Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite
“Night, Bloom,” said Big Mac, hesitating in the door frame, a black silhouette against the light spilling in from the hall. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” she said, quietly.
It wasn’t with much enthusiasm, her mind elsewhere, but he accepted it anyway, nodding and then shutting the door behind him to drown her room in pitch darkness.
Apple Bloom was quick to pull her covers back up and bury herself in them, scrunching her eyes tightly shut to block out the room’s darkness with her own. It was hard for her to say if that was better or worse, but she knew it was safer. Somehow, she knew. Her ears strained in the quiet, searching for any sounds other than the old farmhouse. Wind rattling the windows, whistling through the eaves. The sound of her breathing, still shaking, fearful pants.
But nothing else.
Maybe tonight was okay. Sometimes it was – rarely, but sometimes – and Apple Bloom almost let herself keep the briefest feeling of hope. Almost.
And then she heard it. Quiet. Almost imperceptible, if Apple Bloom hadn’t known what she was listening for, but she knew the sound all too well.
Creak.
The sound of buckling and bending wood as the thing beneath her bed detached itself and dropped to the floor, its weight sending that quiet sound tumbling through the room.
Creak.
Louder, and then a sudden, sharp thump right beneath her head, making her jolt in fear and pull the covers tighter. As if they would help her, as if they were any protection. Don’t look. If you don’t look it can’t do anything. It can’t hurt you. Keep your eyes shut and bury your head in your pillow and pretend you can’t hear it.
Creak.
And then a scuffling, shuffling sound. The sound of something heavy, dragging itself across old floorboards. Shuffle. Creak. Scuffle. Creak. Reaching the edge of the bed’s underside, the edge between that impenetrable darkness and the wide expanse of the floor. Slowly, oh so slowly scuttling its way out from where it dwelled, from where it unfurled.
Apple Bloom swore she could feel its back pressing up against the mattress, the slightest of bumps sliding beneath her, moving inexorably to the edges. Her heart crashing in her chest as the creature slithered its way out.
Don’t look.
She’d looked before, the first time she’d heard it. The first time she’d heard that creaking she had somehow mustered up the courage to peer over the edge of her bed, down into the darkness below. Nothing. Frowning, she’d leaned further still, lower and lower, until she’d been down far enough to see all the way underneath, the entire way, holding her breath in anticipation.
Just in time to see the tail end of something crawling up into the bed with her from the other side, and Apple Bloom had screamed so loudly that Mac and Applejack had burst in only a few moments later only to find Bloom sobbing in the corner, her bed empty. Underneath the bed just as bare.
Just a nightmare, they’d told her. Imagination. And even though they told her it wasn’t real, no matter how much Apple Bloom insisted otherwise, they were patient. Understanding. Reassuring.
The next night they were less patient. And the night after that, less still. “It’s just a dream,” Big Mac had told her. “It can’t hurt you.” And so Apple Bloom lay in the dark and kept her eyes scrunched tightly shut and tried not to scream at the skittering, scratching sound as the thing beneath her sought purchase on the side of her bed frame.
It’s not real, she told herself. It can’t hurt you. But it sounded real, and the lump under her mattress had felt real, and as the thing scratched at the wood Apple Bloom’s resolve wavered. Keep your eyes closed. Don’t look. Looking makes it real.
But not being able to see it did nothing to mute the sound as its claws finally caught and that creaking now came from the bed itself as the thing began to heave itself upwards. Whatever it was, it was heavy, and Apple Bloom felt the bed shift a little beneath its weight. And when the mattress began to sag she had to bite down on her hoof to suppress the scream.
It’s not real. It can’t hurt you.
Claws digging at the bedcovers, trying to drag itself the rest of the way up, the bed springs letting out a metallic protest as the mattress sagged further and Apple Bloom had to struggle to stop herself rolling towards it. Keep your eyes closed. Don’t turn around. Don’t look. Whatever you do, don’t look.
That creaking getting nearer and nearer, and now she could hear a faint clicking sound, although she had no idea how the creature made it. Click click click click. A staccato, rapid and abrupt, growing ever closer as the thing scrambled across the bed towards her. Click click click. Its weight starting to press against her through the covers, and all Apple Bloom could do was bury her head further into the pillows. It’s not real. It can’t hurt you. Be brave.
She didn’t feel brave. She felt small and scared, hot tears starting to roll down her cheeks again. The thing stopped moving, so close, and even the clicking had slowed now. It was waiting for something. Hesitating. Perhaps waiting for her to look at it, and she scrunched her eyes even more tightly shut at the thought. Apple Bloom tried to keep her breathing quiet, but it was hard when it was shaking so much, her entire body quivering in fear.
Click.
And then something reached out and hooked itself around the covers, right by her neck. Something long and slender, curved and wickedly sharp, so sharp that when it brushed against her Apple Bloom felt a hot slicing pain as it broke the skin. A claw, she thought – knew – and then slowly it began to pull, dragging down the covers, pulling them off of her, unwrapping and unravelling.
It was useless to try and stop it. Apple Bloom couldn’t even muster the courage to try. And so she let it drag the covers down, dragging the warmth away and submerging her in the icy cold of night, and all she could do was curl up tighter, hugging her hooves around herself to try and hold onto that rapidly dwindling warmth and safety. Shivering. Eyes so tightly shut, don’t you dare look. A claw scratching against her torso. Click. Click.
The covers dropped over the ends of her hooves, leaving Apple Bloom entirely bare, and she shuddered as the thing clicked again right beside her head. In the darkness behind her eyelids, Apple Bloom could only guess as to what it was doing. Watching her. Staring. Sizing her up. Waiting for something. But if it was waiting, it was clearly done because it finally began to move again. The bed sank down around her as it crawled up, clicking and slithering, and then it was climbing atop her.
Its exterior was hard and cold – chitinous – pressing against her fur as innumerable legs skittered around and on top of her. It was big, and heavy, and its weight sank down on top of her and pinned Apple Bloom beneath it even as it scrabbled for purchase. The clicking sound grew nearer and nearer, directly above her, and although she couldn’t say for sure Apple Bloom was convinced that if she were to open her eyes she would see a huge pair of mandibles clattering shut with each and every click, ringing out against the silence.
And once it had pinned her, the thing paused again. Not for long, though, just enough for Apple Bloom to wonder what it wanted, what it would do next, how it would devour her. It’s not real. I can’t hurt you. Except she knew that wasn’t right, even before its weight had made it hard to breathe, crushing against her chest and pinning her legs to her side. She felt a sudden, sharp sting against her cheek as the thing grasped her entire head, those long and slender claws gripping her tightly as it pulled upwards, forcing her to face the ceiling.
Don’t look. Don’t open your eyes. Open them and you’ll be staring right at it, and it won’t even give you the chance to close them again.
Click.
She was sobbing now, even though her heaving pants hurt, even though her chest felt like it was about to cave in and the thing would crush her ribs like old and brittle sticks just from lying atop her. If it noticed her tears, it didn’t show it. Instead she felt another claw roughly grabbing her jaw.
For a moment, Apple Bloom imagined it twisting. Ripping, tearing, freakish strength snapping her head clean off without even having to try. It didn’t twist, though. Instead it began to pull down her jaw, and maybe that was even worse. Forcing her to open her mouth, to open wide. No chance of resisting. Its grip was too tight, too strong, and the way the claws poked against her skin suggested that any fight would be met with sharp pain as it dug them deeper. Nothing she could really do to keep it from wrenching her mouth open, her fearful breathing now coming in loud, shaky pants. The air was cold, ice cold, almost hurting her teeth.
An awful wrenching sound ripped through the air from above her, a tearing, stretching. No more clicking, now, just a wide creak that kept going into splinters. Apple Bloom jumped as a drop splashed against her cheek, warm and wet. Somehow, all at once it made a terrible kind of sense to her. The creaking the sound of opening mandibles, and then tearing as it just kept stretching wide, wider than possible, ripping flesh and cracking chitin. The drip: spit.
Apple Bloom had exactly one moment of understanding, of knowing what was about to happen, and then she really did fight to keep her mouth shut. But it was too late, and the claws sank in deep and held her firm. And the next drop from the thing’s maw landed squarely on her tongue.
Putrid, acidic. She gagged and retched, but her struggles were pointless in the creature’s hold. Another drop, and another, all into her mouth. Bitter, bile. And underneath it all and somehow even more horrendous was a cloying sweetness, one that felt all too familiar.
Oh.
After the harvests, if Apple Bloom and her friends played in the orchards there would always be some apples that had been missed, that had fallen into the long grass and been overlooked. The same on her walk home from school, hidden in the verges of the long dusty path leading to Sweet Apple Acres. Apples that had dropped and lain there in the baking sun for days, weeks. This tasted like they smelled – the same stagnant sweetness, fermenting in the dirt.
Rotten apples.
The drips began to quicken, and Apple Bloom finally broke her petrified silence and tried to scream, no longer caring if it was just a dream and couldn’t hurt her, let Applejack and Big Mac chastise her if only they would save her from this, but then the foul liquid poured forth and drowned her cry in her throat.
Choking, spluttering. The viscous liquid filling her mouth so completely, spilling out past her lips and splattering wetly against the sheets as she coughed and tried and failed not to swallow any. Tears streaming freely as she writhed and sobbed and the thing kept its rough hold, its claws digging in so sharply she was sure they were drawing blood, hot pinpricks against her skin. The flood seemed endless. She was going to drown in it, in regurgitated rotten apples from the mouth of some awful thing she couldn’t even bring herself to look at. Her eyes starting to roll back in their sockets, her struggles weakening.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the deluge stopped, as though turning off a faucet. The thing still held her fast, but when she coughed and what was left of the sludge in her mouth splashed free it at least relinquished its grip on her jaw, allowing her to spit out what was left. Perhaps it didn’t matter; she’d already swallowed far too much of it, and she could feel it roiling uneasily in her belly. Heavy. Sickening. Coughing and retching, but if anything that just made the taste boil back up again, and so she tried to fight it down.
It’s just a dream.
She was long past believing that, now. Not with this taste and smell permeating every inch of her. Scream. Scream as loud as you can, get Applejack to help you. But as she took in the breath and prepared to do just that she felt a sharp claw press against her throat. Another went to her mouth, laying over it in some awful perversion of a silencing motion. Apple Bloom knew better than to disobey and feel that claw wrench into her jugular, and so she did her best to stay still and quiet for it, just like it wanted. The claw left her neck, and Apple Bloom could feel a small trickle of blood dripping through her fur where it had pierced the skin.
It continued trailing its way down her body, excruciatingly slowly, catching and dragging in sharp stings of pain against her skin. All the way down to her stomach, where it hesitated, pointing against the softness there, sharp and hard. A moment of tension, of weighted silence.
It’s just a dream. It can’t hurt y-
The creature pushed down and its claw broke through the skin, stabbing into her. Only a little, but enough to send lancing pain through her midriff as it pierced her. She wanted to scream, oh how badly she wanted to scream, but the claw that had silenced Apple Bloom moved to hold a grip over her mouth, muffling her. The other stabbed deeper, further, and surely soon it would be too much, soon it would hit something important and it would be too late, so scream Apple Bloom, muffled if it has to be, or this thing is going to-
The claw stopped. As abruptly as it had started, it withdrew, and she could feel drips spattering against her fur as it pulled away. The pain was less sharp, now. Not stabbing, but a dull, insistent throb all the way to her core. It couldn’t have gotten more than half an inch deep, and yet it felt so much worse.
But whatever its purpose, the creature was satisfied with its handiwork, relinquishing its hold and finally slithering off of her, and the gasp of air that filled her lungs as its weight slid off her chest was so sweet even though it still bore the slight taste of apples. Her breaths came short and sharp as the thing crawled beside her, and after one last waft of fermenting apples as it drew close it was skittering off the bed, leaving Apple Bloom shivering in the cold night air. Trying to keep her crying inaudible lest the thing change its mind.
It landed with a thump against the wood, legs scrabbling awkwardly for grip, and she both heard and felt it crawl back beneath her bed. The hard lump sliding underneath the mattress, pressing into the small of her back.
Please. Please don’t come back. Please just leave.
One final chittering sound, a click, and then dead, awful silence. Apple Bloom thought she had almost made out some whispered words in the noises it had made, but nothing she could understand. And in the quiet that settled so heavily throughout the room, Apple Bloom knew that if she were to somehow summon up the courage to peer beneath the bed, the thing would be gone. Back to where it came from: somewhere as impossible as the creature itself.
Apple Bloom opened her eyes, and her hoof went to her midriff where that dull, throbbing pain still ached, only to find it brushing against perfect, unmarked skin. The thing had stabbed her, skewered into her, but where she had expected blood and hewn open wounds, there was nothing. Unblemished. Unharmed.
But still it ached, still protested. Still she could taste apples.
It’s just a dream.
It can’t hurt you.
But maybe that was worse. If it was real, if it could hurt her, then at least Applejack would believe her. At least she would have marks to show, gouges and scratches. But this way the thing could crawl out from beneath her bed every night, climb up and pin her down and fill her mouth with rotten apples, stab into her flesh, and every morning it would be as though nothing had ever happened.
Apple Bloom was quick to pull the covers back up and soak herself in their reassuring warmth. Her eyes closed again but sleep seemed so far away, ears straining for the slightest sound, the sound of claws against the floorboards.
Of clicks.
Of creaks.
***
Apple Bloom always checked under her bed before turning in. Empty. Bare. The same as always. She wasn’t sure where the creature crept out from, but she knew it wasn’t here. Somewhere else, somewhere between reality and dreams. Or something like that. Either way, the underside of her bed was always empty and it didn’t matter because the thing would be there anyway.
She hadn’t bothered to tell Applejack. She didn’t see the point. More dreams, her sister would say. She’d even suggested visiting Zecora, getting some kind of zebra sleeping remedy, and that was when Apple Bloom had stopped asking. It wouldn’t work, she knew. Wouldn’t help. It would come for her all the same.
Her lantern flickered beside the bed, but Apple Bloom didn’t blow it out yet, even as she climbed up and buried herself in bedsheets. He’d do that for her. And so instead she lay down and closed her eyes and waited, wondering if she would fall asleep, knowing she wouldn’t. Knowing it wouldn’t matter if she did.
Nothing to do but lie there in anticipation. And soon enough, sure enough, she heard heavy hoofsteps in the hallway outside. Heavy enough that they could only be Big Macintosh, and with every step the floorboards creaked loudly, squealing underhoof.
Creak. Creak.
There was a slight unsteadiness to his gait, and she could tell even just through the shuffling sound of his hoofsteps. An unevenness, swaying a little. And then he stumbled to a stop outside her bedroom and fumbled with the door handle a couple of times before managing to undo the latch and swing her door open.
He hesitated at the threshold for just a moment before stepping inside, that familiar creaking following him in. And then he turned and shut the door behind him and the latch fell into place with a sharp
Click.
More unsteady steps as he staggered over to her bedside, and Apple Bloom pulled the covers up tighter even though there was no point, refusing to look at him. The heavy clump of his hooves filled the room, until they stopped right beside her bed, next to the lantern.
“Heya, Bloom,” he murmured.
Apple Bloom said nothing, turned away from him. She was never sure what he wanted her to say. Her silence did little to deter him – it never did – and with a long exhale Big Max extinguished the lantern and doused the room in darkness. For a moment he waited, so still in the gloom, and Apple Bloom stayed silent even though it didn’t matter, and eventually Mac sighed in frustration.
“Come on, Bloom. I know you’re awake.”
Apple Bloom said nothing.
Undeterred, Mac reached out a hoof and grabbed the top of her covers, trying to pull them down. And Apple Bloom had no recourse. Try and hold them up and he’ll know you’re awake. Let him pull them down and-
Nothing she could do. Nothing but let him tug them free to pool at the end of the bed. Nothing but shiver in the cold night air.
“Mac…” she began, not sure what she was even going to say after that, but he shushed her anyway.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s okay.”
The mattress sank down behind her as he crawled unsteadily onto it, gravity threatening to roll her down towards him, but she kept herself steady as the springs sagged and shrieked in metallic protest.
Don’t look. A lesson she’d learned quickly. It’s easier if you don’t look. It doesn’t hurt as much if you don’t look.
And as Big Mac rolled her onto her back and lay down on top of her, his weight pressing so heavily against her chest and threatening to force all the air from her lungs, Apple Bloom kept her eyes closed. He was muttering something, but she wasn’t sure what. She didn’t want to know, either.
His hoof hooked under her chin, turning her head up to face him, and if he noticed the tears already starting to run down her cheeks in the dark, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t stop. He never did. Instead he tilted her head to face his and pulled her into a deep, unwelcome kiss. His tongue probed into her mouth, and she could taste the stale cider on his breath, sour and sweet all at once.
Rotten apples.
Just keep your eyes shut. Don’t look. Keeping her eyes closed did little to stop the tears from spilling out, but it still helped. Looking would make it real. Looking would replace the image of her brother – the one she could rely on, trust implicitly, who would move the world to protect her – with the one that lay above her on these nights. But if she kept her eyes closed she could pretend it was something else, the creature that crawled out of her bed in her dreams, and then at least in the mornings she would be able to look at Mac without wanting to be sick.
It wouldn’t stop the nightmares, though. Nightmares of the thing unfurling itself beneath her bed, clicking mandibles and creaking floorboards. Its fat, chitinous body holding her down just like this, as pitiful and helpless beneath it as she was beneath Mac right now, and all those other nights besides. Trying not to upset him by making too much noise, just stay quiet as a mouse and everything will be okay. And keep your eyes closed.
It wasn’t the worst of it, of course. Crushing weight and rotten apples was one thing, but then would come the other. The reason he was here, the reason he kissed her. An insistent reason, poking against her stomach. Apple Bloom winced as he broke the kiss and repositioned, and no matter how much she squirmed she knew it wouldn’t matter, just like her tears didn’t matter, and his breath shook with anticipation and now the bitter taste of cider was between her teeth too and brace yourself, Apple Bloom, cry all you want but don’t open your eyes, it will be over soon. She bit her lip and waited for him to begin, and Big Mac swallowed in desire, and then-
Creak.
Mac froze above her, his weight still holding her down but with far less surety and insistence.
“Bloom?” he asked, and she could hear the scowl in his voice. “What was that?”
Apple Bloom couldn’t answer. Couldn’t find words, couldn’t bring herself to talk. Nothing but tears and gasping for breath even though her chest felt like it would burst and her heart clattered against her ribs. It was impossible.
Creak.
Again, and this time even Mac could no longer deny where the sound had come from. Beneath. Under the bed, the place where it had emerged so many times after Mac was done with her. The thing that her dreams had replaced him with, trying so desperately to keep it separate from the brother he had always been. But just a dream. Not real. Or so she’d thought, so he’d told her,, but now Big Mac had heard it too, and although Apple Bloom couldn’t bring herself to voice the words he must have understood. She’d told them so many times about the thing under her bed, and while he had always reassured her that it was just a dream and it wasn’t real, maybe he hadn’t meant it.
Maybe he knew who the creature beneath the bed was supposed to be.
“I told you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Big Mac shook his head. “That was just a dream,” he said, but the words were cracked with uncertainty. “A nightmare.”
Something strange and savage caught hold of Apple Bloom, filling her with contempt she’d thought herself incapable of, anger she’d locked away with the rest of it, now spilling out at last. “Then go look.”
Mac hesitated. Beneath the bed came another click, and again Apple Bloom could feel that lump against her back, winding and twisting as the thing uncoiled and began to scuttle towards the edge. Apple Bloom stared up at her brother, defiant, daring him to deny her now that the truth was incontrovertible. Finally he grunted and shifted himself off of her, letting her breathe deep and sweet. And as he clambered off the bed, Apple Bloom closed her eyes again and pulled up the sheets.
His hooves hit the floorboards with a soft thump, creaking in such a familiar way as he leaned down to peer beneath the bed frame. Apple Bloom kept her eyes closed. She heard him curse under his breath and reposition, too tall to properly see without lying fully on his side. Apple Bloom kept her eyes closed. She felt the edge of the covers raise as Mac lifted them.
Click.
He didn’t have time to move. He didn’t have time to shout. Apple Bloom felt as much as heard the THUD as the creature slammed into him and threw him backwards, and all he could manage was a wheezing grunt of surprise as the wind was knocked out of him.
Apple Bloom kept her eyes closed. But for just one moment, one abrupt flash, she saw through her closed eyelids all the same. Through something else’s. She saw Big Mac writhing in front of her, felt her own razor-like teeth clamped around his throat, and as he twisted and turned beneath her Apple Bloom could even make out the curled up and shivering shape of herself on the bed.
It wasn’t her, it wasn’t real. Somehow she was seeing through the eyes of the thing grappling with her brother. But just imagination, just a dream. She saw Big Mac stare up at the creature – at her – with wide, terrified eyes glinting in the gloom. Silently pleading. Begging.
And Apple Bloom bit down.
The vision vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the darkness behind her eyelids and a sickening ripping that shattered the air. Apple Bloom winced and scrunched her eyes tighter, and Big Mac’s choking was replaced by a wet gargle.
He thrashed and struggled, hooves knocking against the wood, and Apple Bloom somehow couldn’t shake the illusion of warmth around her mouth, the tang of iron against her tongue. Just a dream. When another horrific crunch came from the floor, and Big Mac gave a spluttering whine in response – all he could manage – Apple Bloom had to press a hoof to her mouth to stop her own terrified cry from escaping, and there truly was no blood there. Somehow that surprised her.
Mac’s struggles grew weaker, his hooves’ rapping against the floor less even. Just an odd twitch, now, as his drowned gurgles faded and waned. Was he trying to speak? It felt like he was, but Apple Bloom couldn’t tell what. Just twitching, just hooves splashing in the pool on the floor, just spluttering.
Just a dream, it can’t hurt you.
She wasn’t quite sure when Big Mac’s fading sounds stopped, when his hooves tapped for the last time. All she knew was that at some point his ragged, liquid breaths had silenced, and the room was icy still. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, even if he didn’t deserve them.
It was her fault.
It was his fault.
Somehow she had brought this thing here, but it was his monster as much as hers. It had crawled out of her dreams, out of her nightmares, and now her brother lay still on the floor. And even if he deserved it, even if he deserved far worse, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but cry for him.
And then the scuttling began to approach the bed again, and she did all she could to stymie her tears. Was she next? Would it only be satisfied once it had taken both of them? She didn’t know. A muted indifference had settled through her, all too much to process. So she simply cried and the thing got closer and she waited to feel those impossibly wide jaws close around her neck just like they had with Big Mac. Just like she’d felt.
But it didn’t bite down. It didn’t even climb all the way onto the bed. Just enough to lean in, and she could still smell the faint trace of apples from its jaws, almost but not entirely overpowered by the metallic tang of blood. She whimpered beneath it, and when it clicked loudly beside her ear she couldn’t help but shudder. And then again at the cold touch against her cheek as the thing pressed a claw against it. One silent moment, and she imagined it digging deep, and then-
It brushed her tears away. Slowly, deliberately. Carefully. The creature’s mandibles clattered together as it gently dried her cheeks. First one, then the other. Wiping them clean. It clicked again, and only when it was fully satisfied her tears were gone did it slide back down to the floor, skittering beneath her bed for the last time. She felt the lump pressing into her back, heard the floorboards creak, and then those too were gone.
Apple Bloom was alone.
She lay in the dark and the quiet, trying not to think about those last ragged gasps Big Mac had made, trying not to remember that awful tearing sound, or his hooves clattering uselessly against the boards. Part of her wanted to call out to him. Part of her knew he wouldn’t answer. If she strained her eyes she could just about make the edges of his motionless form in the dark.
It’s okay, he’d told her. I love you, he’d assured her.
It’s not real, he’d said. It can’t hurt you. The smallest of smiles crept across her lips, and Apple Bloom let out a strange, strangled sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
It’s not real. It can’t hurt you.
He’d been half right.