0-0-0-0-0

I don't think I've ever seen a place more despondent and miserable than Ponyville.

The hazy fog didn't seem to pervade the town quite as badly as everything else, but it definitely wasn't staying out of the village. It was more like a thick portion of the mist strayed around Ponyville's borders, a bit like a timberwolf circling prey. I didn't like the thought at all, and after throwing a few more looks over my shoulders, I pressed on.

The town really was a wretched looking place, and I was more convinced of such the further I walked. I say 'walked', but in truth it was more of a trembling forward crawl that had been sped up a bit because I was too afraid to stand still. So many boarded up holes, wooden planks slapped up over doors and windows. Many, if not all of them looked to be hastily done, and vapor trails slithered across the ground like luminescent snakes that parted just for me.

I can't really say that it was the kind of welcome I wanted or needed, but it's what I got.

The streets were mostly dark, except for a dim streetlamp light here and there in the distance. There was a single candle set outside a little shop on one of the street corners, and since I was firmly decided against trekking through the dark to reach one of those streetlamps, I picked my way through a bit of rubbish to get to the shop.

I had no idea why there seemed to be so much junk lying about in the street, before I realized that it all appeared to have been stacked and lined up along the outskirts of Ponyville.

Almost like a barricade.

Didn't do them any good.

I pushed those thoughts right out of my mind, shaking off the creeping sensation that I was being watched. There was still no sight of the filly as I finally approached the shop, with a dirty little sign out front labeled Carousel Boutique. There was something about the sign swaying back and forth that drew me to it even faster. Maybe it was the moonlight, maybe I was just too eager to get out of the night air and put solid walls between myself and whatever I was sure was still following me.

I berated myself, almost as an afterthought, for not even knocking before pushing my way right into the place.

I jumped at the painfully loud ringing going off the moment I opened the door, the bell clinging and clanging wildly as it was struck by the wood. I cringed with every single chime, eyes adjusting to the low lighting in the boutique.

Candles had been strewn around, although about half seemed to have been blown out or burned too low to function. Long shadows were cast over the entrance, leaving the remainder of the high ceilinged shop in shadow. I blinked a few more times, the door latching far too loudly behind me as I caught my breath.

"A-anypony home?" I called out weakly, and cleared my throat. Much to my surprise, somepony actually answered.

"Co~ming!" a singsong, squeaky voice answered from somewhere on the second floor, echoing all the way down to me. At first I found it a little hard to believe that anypony had heard my pitiful call in the first place, but it occurred to me promptly afterwards that it was probably just the bell that had been heard, and I was worrying for nothing.

But of course it wasn't for nothing. What kind of pony holds an open shop while seemingly everything else is boarded up and abandoned…?

I didn't have much more time to contemplate, as the trotting down the stairs alerted me to the owner. My heart sped up at the sight of the filly, but it clearly wasn't the one that I had seen before. It was a small, pale white unicorn with a pink and purple interspersed wet mane. Bright pale green eyes shone out like lights from her thin face, but her smile was large and warm.

"Hi there!" she squeaked pleasantly, marching right up to me fearlessly. "What'cha doing in Carousel Boutique? Not feeling pretty today?"

I stared at the sopping wet filly for a moment before shaking my head violently. I don't know why my mind went so blank when I tried to recall, but I felt stupid.

"Um… I don't really know," I answered truthfully. "I-I'm not really s-sure of-of much of anything, really."

"Ah, you'll be ready in no time at all, Fluttershy!" she slapped me roughly on the shoulder with a strength far too great for somepony of her size. "No time, no time at all."

I resisted the urge to shove her wet hoof away, suspicion tingling up my spine as I fought the simultaneous impulse to look over my shoulder, even though the door was firmly closed. I hoped.

"Oh, my. It seems that you-you already know my name," I pointed out politely, to which the filly only beamed even wider. Too wide. Too much for the smile to be natural.

"Well, of course I do, Fluttershy!" her face contorted into that too-wide grin again. "Everypony knows you."

I don't think I've ever been scared of a little filly. Not once, not in my whole life. Except for that moment, except for that particular filly. I don't know what it was about how she spoke that just had a dreamlike quality to it, like she wasn't really paying attention that utterly unnerved me.

And she just kept smiling.

I scolded myself internally, shaking off my fear. It was ludicrous, of course. In fact, the poor little thing was probably even more frightened than I was at some stranger barging in in the middle of the night, and was just coping better than I could.

"Um, if you don't mind," I blurted suddenly, taking a slow and cautious slide backward, just out of her reach. "I don't even know your name."

"Sweetie Belle!" she smiled again, almost radiating friendliness. "Come on, Fluttershy. You know me."

Desperate to change the conversation and hopefully get the filly to look anywhere else but at me, I forcibly turned away and inspected a couple of the burned out candles.

Still warm.

"Ponyville seems to be having a bit of a hard time," I stated conversationally, and it came out sounding much braver than I really felt.

"Ponyville?" Sweetie Belle blinked. "Oh, you know how it is, Fluttershy. Things start to fall apart without somepony to keep it all together. You know?"

I hummed and nodded, still put off by just how nonchalant she was being.

"Um, if you don't mind…" I started, unwilling to go back outside. "W-well, um, would you happen to have a spare bed here? If you don't mind, I mean."

"Sure, sure!" Sweetie clapped her hooves together energetically. "Just let me get things cleaned up a little, and-"

"Oh, no, I don't want to be a bother," I blurted automatically. "I mean, I don't mind staying someplace out of the way. Is there a guest room in a place like this?"

"There's a mat behind the counter," Sweetie Belle nodded toward the counter on my right, with a small green rollup mat tucked neatly out of sight. "You can stay there just as long as you want, Fluttershy."

She already had a mat by the door. Convenient.

… Very convenient.

I really don't know if I was always so suspicious of ponies, but I think it was just the filly's overeagerness to ensure that I really was staying. Regardless, I was tired and hurting, and covered with cuts.

"Do you have any bandages?" I asked wearily, the ache of all the events starting to crash in on me. Heck, at that point, I probably would have thrown out my fears and suspicions and slept on the roof if she asked me to, so long as I could rest. "Antiseptic, something? I think I was, um… bitten by something, out there."

"W-oh, yeah!" Sweetie nodded ferociously, darting back up the stairs quietly. "Yeah, I know just what you mean. Gotta stay together, or else you might fall apart," she chuckled. "Stay right there, I'll go grab some… things."

It took her maybe – maybe twenty seconds to find what she needed and return, and even then I thought that it was remarkably quick. I had just started to peek up the stairs that led into the darkness of Carousel Boutique when Sweetie's face came sharply into view, making me jump.

Her eyes flashed with hard anger for a split second, but the next it was gone. I had to wonder if I had imagined it.

"Here you go," she dropped a couple of rolls of pleasantly clean bandages on the floor before me, leaving me to pick them up. "Need help getting them on?"

"Oh. Thank you," I nodded gratefully as she expertly wrapped my back left leg. "I probably would have had some difficulty getting them on myself. Is this all you have?"

Again with the flash of anger, quickly followed by an enormous and clearly false smile.

"All I can spare at the moment," Sweetie replied casually, finishing the wraps tightly. "You just get yourself some rest, hmm? That's it, right over there. Go to sleep, Fluttershy."

Now, any sane pony would have noticed some red flags like that, but I just felt all the more tired the longer I stood there. I just nodded stupidly and dragged out the little green bedroll, hissing sharply as I pulled one of the cuts on my side and tried to lie down more comfortably. Sweetie left without another word, leaving me alone in the dim candlelight behind the register as I listened to the sound of my own quiet breathing.

I really did try to sleep. Honest, I did.

The first thing I noticed when I turned over to my side was the shining black crowbar tucked neatly against the bottom of the counter. It took me a few seconds to realize just why my attention was so drawn to it, before I realized that the crowbar, while looking polished and new, stood in stark contrast to the dust coated counter. It seemed sort of odd, why it would be coated in dust.

I lay there pondering that for a little while, all the while growing a bit more uneasy with the burning of every candle.

I think I had just started to really drift off, even though I didn't want to, when I was ensured that I wouldn't be doing any sleeping that night at all.

Screeeeeeeeak.

Screeeeeeeeak.

It was a sound that was far too loud to be ignored, and it was only worsened by the fact that everything else was so silent. I didn't even notice when I was holding my breath, listening to the sound of something heavy being dragged over the wooden floors above me.

Screeeeeeeak.

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeak.

And that's when I heard just the faintest, almost imperceptible cry. A quiet, long sob, which was quickly cut off by another loud screeeeeeeeeak.

And then silence.

0-0-0-0-0

I hightailed it right the hell out of Carousel Boutique.

I wish I had a saddlebag, or else I would have taken a few of those candles with me. Instead, all I managed to do was grab the crowbar and slip out the door, careful not to set off the bell again. I carried the crowbar over my shoulder, determined not to be caught off guard by anything that could bite me again. I even gave it a couple of weak swings, but it was difficult to hold without additional grips.

I settled for letting it bounce against my shoulder again, the shadows and fog of Ponyville seeming to loom over me the further I walked. I didn't even care about going into the dark anymore, I definitely wasn't staying at the shop.

I almost – almost – turned back to look as I entered the long shadows cast by the buildings, creaking and moaning in the wind.

If I had, I might not have spotted the shimmering, skittering thing darting away to the side ahead of me.

Too small to be a pony, too large to be an animal that I recognized. The shining blackness on shadows instantly reminded me of a beetle's carapace, and I wasted absolutely no time whatsoever making straight for the next lamppost. I subconsciously held my breath with each patch of shadow that I galloped through, like the darkness itself was noxious. At several points, I could have sworn that every time I stepped into the dark, somepony was reaching out for me and touching my face, ever so gently caressing my mane and darting away before I could catch them. I tried to attribute it to the wind, but it was as still as a crypt on those streets. I only made it to the second one before the fear started setting in again, and powerfully.

I couldn't help the feeling of being surrounded at all times, things that were just outside of my sight. Invisible things that lurked just out of the light, waiting for me to come back.

And then the light went out.

"Nope!" I shouted, barreling forward toward the next flickering light down the street. "No, no no no!"

The panic set in even worse when I really did hit something, swinging the crowbar wildly before me as I ran and almost losing it in the process. Not just because I hit something, but because I nearly dropped it when whatever I hit screamed like a little filly.

The scream was echoed, and in more way than one. It bounced off the buildings' decaying sides, and was repeated through every single patch of darkness around me. The horrible sound of high pitched, shrieking invisible fillies all around me, and I just kept swinging.

I don't know if I hit any more of them or not by the time I reached the light, and I didn't care. The only things I knew when I stood under that flickering lamplight were that I vainly prayed that it woudln't go out just as the last one, and the end of the crowbar was coated in a foul, red looking substance that I didn't want to think about at all. While the light still remained and nothing sinister seemed to follow me into it, I caught my breath and peered around for something, anything that might help me.

I was getting more desperate the more the light flickered, and I could hear the shuffling just outside the light getting closer and closer. Waiting for it to go out.

Throwing caution to the wind, I stumbled over the sidewalk and toward one of the boarded up doors. Violently jamming the crowbar's end between the wooden slats, I began shoving and yanking with all my might. Boards resisted me for all but a few minutes, as some of them were rotten and warped to the point that the rusted nails holding them in place did little to help. The lights flickered again and again, each time taking a little longer to come back on.

I whimpered aloud, muscles screaming as I pried off the last one and shoved the door open weakly…

Just as the lights went out.

I rammed the door shut behind me, my breath coming in fast, short gasps as I slid down the door, eyes almost bulging with fear. It met resistance initially, like somepony had managed to catch their hoof in the door just as I tried to close it, which only urge me to shove it closed harder until it finally latched. I still clutched the crowbar tightly to my chest as I fell, clinging to it as if it were my lifeline.

It wasn't until the knocking on the door started that I really began sobbing.

I couldn't help it.

It started with just one or two knocks up at the top.

Knock. Knock.

Then a few more around the sides. High and low, at the same time.

Knock knock. Knock knock knock knock.

Before I knew it, the whole door was trembling and quivering harder than I was with the force of the knocking, like a hundred sets of little hooves were hammering on it all at once.

"Go away!" I screamed, dropping the metal bar with a clatter and covering my laid back ears with my hooves. "Go away, please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, leave me alone, leave me alone!"

I didn't mean to snap like that. I really didn't.

I just laid there shaking and crying, not even noticing when the knocking finally stopped. I didn't notice when I passed out from fear and exhaustion. I didn't notice the cold making me shake in the night, I didn't notice the figure standing over me while I slept.

I didn't even notice when the night finally ended, and sunlight crept in through the slats in the boarded up windows.

0-0-0-0-0

It is a strange thing, to awake amidst the eye of the storm.

I woke up stiffly with my back against the door, crowbar still tightly clutched in my hooves. I sat up slowly, tiredly rubbing my eyes and listening to the sound of chirruping and happy whistling of birds. With the morning sun drifting in through the window, dust motes dancing lazily through the air as I watched them, I could almost pretend that there was nothing wrong.

And then the memories of the night before all came flooding back, and I started feeling woozy before I even stood up. I dropped the crowbar in disgust, the end dried with some caked redness that made me feel dirty just for looking at it.

It wasn't long before I picked it back up, though.

Daylight or no, I didn't want to be caught defenseless. Not ever, ever again.

With still no memory coming back to me – I sort of suspected that it wouldn't, but I could hope – I took a few minutes to stretch and straighten my mane, taking personal inventory of myself before my surroundings. I really needed a bath by that point, but I doubted I was getting one. There was only so much that I could do with my mane before giving up on it completely, and tightened some of the bandages.

The place I'd broken into seemed to be some kind of cross between a home and a bodybuilder's shop. It almost reminded me of Carousel Boutique, but was much less creepy. Probably because I could see things in the light of day. Barbells and 'muscle enhancing shakes' appeared to have adorned the shelves, but they were all broken and everything was left in piles on the floor. Broken glass crunched under my hooves as I carefully stepped through the rubble, curiously gazing over the mess for anything that might have told me more about the place. Maybe it's because I was feeling much more comfortable, safer, that I didn't panic quite so badly.

"I see you're awake."

Note that I didn't say I didn't panic at all. Believe me, I panicked. Quite a lot, actually. Just not nearly as badly as I could have, that's all I'm saying.

I whirled on the spot, crowbar held vertically in front of my face like a pathetically slim shield. I think my heart nearly jumped into my throat when I spotted the gargantuan beast, leaning calmly against the doorframe with a cup of steaming coffee in one of his gigantic hands. Just in between his fingers, really. The minotaur really was enormous, I don't think I've ever seen anypony that big before, not even the biggest of griffins. I couldn't help but stare at him, just standing there so nonchalantly like there wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe he got threatened by little pegasi with crowbars all the time.

Then again, like I said, he was massive. Bulking muscles that rolled when he moved, sleek, neat blue fur that narrowed out from his hips upward and into an impressive six-pack. His tail swished back and forth almost like a predatory animal as he watched me, and I couldn't help but notice the gleaming and heavy looking steel ring lodge in his nose, which was only half as shiny as his sharp horns. In short, he was built like a tank. A very athletic, scary looking tank.

Did I mention that I get intimidated easily?

For the second time that morning I dropped the crowbar noisily, scrabbling for in in terror. My eyes never left him, and he never moved. He just stayed where he was while I collected myself, sipping quietly at the little cup of coffee.

"Got that out of your system?" he asked evenly in a deep, guttural voice that almost made my bones shake.

"Um, I-I-I'm so sorry," I blurted, scooting backwards over the debris away from the hulk. "I didn't mean to, I-"

I don't know why, but he seemed to find it really funny.

"Come on, kid," he beckoned me as he turned and walked away down a little hallway that hid behind him. "You look like a wreck."

I followed him cautiously, emboldened that it wasn't too dark and he was leading me to another fairly well lit room. I'd learned pretty well by that point to distrust the darkness at all times. The minotaur moved very quietly for one with so much weight and size, like his hooves barely touched the ground. He had an odd sort of grace about him, which I suppose would be really necessary for anypony with that much mass.

He drew me into a small, cozy little demolished kitchenette, with faded photographs hanging from the walls. Doilies that looked to have been rotted or chewed hung in tatters here and there, and cracked or broken dishes looked to be strewn about like they had all been dashed against the walls and replaced. The minotaur didn't seem to notice any of this, though. He just silently beckoned me to follow him as he sat at one of the barstools in the little kitchen, and wordlessly poured another cup of coffee that surprisingly wasn't as damaged as the rest of the china.

"Take a seat, mare," he uttered loudly, but still quieter than before. I don't really think he could be quiet, but I kept that to myself. "Iron Will can see that you need a pick me up."

I nodded gratefully when he slid a fresh cup of coffee to me down the counter, and I clambered awkwardly into one of the tall barstools that wasn't demolished directly next to him and we both faced a boarded up window. I'll admit that I sniffed it guardedly a couple of times, but he didn't seem bothered.

It was bitter and strong, but nothing wrong with it from what I could tell. So long as it was hot, I didn't really mind. The warmth seeped past my lips and down my spine, and I let out a silent sigh of approval. It was almost… normal.

And then he went and put an arm around me.

Maybe if we had met under different circumstances.

I mean, I didn't have anything against the apparently named Iron Will, but we had hardly spoken at all to each other. He seemed friendly enough, but… I don't know. I was confused, tired. It freaked me out, and I bristled immediately under his touch. I don't know quite why I was just so… threatened. Even his touch was very gentle, but it set off alarms in my head all the same.

"Pl-please don't," I carefully pushed his heavy hand off of my shoulder, nearly dropping the cup as his fingers slid down tentatively over my wings and making me blush even brighter. "I-I mean –"

"Iron Will is only trying to provide, 'cause in the future it'll be denied," he stated a little sadly, drawing away. It didn't help that his speaking in the third person was throwing me off as well.

"Oh. Um, thank you," I shifted uncomfortably. "But I-I'm quite alright, thank you."

I don't have much of a memory of lying, and I certainly didn't then. Really, right about then was when I really, really needed somepony to hold on to because of everything going south, somepony to tell me that I was only dreaming and everything was going to be okay. But of course, that's not how it happened. I lied right through my teeth, and all because I felt vulnerable in front of somepony so large. And for… reasons that I'm not quite certain of myself. He just made me uneasy.

Iron Will only looked at me hard for a few seconds before turning back to his own cup, holding it in both hands. It looked spectacularly tiny in comparison, like a giant holding a foal's toy. While I was still fairly put off by him, I really felt a little bad and sorry for him from the sad, empty stare he threw at the wall in front of us.

"Stand and be tough, don't take any smack – when life takes away, you take right back," he nodded to me seriously, and I nodded in return. I don't know why he was speaking so cryptically, though. It was clear that he was eyeing the crowbar that I was still hanging onto, heaven knows why.

I felt kind of ashamed from the look that he first gave me, like it was one of disappointment. Immediately after that came a silent but subtle nod, a scrunching of his face that might have been approval. Maybe.

"You'll remember if you kill."

I blinked, staring at him as the fear slowly rose in my throat. Iron Will stayed just where he was, though, still staring straight back and sipping again at his coffee.

"Um… w-what?"

"You already have," his large yellow eyes flicked to the crowbar's dirtied end and back to me. "Has to be equine for all to be fine. Net a monster, you'll get no further. You've got to kill off sanity to keep your own."

I gaped at him for even longer, suddenly feeling very, very apprehensive. Even more uncomfortable than when he started to feel me up, and that's saying something. The only thing to make the situation even worse was my gradual understanding that I really had no idea how Iron Will had gotten into the place, as it had been previously boarded up. How? How had he gotten inside?

Was it possible that he was… here all along?

Iron Will kept on watching me, like a hawk. He didn't even blink when he spoke, and he said it all as if he were discussing the weather with an old friend.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I started slipping off the barstool and away from him nervously, really wanting nothing more than to get away before something bad happened. I didn't let go of the crowbar, either. That same swelling fear that something atrocious was going to happen at any moment pushed me to get out faster, and I was nearly ready to start breaking windows just to do it.

"You will," he added quietly, looking away and back at the bare patch of wallpaper. "Or you'll go mad, trying to remember something that you can't. Kill them. Kill them, Fluttershy."

I ran then, heart pounding in my ears as I darted down the hall, crowbar scraping along with me as I made straight for the door and yanked it open, dashing out into the sunlight to escape the clearly mad minotaur. Even when I put distance and walls between us, I still felt his sharp yellow eyes boring a hole right into my back.

"Kill them all."

0-0-0-0-0

It wasn't very bright outside, but it was better than the dark.

I burst out into the light, sweating and throwing panicked, nervous looks over my shoulder to see if the murder-happy minotaur had followed me.

The doors were still boarded up.

"… No. No, no," I pulled at my mane with my free hoof, baffled. That was impossible. There was no way – there was just no way!

My heart raced in my chest, thumping an irregular rhythm the harder I thought on it. In the end, I wound up giving in; it didn't matter if I denied it or not, the fact that the door was still very much boarded up didn't change. I even felt it fearfully with the back of my hoof, listening closely for Iron Will.

Nothing.

I let out a quivering breath, and ran a hoof through my mane before starting off. The same odd fog that had lingered over Ponyville the night before was still hanging overhead, permeating the entire village. It nearly blotted out the sun, dragging everything into shadow. Still better than nighttime, though.

Believe it or not, I actually considered tearing the boards back down and going back in search of Iron Will. There was that little spark of determined bravery, the part of me that demanded answers to make sense of all the strangeness that my life seemed to have been filled with recently.

That idea was quickly put out, because there is a very fine line between bravery and suicide, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't feel any braver about dying.

Still, that encounter shook me just as badly as… well, pretty much every other encounter with anypony or anything else I remember. But it was just as confusing as well, and possibly more unsettling.

What had he meant, 'kill to remember'?

I almost scoffed aloud at the idea as I walked, dragging the crowbar with me. I was no killer, such a thought was utterly ridiculous.

And then I remembered the blood on the crowbar, and quickly felt like I was going to be sick again. All the bounce went out of my step, and it made me think. Maybe – maybe I had killed somepony. Maybe I had killed a foal. Maybe I had murdered –

I retched, my empty stomach betraying me painfully. The only thing to come up was the coffee, and that burned quite a bit. I hacked and coughed, reeling over the sidewalk until it was all out of me. I spit and wiped what I could from my face with the crook of my elbow, shuddering and trying to blink the sudden headache away.

I felt so foul. I knew, I knew when I hit whatever was in the shadow that the screams sounded like fillies, and I kept swinging. That was…

But Iron Will had also said something about monsters. Monsters wouldn't give me any memories back. And that was if it was true.

I didn't remember anything more than I had before. Not that I knew, anyway. Did that mean that I had killed a monster? Knowing how weak my swings were, chances are that I only injured the… thing. I didn't even know what I had harmed, and I didn't really want to stick around after dark again to find out.

The thoughts still haunted me while I dragged myself on, looking for any sign of life. Would I really go insane if I didn't kill somepony? Somepony…

Of course, he had to have been wrong. He had to have been wrong, he probably wasn't even there anymore. Maybe it was all just an illusion.

Maybe everything since I'd first woken up was an illusion.

It sure felt awfully real, though. Every scrape, every scratch and cut stung as if they were real.

Thinking back, I guess I should have thanked him. I suppose, I mean. Iron Will didn't make things much clearer for me when I needed them, but he did provide. He gave me direction, gave me purpose. Granted, it was a horrible, awful purpose, but if I hadn't met him then chances are I probably would have just kept wandering until night came again.

Kill somepony.

I hated such a disgusting thought, but honestly doubted if I was capable of such a thing time and again. Besides, the only other living thing I'd really met was Sweetie Belle…

And of course, then my thoughts were flooded with images of using that crowbar on the filly.

I almost dropped it just from the thought, and had to stop for a breather. Giving myself a stern shake and dragging myself back to reality took a little bit. There was just no way that I could kill somepony – anypony, let alone a defenseless little filly. I think I'd rather go nuts than hurt somepony else like that.

I spent a good portion of my time investigating Ponyville.

I definitely enjoyed the daylight while it lasted – what little of it there was, I mean. Deliberately straying far away from Carousel Boutique just in case… well. Just in case. I kept up a slow but even pace through Ponyville, the streets still completely deserted. I wondered if the fog had anything to do with it, as it seemed to be never ending.

"Mommy?"

I froze mid-step, ears perked as high as they could go. I swiveled my head around quickly, searching desperately for the source of the noise. It sounded similar to the filly that had run away from me before, the one who had led me to Ponyville. I don't really know why I was so desperate to find her, why it meant so much to me. I started carefully off in the direction that I thought the voice had come from, which was down a small alley to my left…

At least, until I remembered the crowbar bouncing off my shoulder, and just what had been on my mind. Suddenly, I wasn't all that keen on getting near that little filly anymore.

That's when I heard her scream.

Caution aside, I was going to be darned if I let that filly get hurt. I charged right into the darkened alley, fiercely peering about for any sign of her. For all I knew, it could have been the same one that led me to Ponyville previously. Or maybe I was just looking for some kind of redemption for myself, something to ease the guilt of what I might have done. Holding my breath as I skidded to a halt, I held the crowbar defensively before me as I slunk deeper into the shadowy recesses. It was a long alley, with high brick walls that seemed to close in on me the further I got. Even after a full minute of walking, I still didn't reach the end, nor was it in sight.

Before long, all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat, lightly muffled by my heavy breathing. The back of my neck prickled, and I instantly regretted charging in to look for the filly.

Stupid. Stupid Fluttershy, stupid stupid stupid.

I gripped the crowbar tighter, turning to head back to the entrance. I couldn't even see it anymore for the fog, which seemed to have begun to pervade Ponyville even more vehemently than before. The unnaturally loud clop clop clop of my hooves on the cold, damp ground filled my ears, echoing a little before being stifled by the mist. It occurred to me that even if I did scream (and believe me, I wanted to) I don't think anypony could even hear me unless they were very close. The fog seemed to choke the air, like it was suppressing everything.

That's when I heard it.

Sssssscrape.

Ssssssscrape.

Sssssssssscraaaaaaaaape.

I was alone, terrified out of my wits, and had no idea where the filly had gone. And all of a sudden, I wasn't too interested anymore, either. I even froze to listen to the noise, wondering if I were only jumping at a noise that I had made. I was hoping for it, anyway. Maybe I had gotten a bit of rubbish stuck to my hoof.

The scraping ended shortly after I stopped walking. The creeping dread that I was being watched started to rise up again, which I forcefully shook off. It really might have just been a noise that I was making. I started forward ever so slowly again, the painfully loud sound of my own hooves bouncing back at me as I nearly crept toward the exit.

Ssssscrape.

Sssscraaaaape.

This time I froze hard, listening so intently that I could hear my own heartbeat.

It definitely kept going after I had stopped walking, and ended shortly after I did.

I wasn't alone.

Almost angrily at the fear I was being caused, I whirled on the spot, crowbar in hoof-

And then proceeded to nearly wet myself.

The light brings us a lot of things. Sometimes, showing us things we'd rather not see. This was one of those things.

Long, gaunt and hollow looking face was the first thing I saw poking out of the fog, followed by the rest of… it. Hardly even equine, the eyes were too large for normal and sunken deep into their sockets. Ragged patches of mane that looked to be half torn out hung limply from its head, and dirty flaps of dead skin over matted lumps of filthy fur flopped loosely from multiple spots on its frame. It's body was like that of a skeleton, and a long, wicked looking hook dangled where the foreleg was supposed to be and dragged on the ground beside it, gleaming wickedly at the jagged end.

I couldn't help it.

I screamed in panic as the thing shrieked at me in rage, revealing a row of filthy, broken teeth that were far, far too sharp. I stumbled in horror as the fear rattled every muscle in my body, and I sprinted hard for the end of the alley that I had come from. The not-a-pony released a whistling, high pitched bellow as it chased me, horrible metal hook scraping and clanging across the ground.

Ssscrape! Sssssssscraaaaaaape! Scrape scrape scrape scrapescrapescrapescrape!

I didn't look back, only cried and flapped my wings harder to escape, the banging and scratching drawing closer, closer…

In desperation, I swung the crowbar behind me; it slowed my steps for an instant, but I heard the whang! of metal meeting metal that told me that it was still swiping for me, coming faster and faster. I think the metal bar saved my life right then. I really, really don't want to think about what that hook would do to flesh.

I slammed out of the fog, crashing against the ground and dragged myself up immediately before carrying on in terror. I still heard the smashing of the awful hook against the ground as I ran, dodging left and right in the fog in hopes of zigzagging my way to safety. I don't know if it made it out of the fog as well or not, and I didn't stop to check on it.

Adrenaline coursing through my veins as I finally stopped against a dirty old wall after what seemed like hours of frantic sprinting, the scraping and screaming having long since stopped.

Well, the screaming from the… thing, anyway. I was still screaming.

I was still screaming a lot.

0-0-0-0-0

I stayed there with my back against the wall for a while, just sitting in what little sunlight there was. I had my little cry, the shaking staying with me for a while afterwards as my heartbeat finally slowed. My wingtips had started to go numb from being pushed against the wall for so long, but I didn't care. So long as I wasn't being chased by that nightmare, I could live with it.

I made sure to never let go of the crowbar after that, too.

The dirty, wretched thing had saved me on not just one, but two separate occasions. Sometimes, I guess the best defense is a good offense.

I finally got most of the shaking and jittering to die down – actually, I don't like using phrases with 'die' in them when I'm that terrified. I held down the urges to throw up and quiver, and managed to mostly calm myself at last. I wasn't in any immediate danger, and the heavy mist seemed to have grown a little thinner to allow more of the sunlight through. The old wall I was leaning against smelled of mildew, and I pulled away from it eventually.

It was a good thing that I had stopped when I did. Sort of.

The place I had stopped against seemed to be a little run down, but looked to have once been a nice little home. I hadn't realized that I'd run quite so far through Ponyville, as I seemed to be near the borders again.

Had I really crossed the entire village in one panicked jaunt? Was it really smaller than the fog made it seem, or was my mind playing tricks on me again?

Going mad.

I brushed it aside, peeking around the corner and checking the thatched roof. The windows were boarded up like all the rest, but the door was unlocked. Unlatched, even.

"H-hello?" I carefully called in, weary. I didn't want any more surprises. Chances were that even if the rundown shack was occupied, nothing good would come of it. I had really started to have a pessimistic outlook by that point, now that I think of it.

"Go away!" somepony shouted back, to which I jumped. I honestly hadn't expected the place to have any residents at all, and I was thoroughly relieved to hear the cranky sounding pony. I pushed the door open a little wider, nosing my way in.

"Excuse me?" I asked a little louder in what I hoped was a polite tone, but thoroughly thrilled that I might not be alone. "Um, I-I just need.. please – I-I just need to find somepony, I need help!"

"Go shove it," the resident replied rudely, and I furrowed my brows. Careful to latch the door behind me to prevent anything… unwanted from getting inside when I wasn't looking, I traipsed down the little hallway to a living area where the voice was coming from.

As it turned out, I was completely wrong about it being somepony. An agitated looking, withered old donkey sat in front of an empty fireplace, holding an even older looking book.

"What are you doing?" he narrowed his eyes at me dangerously, inspecting me. "This isn't your house, get out!"

"I-I can't!" I pleaded, desperate to make him understand. "The-the monsters…!"

"I said, OUT!"

"I can't!" my voice broke, and I really wanted to cry again. Why wouldn't he just listen? "It's dangerous, there-there are things outside, and it was chasing me, and I'm hurt and there was a filly and a minotaur and-and…!"

I hate it when I break down. I hate feeling so weak that I can't even keep myself together.

Got to stay together or you'll fall apart.

My eyes were hot and blotchy, and my nose started to run when I cried. Tears dripping down my muzzle, mane in my eyes. I probably looked a right mess, starting to sob in front of the angry aged donkey. I didn't mean to, I felt just awful.

And he didn't show a single sign of sympathy, whatsoever.

"I told you to get out of my house!" he started to throw the book at me, cranking back his hoof. Like I said, I was really scared. I was sick, scared sick that he would throw me out and I would be left to be eaten by monsters with terrible hook-hooves. I was afraid, and panicking, and… had a crowbar, and I-

… I'm not proud of myself.

I… did… what I did. It was my fault, really. All my fault. I shouldn't have just barged into his house, I shouldn't have trespassed because I was scared. I shouldn't have.

But it doesn't matter. Not now. It doesn't matter how sorry I am, because it doesn't change a damned thing.

I swung the crowbar at him with both hooves, and I swung hard.

He reeled with the blow to the head, falling and clutching his temple in pain and shock. His mouth hanged open in surprise and fear, his eyes wide with disbelief that anypony would strike him.

Then the screaming started.

He crawled backwards on his elbows away from me, his shouts of agony and terror making me want to cover my ears.

"No! Stop, stop!"

I hit him again, crying harder than before. So hard that it was hard to see, blurry. It stung my eyes, but I kept swinging, bringing the crowbar high over my head and letting the momentum add to the blows. I hit everywhere I could, even when he pitifully tried to throw up his hooves to stop me. Old bone cracked and broke with my heavier swings, his cries and pleas even louder.

"Please! Please! Please!" he bawled at me, and I think he was crying, too. I'm not sure anymore. "Please, stop! I'm sorry! Please!"

It was almost funny, that he was sorry. I don't know why. I was the one who was sorry. It didn't make me stop swinging, even when my muscles burned like they were on fire and I'd sobbed myself into near hyperventilation. I didn't stop swinging.

I didn't stop swinging until long, long after the screaming had finally stopped.

0-0-0-0-0

"Fluttershy?"

I watched the rainbow maned pegasus soar through the sky gracefully, much more powerfully than I could. I was a little envious of her, how easily she mastered the sky.

"Come on!" she waved after me, laughing cheerfully before doing another easy loop de loop and leaving a brilliant chromatic ray in the sky for a few seconds afterwards. "Come on, Flutters – you can do it!"

"I-I don't think I can," I shuffled uneasily, my little wings clamping tightly to my sides. "I mean, all the turning and spinning and-and so fast, I mean – I can't, I just can't! Loop de loops are scary!"

The filly landed lithely before me with a cocksure grin, and kindly patted me on the shoulder.

"You can do it, Fluttershy. I have faith in you."

"You-you do?"

"Well, duh!" she smacked her own forehead with an even wider grin. "Now come on! It just takes practice, that's all! Practice makes perfect."

"Practice makes perfect…"

0-0-0-0-0

Practice makes perfect.

Practice makes perfect.

I stared down in revulsion at the bloodstains on the floor, unsure of how long I had been standing there. From how stiff my muscles were, it felt like hours, but it could have only been seconds. The memory lingered warmly in my mind, dancing happily like a spark from a campfire through the night sky.

And it felt good.

It felt – so – good.

The adrenaline pumping through me was nothing compared to this, the sheer euphoria of returning memories. It filled my very being, made me feel so full and happy. Like everything was going to be alright, like things made sense again and everything was like it was supposed to be. It felt right.

And then I realized where I was and what I had just done, and everything came crashing right back down.

Hard.

I collapsed to the floor, bloodied crowbar still clutched tightly in my hooves as I shook. My breath came fast and hard, but the memory didn't fade. More like… settled. It took a backseat to the real word in front of me, to the horror and bloodshed that I had caused.

The donkey was nowhere to be seen.

The blood was still there, though. All over the place. On the crowbar. On the floor. On the armchair he had been resting in.

On my hooves.

I felt sick, probably worse than before. But there was nothing in my stomach anymore, I couldn't do anything aside from feel disgust and give a few dry heaves over the cold fireplace. I took a few moments to rest, taking the crowbar with me before going in search of a sink to wash off the… ick.

At first I just thought that the poor donkey's body had been kicked away or something, but it really just wasn't there anymore. I try not to think about it much anymore.

I was a little distracted before looking for a sink.

The old book, the one that the donkey had been holding when I first broke in?

I picked it up out of sheer curiosity, feeling lightheaded and numb all at once.

It wasn't just a battered old book or a journal. It was a scrapbook.

Picture after picture fell out when I picked it up, many too faded to see.

There were a lot of photographs of his wife.

Then I started to throw up again.

0-0-0-0-0

Author's Note:

Muse ~ Feeling Good