

Because of what I, or anybody else, might do to it.

It’s trying to protect it. And at the same time, trying to hurt it.

This dark, malevolent force. Hurting the poor thing. Making sure nobody ever tries to take it away. Nobody ever tries to understand it. Especially not somebody like me.

Especially not somebody smart like me.

Well.

Well.

I’m not afraid.

I brought it a sandwich. Daffodils on white. My favorite.

I brought it another blanket. In case it gets cold.

And I brought myself back down to his horrible place.

And I—

I scream, a pain shooting up my foot. Sharp jabbing I scream again too loud for how little pain it is because it’s just that stupid thumbtack!

“Ahahahaha! Just the thumbtack, oh how did it get there?”

My talking is an offensive, but let the room be offended! I yank the thumbtack out of my foot, and there’s a little spurt of blood. It splatters across the scratches in the floor, making them wet. Reflective. Alive.

No, not alive! It’s just the spell! It’s just the spell trying to drive me away!

I slam my hoof on the ground, feeling the jagged wood jab into my wound. No! It will not drive me away from myself any longer!

I set everything down. The lantern. The blanket. The food to share with myself.

I set it down.

I step into the circle

And I reached my bloodied hoof out to touch my corpse’s contorted face.

Comments ( 54 )

Woah, I'll admit, I'm slightly confused, but I love the effort that's gone into describing it all.

Not quite done yet, but... holy shit, this is interesting.

Woah... that is all.

So... I don't get it! Very good, though. My dad was watching a mystery show with mysterious music, matched the theme in this story perfectly!

Ahhhh! Wow, so awesome. So suspense-filled. I'm just waiting for something to happen. At the edge of my seat (if I was sitting and not lying down) but Whoa, nice one. I really like this :twilightsmile:

Ok. I'm scared now. Thanks. Seriously, good job.

Now THAT was a creepy story!
:moustache::moustache::moustache::moustache::moustache:

I'll admit I have little love for horror stories that provide a bizarre situation but leave so much unexplained that one can only hypothesize as to what the whole deal was. But whatever was going on, this fic definitely provided the creeps and chills I was looking for.

Awe... I want to know what happens next!

Wow. Impressively creepy! You end up coming up with ideas about what's really going on here, and none of them are nice or good or comforting ones.

Well uh, I'm a little confused by the ending actually. :twilightblush:

Sometimes the unknown is far scarier than anything you could write down.

RBDash47
Site Blogger

"I pushed my nail into each thumbtack"
This should be "push", and I'm not clear on "nail" - I can't find any reference to hoof anatomy that involves the word nail.

"Need a different tact."
I think you meant "tack", not "tact".

I wish the summary hadn't told me from the beginning that it was her own body. That would have been a nice little reveal to warm things up.

But, overall, quite creepy. I really need to stop reading all these one after another...

w... wh... wha... whaaaaa? :pinkiecrazy:

All that awesome build-up! Great writing, except for a few minor grammatical mistakes! And then? NOTHING! Giant cliff-hanger! GRARRRRGHHH. That's aggravating. :twilightangry2: Very creepy, though, so good job. :twilightoops: :twilightsmile:

1511945
1508206
Honestly... I didn't want to write "the thing that happens next" :twilightblush:
The story was about that creaky library, and the fear of being in a spooky place all alone. To ignore it, and press forward to focus on the body, meant that there would have to be a tremendous shift on what's primarily scary about the piece.
Plus, to spend that much time/words in the build up, I'd have to spend equal or more time/words on some kind of logical payoff. And to be honest, I didn't want to do that. I had a creepout piece that I was proud of. I'd rather leave it hanging on the "cut to black" then ruin it with a conclusive, but possibly more weak ending.

That said, maybe when the contest is over, I'll write some kind of "return," or a few follow-up chapters... I feel like there's a lot of potential to the setting, and a number of different things that could be explored within its corklike confines.

1512137
Oh, I understand why cutting off there was a good idea. Leave it to the reader's imagination, keep it creepy, all that. That doesn't make it any less aggravating! Heh. Still, a nice story. It didn't feel like an implied death to me, though, and still doesn't, but perhaps I'm just not properly getting it. All I saw was it cut off. *shrugs*

1512219
Oh, I don't really know if she's dead, dead either.... :pinkiecrazy: But if the story doesn't continue, might she as well be? :trollestia:

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

Was going to post responses on EQD, but since this is on fimfic, I may as well post it here!

Oh yes, this is the one which I said sounded most interesting from the description. The writing grabs me pretty much from the get-go; you're crafting excellent mood with good imagery. The main issue with the writing I'm seeing are choppy fragments that don't add anything to the flow or voice. But you've captured Twilight so well with this. Her ever-efficient scientific mind is helping her cope with the claustrophobic surrealism, the close brush with her own... Well, not mortality, really. But something. My word, this is really tense! But dammit, it seems like you just stopped at the end. There's lots of mood here, yes, and lots of mystery, but to no purpose. Still, I really enjoyed this, I think the horror is effective, just please, finish it! Bring this to some sort of conclusion!

1512794
Repost! :pinkiecrazy:

Honestly... I didn't want to write "the thing that happens next" :twilightblush:
The story was about that creaky library, and the fear of being in a spooky place all alone. To ignore it, and press forward to focus on the body, meant that there would have to be a tremendous shift on what's primarily scary about the piece.
Plus, to spend that much time/words in the build up, I'd have to spend equal or more time/words on some kind of logical payoff. And to be honest, I didn't want to do that. I had a creepout piece that I was proud of. I'd rather leave it hanging on the "cut to black" than ruin it with a conclusive, but possibly more weak ending.
That said, maybe when the contest is over, I'll write some kind of "return," or a few follow-up chapters... I feel like there's a lot of potential to the setting, and a number of different things that could be explored within its corklike confines.

Ooh, though there is something else I want to add:
Regular readers of my works know that I'm still getting the hang of ending things properly... :pinkiecrazy:

This was the second story of the 10 I picked out based on the descriptions but to be honest, I was a little disappointed... The premise really intrigues me but as a couple people mentioned, the writing style was a little choppy and kind of bugged me. And the end... I triple checked to make sure that was actually THE END, because it felt like you cut it off in midsentence or something. I hope I'm not coming off too harsh especially since you already said endings are something you need to work on. The other criticism I would have is even though you were very descriptive, which worked really well for this in setting the creepy setting, I found some of it little hard to follow as I read and some of the word choices didn't work really well, like the aforementioned "nail" thing. That's all coming from someone who's a little of a grammar nazi, and all my criticisms are based on your writing, but you did EXCELLENT as far as your premise, the mood, and an original idea. I hope you keep writing and getting better!

From my series of EQD comments ranking my top six favorite of the contest submissions:
"1) Body of Work. One thing I can't help but highlight amidst every awesome thing about this story is the premise. The likes of demons, vampires, and cannibals are fundamentally simple ideas elevated by the means by which their authors execute them. But in addition to being the most well-told out of all these horror stories, the central concept of finding your own dead body that's mysteriously changed its position each time you return to it inside a hidden room containing some unknown dark force that's working against you in ever-more determined ways... it really deserves an applause for the author all on its own. And from there, the story only builds on this great idea, with a meticulously crafted atmosphere that grabs the reader and steadily squeezes tighter as the story goes on. I absolutely adore Twilight's characterization throughout it all, especially in how it so effortlessly justifies her returning to the room again and again of her own volition rather than having landed herself in a situation that she can't escape (which makes the story even more amazingly unique). It's believable in terms of her character while at the same time dealing with it in a complex and nuanced way and placing her in a position that, while not utterly without precedent ("Feeling Pinkie Keen" comes to mind), is unlike anything I've read in any other MLP fic or is likely to be explored by any future episodes. This is perhaps best exemplified by her relationship with her body, particularly in the second instance where her feelings toward it are established (maternally covering it with a blanket); since I'm on a roll concerning touching moments in these stories, this one takes the #3 slot, and I must once again iterate the importance of moments like these to provide impactful juxtaposition and give such horror stories proper context within the notoriously optimistic nature of MLP's setting. (For this same reason, I also appreciated the small injection of humor about halfway through where she uses a pun to distract herself from her mounting fear.) And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the story is easily the scariest of all the submissions. It's obvious, reading it, that the author has a great control over and awareness of prose and its strengths and weaknesses as a medium. Because prose has honestly never been good at being scary in the way that we think of horror films as scary, since when we watch horror films we're fearfully anticipating the moment where something jumps out at us and gets us to scream aloud. By contrast, no one's ever screamed and thrown a horror novel across a room without having turned a page to find that there's a spider living in it. Where prose excels, however, is its capacity to be creepy. You can take a monster and attempt to describe it as frightfully as you like, and it will still stand little chance of comparing to a dark room where reality is skewed ever so slightly off-kilter that it drives a rational character like Twilight to speak to it against her will, break down into mad laughter, and panickingly conjure so much magic that she endangers her own health. And of course, the scariest thing of all is the unknown, so while I foresee many readers being let down by the open ending, I love the possibilities it creates - has Twilight at last fallen for the dark force's trap, or is her willingness to physically touch her body the final consummation of her feelings toward it, the triumph over her own self-doubt? I have no idea, and I have a feeling I don't want to. All I know is that I couldn't vote for this story fast enough."

1514242
I don't have near enough smilees to express just how happy this review makes me feel :raritystarry:
But I do have a favorite line. (among many choices, because holy crap, thank you for the review!)

It's obvious, reading it, that the author has a great control over and awareness of prose and its strengths and weaknesses as a medium.

God... I cant even begin to explain why that line makes me so damn happy. :rainbowlaugh: I guess because it's right on the money! And yet, for all I think about the topic, nobody really notices considerations like that. If you're doing your job right, they shouldnt notice stuff like that! But you recognize the effort, the choices, man! You do! Thank you! :raritystarry:

1515055
It's the least I could do, really (and something I really ought to do more often, not only because good writers deserve it but because, as an English major, this sort of thing is honestly good practice). Actually, you did more to inspire my praise than you probably realize; I saw one of your comments on the EQD page mentioning that you had written this story, and I tried replying with a small "Congratulations and also I totally voted for you!"-type comment, but for whatever reason it wouldn't go through no matter how many times I tried refreshing the page and posting it again. At which point I got it into my head to write a longish comment ranking the stories I liked (I told myself I'd write just a few sentences per story...). So thanks to you - and random glitches in EQD's comment system - both you and slightly more than half of the other contributing authors earned extra-long critiques in defiance of my usual overriding laziness (and I, in the process of writing of the stories' merits, grew to appreciate them all the more).

1515143
I tried to do some long reviews of my own (English minor, WE ARE DUTY BOUND TO CRITIQUE! :trollestia:) but they weren't nearly as lengthy nor half as polite as yours, I dont think :twilightblush: Consistent flaws sometimes override what I enjoy about a work, and its hard to leave a lot of positive comments...

But I actually sat down and read the rest of your long-form reviews, and I can personally say they were all fantastic. :twilightsmile: Getting a long review like that, understanding exactly what made ones story click and didn't click, those are incredibly helpful to one's personal progress. Especially since, on most stories, you only get that kind of review once in a blue moon. The type that seems both well-informed, and very thorough about strengths and weaknesses both.

So, once more, thank you for taking the time to do that. not just for my story, but for the six stories you decided to do a review on.

So uh... will the body ever move?

Woah, now that was creepy. I was on edge the whole time just waiting for something to pop out. Excellent work!

The place where it cut off didn't make much sense to me. It's not particularly scary (odd or even eerie, but not scary), we've received no information that would tell us why it probably should be scary, and no real idea what in the hell is going on.

Hmm.....Interesting. Confusing, but interesting........And I like it. Well done Grey. By the way, this is LunarGuard12 reporting.

This story is really great up to the very end. It isn't so much the fact that you don't reveal Twilight's fate in the end as it is that the mystery itself isn't solved. It has such an intriguing concept and an amazing setting that it literally ruins it for me that the mystery is never revealed.

I don't get it. Not that I didn't enjoy it, I just...don't get it. I suppose this lack of comprehension stems from the fact that we receive no new information during the story. It's just Twilight, paranoid as usual, discovering a comatose carbon copy of herself in a Canterlot Castle basement. Creepy? Fuck yes. Easy to understand? Hell no.
I demand background information. My intellect will not stand this!

1530934
Dude, your intellect is leading you to overthink the hell out of this.
Maybe it's just a creepy story and setting, and there's nothing more to that. :trixieshiftleft:

1531197
I hate that. But I did favorite the story.

I think the scariest part is that it's never revealed why all this is happening in the first place. After all, the most terrifying thing in the world is the extent of a person's imagination.

Fantastic work.

Gave this a read because the description drew me in. Seemed like an interesting premise and you sure did deliver! The atmosphere and the depiction of Twilight's paranoia are on point.

With or without more, I think it is definitely a good piece! Definitely makes the imagination run wild. Excellent job sir! :twilightsmile:

(And leaving the review here as well for... uh... posterity. Now with an additional last paragraph!)

This story really impressed me with its writing and might just the best tension setting story of the lot.

I mean it, the tension and rising suspense was well done. I was definitely on the edge of my seat. Others have criticized the choppiness of the narrative but given we are inside Twilight's mind, it makes sense. That's how someone, especially her, would think in a setting like that. It also lends itself to the jaggedness of the setting. It’s a quiet, dead room, one in which every thought and every action is something that stands out.

The ambiguity of the premise really worked in this story's favor. Right from the beginning we are handed a scene that is extremely compelling. Any background or external factors, such as other characters would, have ruined the premise. No Celestia, no explanation as to what Twilight’s doing at that library, or where her friends might be, just her, the room, and the body. You resisted the exposition pitfall! Have a cookie!

You also captured Twilight's character perfectly: doggedly persistent, always logical, yet entirely human in her fear. The reader knew, as well as Twilight, that she couldn’t keep up her normal approach for too long before things fully got under her skin. The build-up of an utter freakout by Twilight is almost more scary than anything that could possibly happen in the room, because that would deprive the reader of their fortress. The reader takes comfort inside Twilight's grounded mind but if she lets loose the bounds of sanity, then what does the reader have to stand on? It's a scary place to be. (Wow, I got far more cheesball-pithy there than I intended…)

However, despite all this nicely constructed writing we are still left without a true conclusion. Now I understand why you did this, I really do. You have all that suspense of the unknown, all that build up, and then you're forced to have a payoff? It's hard. The very mystery of the room and the body is what gives everything its horror, however, without a sense of finality, without a conclusion to roll around in my brain, it's hard for me to really say this story will stick with me. Even Lovecraft, whose very forte was the horror of the unknown, gave his story's conclusions. He hardly explained everything by the end, but they felt complete nonetheless.

I personally would urge you to write up a finish for it sometime (though I don't wish to sound bossy). I'd certainly give it points for effort, regardless of how good it was.

And I do mean that. If you're thinking about returning to it my response would be "Do it, filly!" I personally think it would be better to give it a shot and have it fall flat than just leave it hanging, but perhaps that's just me. Regardless, I shall be keeping an eye on your other writings.

1540293
Again, thank you kindly for your review :twilightsmile: And double thank you for posting it here so I can remember and cherish it always :trollestia:

Someday...
An alternate ending will be had! :pinkiecrazy:

"My talking is an offensive" should be "offense".

The story regresses into past tense between "There was a clatter." and "There we are."
Than again for a little bit after "Did I have the courage".
And with "It hummed as well!"
And "The scratches were pinching again. I adjusted, tilting to one side."
And "There were needles in my belly! I rubbed a hoof up and down my stomach, creaking and crashing backwards. The light spell sputtered and vanished, and silence pressed into my eyes, my ears."
And finally "And I reached my bloodied hoof"

Present tense is fine if you keep it consistent. In all other ways, I like this story, but it's grating to have to read through tense turbulence.

This story definitely should have won the contest, it was creepy as F---. Definitely the most well-written out of all the ones I've seen (aside from mine, of course :trollestia:), and that ending- holy shenanigans, talk about surreal horror. The writing became shorter and more fragmented as Twilight's madness increased, it fit so well! It felt like I was reading the Twilight Zone.

This. Is definitely one for the ages. Kudos, sir.

And then Twilight was the face.
:rainbowderp:

1540729
Usually I would say "thoughts in present, actions in past."
Then I remembered DERP! I wrote this story totally in present! :rainbowlaugh:
Thanks, I'll scrub those out as I edit and add~

Very nicely written story and I've got only 2 complaints:

1. I feel like the story needs a single sentence more. While you have cut it of at the height of the suspense, there isn't enough direction to what the reader should be afraid of in the end. While I can see all manners of scary and bad reactions, I can also see all kinds of positive and good outcomes and I'd guess just going a little bit further would cut them out entirely.
The way it is currently, it's an interesting view into twilight and how she copes with the situation, but what with the corpse never moving at all and twilight spending the last few paragraphs of the story blaming the room for the scary stuff it takes away the expectation that anything might happen.
... though I guess thinking about it, it just seems reasonable that if twilight's theory is correct the spell would react quite heavily to her touching the corpse, but still - it needs a bit more direction in my opinion.

2. The combination of these bits threw me a bit of:

But this wing was something I had never seen before.

I’ve never once seen a single librarian down in this crypt.

- of course it makes perfect sense as soon as one has read a few more lines, so it's really just a minor thing. But it startled me and made me reread the beginning a few times thinking that I missed something because of the sudden, percieved, change from "down in that area for the first time" to "been there quite often". Might also have been because I went into the story with the expectation that twilight finding the body would be the end of the fic.

But yeah, considering that those are my only complains and the second one is quite the minor one ... and well, that I enjoyed the story quite a lot and that it drew me in, I'd say: job well done and thanks for writing it!

This is the sort of story I really enjoy. You don't need to have things logically explained at length, that would detract from what it's trying to do. Some people will enjoy it and some will not. Some people just need for things to be all laid out for them, arranged in nice neat rows in a well lit room. They, unfortunately, seem to miss the fact that doing so would rob the story of its power.

The only problem I had with it, as you stated yourself, was the ending. It could have built to a higher peak before fading to black. You could have slowed time down as we peer into Twilight's attempt to stand up to her own doubts and fears. Within her own concerns, you could have hidden a few hints at possibilities of where it could go next, just before she makes physical contact with her own corpse. Usually this is the sort of advice I just keep to myself unless it is asked for, but your style reminds me of my own. I felt kind of obligated to throw a blanket over you before running out of the room. :raritywink:

There's some references to "thumb" (like in "thumbtack") which should probably be "hoof".

2398181
I am incredibly saddened that this comment represents your strongest impression of the story. :fluttershysad:

2399733

Sorry, unless I really like a story, or find a quote that makes me laugh out loud, I only make grammar/spelling corrections.

2401667 That's a bit of a shame. Tell us why you didn't really enjoy it, or why none of the quotes stuck out to you. The comments are there for exactly that... to comment.:twilightsmile:

I've just binge-read like half a dozen short horror stories, and this is probably the best one so far.

My only comment is about the ending, which others have pointed out too. While I'm a big fan of Lovecraftian-ish horror of the unknown, there has to be a reason to be afraid of said unknown for the horror to actually work.
Here, the last bit in the story sets up the body as being a protagonist, so to speak, while singling out the room itself as the antagonist. While of course Twilight might be completely wrong about that, she's a smart pony and could well be correct - this creates a feeling that touching the body is not necessarily a bad thing.
The result is that the story builds up an excellent horror atmosphere... And then basically says: "Hey the main creepy thing here is actually not at all creepy, here I brought a blanket and a sandwich for it" and then immediately tries to rely on said "main creepy thing" still being creepy (which it's not) to create a suspenseful ending (which fails), thus ending the story on a quite anticlimactic note. Hell, for all we know, touching the body dispelled the curse/spell on the room and gave Twilight all the answers she wanted.

If, on the other hand, the story gave some clue that Twilight's view expressed above ("the body's actually not creepy, I brought it a sandwich) is actually not true, and Twilight just got fooled by the spell into thinking like that, and touching the body is actually probably a Bad Idea, the ending would have been that much more potent.

Sequel?

Login or register to comment