Nocturnal

A horror story by EmoFlutterguy

It's cold outside.

Normally this wouldn't be a problem for me, but tonight is different. Almost unnatural. I am frightened. I feel as if the wind could cut me down at any moment, with the way it tears through me. I am lost. I don't remember why I am here in the first place. Why can I not see? It is a fuzzy slew of pitch blackness and the blinding snow pounding against my face. I am drenched from head to hoof, longing for the warmth of my house, my home.

The taste of blood fills my mouth. I hear the snapping of branches around me, but I am not able to scream. My throat is tight and silent. I try to scream for help, but the only thing audible over the gale is a harsh exhale. Mine, but who would hear me anyway? I am able to breathe, but the merciless cold pierces my lungs with every gasp. Is this the end for me?

I trot faster, my hoofprints disappearing almost instantly behind me. I have no option but to move forward, for if I get lost it will all be over. I close my eyes and weep quietly but my tears are masked by the snow melting from the heat of my body. How long will the body heat be there? I do not know. It all reminds me of flying. I used to hate flying. For years I was afraid of heights, and I was barely able to lift my frail form from the safety of the ground. I was teased, but I finally learned with the help of my friends. I had forgotten what that fear was like. But now as it pummels me into the ground, I am terrified.

And it is, oh, so cold outside.

I hope with all of my being that my animal friends will be safe from the blizzard when I arrive... if I arrive. I step around trees and vines, pull myself up steep inclines, and trudge through brambles as I make my slow and unsteady way out of the forest. I have tried to fly, but I am forced back down by the snow, ice, and hazardous greenery overhead. I duck under limbs, step over roots, and force myself to keep going through teary eyes that blur any hopes of vision I had.

I am relying on my hooves to feel the path ahead of me now, they are scratched, cracked, and chipped. My coat is matted, muddy, and is useless for keeping warm. I stop to pry a gathering of hair from my cheek as it sticks to me. I fight on for what feels like a hundred thousand yards before I walk into what appears to be a clearing. I stumble in a beeline for the slightest outline of a building. The shadow of my home, my sanctuary from the elements, now looms above me as I cross the bridge to my door. I pound of the wooden door, desperately hoping that my Angel will hear me.

A rush of sudden warmth floods out to greet me as the door creaks open, a delicate, mischievous young rabbit stands at my hooves with concern in his eyes. I struggle to let out even a whisper. "I'm okay Angel," I say, but all he hears is a hoarse breathe forced through a frozen muzzle. He pulls me into the house and throws an extra blanket over me as I crawl into my bed. Shivering, I thank him and try my best to warm my body. The temperature has now changed so severely that the blanket, heated by the fire, burns my skin. I dare not take it off, because I fear the cold will find me again. I pull the covers over my head, and shut my eyes to cry. My muscles are aching, and I am tired.

I am drifting off now, but I am still wondering why I have been waking up in strange places early in the morning. This is the third time my life has been threatened by these incidents, and it is certainly the worst. As everything fades to black I have a sudden, hazy memory of fangs tearing through flesh. I distinctly remember the scent and taste of blood.

Waking up at noon, I am suprisingly full. The last time I had eaten was breakfast the day before, and taking care of animals is a tiring occupation. I find it curious that I cannot bring myself to eat the bowl of soup Angel brings me. It smells strange to me, I miss a peculiar smell and taste that I cannot recall the source of. Getting up, I walk shakily outside and stare out at the debris from the night before, coated in glistening snow.

A beautiful, but wild and untamed wilderness greets me with the calls of Whippoorwills and the cold breeze flowing through my fur. A pleasantly warm sunlight shines down on my face, heating me from my frozen state. I wrap my blanket tighter around me, enjoying the sunlight as it awakens my mind.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I begin my day of cleaning up the land.

I call upon the help of my larger forest friends to remove the large carnage of trees and fully grown bushes, ripped from the ground by the winds of last night's storm. Mister Bear, the Boars, and even two Mountain Lions help push the trees into less hazardous areas, where the beavers can split them into not only supplies for their home, but firewood for me as well. While this is going on, squirrels and the larger birds pick up the smaller branches. The otters and badgers use their claws to help split up ice on the surface of the stream, and I bring them food and water for their troubles. After a few hours, the work is almost done, and a friend of mine shows up. It's Applejack, but she seems to be terrified of something.

"Fluttershy!" She shouts to me, galloping full speed. Stopping almost on a dime, she looks at me, frightened. "Fluttershy, those Vampire Fruit Bats are misbehaving again! I need your help!" I look at her firmly. "Now Applejack, I have told you. I don't like using my stare on animals, I can't just-" "You don't understand!" She interrupts, "It's different this time! They're attacking us, not fruit!"

A chill goes down my spine. It is rare for herbivores to suddenly change their tastes, so what is happening? "They are attacking ponies?" I ask, and she turns her head. I see two small, but deep, incisions in her neck. They are spaced only a centimeter away from each other, given the bats' small size, but are maybe an entire inch deep. Dried blood forms a streak across her fur, implying that she tried to just wipe the blood away. My knees start to shake even more, almost giving. I cannot stand the sight of blood. I nearly faint when a single drop is nearby.

Feigning calmness, I bring her a bandage and follow her back home to Sweet Apple Acres. I see that the apple trees in the far west are thriving, which proves that the bats are neglecting them. Applejack watches the treetops fearfully, and I remind her that the bats are nocturnal. She calms down slightly, but runs a hoof over her wound and shudders.

I approach their farmhouse, a melancholy sheet of gray now blots out the blue sky. It looks like it's going to rain, or sleet, I'll ask Rainbow Dash when I get the chance. But either way, a storm is almost inevitable. Applejack knocks on the door and several locks are unlocked before her young sister, Applebloom, opens the door with a worried look. "Sis, Granny's getting sick. Do we have firewood?" Applejack looks down at the little filly. "Wouldn't Big Mac have already built a fire? Where did he go?" Applebloom tells us that he went to the market and hasn't come back yet.

Applejack whispers a quick "Consarnit" and pulls some logs from the top shelf of a closet. Arranging them in the fireplace, she looks over at Granny Smith. The elderly mare gives a couple of coughs and glances from her knitting with a tired grin. "Hello deary," she speaks in her squeaky voice, "I see you brought your animal friend." She smiles at me, and I quietly smile back.

Now that the fire is going, I sit down next to the hearth with Applebloom. Applejack looks at me and I nod. I speak up, "So Applejack, what's going on?" Granny Smith stops knitting, and Applebloom hugs her sides. Applejack looks back to me, a thousand-yard stare clouding the green shade of her eyes.

"It started just a few weeks ago. The reason we came to you now is because it's getting out of control.

"I was harvesting the apples from the trees further west, about to head back home. I approached one tree, oh, and this tree had fully grown and healthy apples. I went to harvest them, and I just happened to see the bats staring at me. Then I noticed no tree had been devoured by the bats. Anywhere! They didn't do anything, they just sat there staring at me!

"A few day later, the bats started moving from their area of the orchard into ours. They didn't harm anything, they just watched us. We tried chasing and scaring the varmints off, but they just sat there motionless. It was weird, I couldn't put my hoof on it though. I realize now that the looks they were giving were predatorial. Anyway, this-" she motions to her neck "-happened just last night, I finally tried bucking them out of a tree, and one came at me. I tried to jump out of the way, but the sucker dove in and got me. I must've lost a pint by how dizzy I was afterward. I don't remember anything after that, I woke up in my bed the next morning with Big Mac watching over me."

There is a short period of silence when she finishes. Granny Smith again raises her eyes from her knitting and Applebloom stares out the window from a crack in the curtains. The silence is broken by the front door opening. Big Mac enters the house with groceries filling his saddlebags. "Dagnabbit Mac, I told you to tell me if you were planning on leaving to go anywhere!" Applejack groans, "Did you even think of Applebloom and Granny?"

In response, he tosses her his grocery bag. "Eeyup" he answers as she removes medicine and snacks from the bag. "So you're telling me that you knew Granny was sick, and went to the market to bring her some medicine?" "Eeyup." "And that we had no snacks for Applebloom?" "Eeyup." She pauses for a moment, smiles at him, and leaves to fix Granny Smith's medicine. I begin to feel uncomfortable sitting in one place and get up to pace the kitchen where Applejack is getting the medicine together.