Disaster Anon #10: G1; Disaster 13; Creepypasta pts. 1 & 2

Disaster #13: Creepypasta, A.K.A. The way2spooky4u Two Part Mega-Dump
PART ONE OF TWO

>Whinnyshine Valley.
>Based on the briefing given by Ember, this is apparently a very cheerful location, known for its growth and exportation of wheat. It’s also home of the world’s third largest saltlick reaching a massive thirty one feet. With 68 days and 12 disasters big and small handled, you’ve gained enough notoriety to actually gain request from ponies outside of Dream Valley. It began a couple of days ago; with a letter Minty gave you while you were having some banana bread with peach and mint juice for breakfast. You opened it, and read it aloud to her.

“Dear Anonymous,
I'm sorry if you're busy in Dream Valley, but I'm in desperate need of your help. I doubt you’d want to read the longwinded story of what’s going on; it's a very long and VERY complicated situation to explain. I’d gladly explain if you arrive to help though. The important thing to know is that the lives of myself, and everypony I know may be in ‘jeprady’ thanks to a ‘monsterous’ killer, and the authorities haven’t been able to do anything about it. I'm scared; really scared, and I don't know where else to turn. If anypony can help though, it has to be you. It'll be very dangerous though, and you may even die if you try to help, but if you save us, I'll do everything I can to repay you. It might take a while; I’m just a paper colt, but even if I have to spend the rest of my life repaying you, I’ll do it. Whatever you want, whatever the cost. If you want to help, my home is House 42, Mapleway North, in the town of Whinnyshine.
Signed, Fading Flame
p.s. Wear protection or you may find your intestines on the floor.”
Well, then…
>The temptation was too great to ignore. The comment about the intestines is a little concerning, but with the many dangers you’ve had to face, you were smart enough to get some armor weeks ago. Town blacksmith and L.A.R.P.ing enthusiast Forge Weldings, made you a very simple segmented armor vest of copper by day 36, and you’ve kept it under your clothing for disasters ever since. He’s a pretty cool stallion.

>At the moment, you find yourself walking through the glistening limestone streets of Whinnyshine with Minty.
>You’ve brought with you a briefcase of clothing, plus a backpack of supplies, and Minty has a saddle bag of mostly food and Mints.
>Heads constantly turn at your rare special presence, and curios citizens get in the way of you two, asking wither what you are, or if you’re “that brainiac from Dream Valley that fights evil,” to quote a curious pink uni-filly. This was mostly expected, so you don’t really mind.
>As you two continue walking, you tell Minty,
This is a pretty nice place. Very lush and rocky.
>Minty complains telling you,
>“I don’t like how far we are from home. It took half a day to get here. What if it was all just an elaborate rouse or something?”
Doesn’t matter, I can’t ignore a cry for help, on the off chance I’m not needed. The consequences could be devastating.
>Minty’s face turns to you, and her expression is very displeased.
>“Two weeks ago, you told me you were going to weed out unnecessary work, and now you’ve completely flapkjacked your whole view! Does this have something to do with Scruffy?
>This has everything to do with Scruffy.
THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SCRUFFY! I just wanna help the ponies that believe in me. If I can keep parts of this world from unintentional interdimensional banishment in the process, that’ll just be a plus.
>“But Anon, we’ve had troubles for years! For Golly’s sake, there was a decade long stream of assassinations and apple burning and nopony got b& from that.”
You ponies made a solution; stop eating apples. There are bigger troubles than you know Minty, and until I take care of that, Dreamland can’t sleep safely.
>Minty’s tongue presses to her teeth producing a “Tsss.”
Woman, I know you didn’t just scoff at me!
>“Tsssssssss.”
>She’s lucky your pimping hand is reserved for villains.
>You two eventually find the home of the given address; building 42 of Mapleway North. The home is fairly larger than the average house, but still similar in design; stone and wood, with a couple of lamp post at the front, but it seems almost abandoned, with the grass grown to ridiculous height, the window’s boarded up with only small slivers that one could peer through, and the entire home being in sub-par condition at best.
>Despite this, you continue across the stone path to the door, undismayed by the visuals, but when you turn behind, you see that Minty hasn’t even taken a step forward.
Minty, get your chubby flank over here.
>“Nu-uh! This place is giving me the willies.”
Well, if you say so. I guess I’ll just keep on going…alone…without a friend by my side.
>“Anon, please.”
>You begin knocking on the door.
>“Anon, I have to know that you’ll be okay.”
>The door slowly opens revealing a small green pegasus colt with a purple mane, pink eyes, and an envelope cutie mark.
You must be Fading.
>He weakly tells you, “I didn’t think you’d actually come. Thank you, Mr. Anonymous.”
>“Anon? Anon, don’t leave me,” says Minty in the background.
Call me Anon. Everyone does.
>“Please come in, I could make you some lemonade if you’d like,” he says.
I’d rather have some coffee.
>You walk into the dim living room of his home, and Fading slowly closes the door behind you. Before the door closes however, you hear the loud yell of Minty who tells you, “WAAAIT!”
>Minty tackles the door, breaking it off its hinges, and in a blur of motion, she clings onto your torso.
>“Don’t EVER leave me like that!” she desperately says as her cheek buries into your chest.
Calm down, Minty! Jeez.
>From the kitchen, Fading tells you, “Mr. Anon. I don’t have any coffee, but maybe you’d like some cocoa? It’s sort of like coffee, right?”
>You practically peel Minty off as you tell him,
I guess it’ll have to do.
>“Great, it’ll take a couple of minutes though.”
>A COUPLE MINUTES LATER.
“This is some pretty good cocoa,” you say sitting uncomfortable in the miniature chair of his kitchen.
>“Thanks,” he says with a slight blush. “My Mom taught me how to make it. She’d always use vanilla extract and hazel.”
If you don’t mind, where /are/ your parents?
>He pauses uncomfortably as his eyes move away from you.
You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.
>“No, it’s fine. My parents are a really important part of what’s going on. When my Mom…there was this thing that happens when…no, uh…”
>His head takes to the air, as he gives a frustrated groan.
>"I’m so bad at this! Sorry, but I've never been very good at summarizing without making things confusing. If it's okay, I'm just going to tell you everything. It could take a while though, so I get if you don't want me to."
>You give him a right of way gesture with your hand as you tell him,
Take all the time you need.
>Minty excitedly whispers, "I love a good story," and takes a sip of her cocoa.
>It takes a moment for Fading to mentally ready himself, but he eventually takes a deep breath, and begins speaking.
>"Let me start from the beginning, with my parents. My mother was a lovely mare. She had powder blue fur, eyes of a deep lavender, a cutie mark of a crimson sun, and a golden mane that would shine, even through the night. Her name was Sunbeam. My dad's name was Nova Fahrenheit. Everyone just called him Chief though, because he was chief of our town's fire department. His fur was a snowy white with fiery orange eyes, a blue and yellow mane, and his cutie mark was of a swirling ball of fire...For as long as I can remember, he despised me."
>Minty's expression slowly begins to blanken as he continues.
>"I looked nothing like my mother or father. A green pegasus with a purple mane, and pink eyes. The day I was born, my dad thought that I wasn't even his son. He thought my mom was playing a duet with somepony else in town, but that's not true. My mother's cousin’s aunt was a pegasus, and her great grandmother was green; she told him that's how I got my looks, but he never believed her. He thought I didn’t deserve to be called the son of the great Chief Fahrenheit; I was just a fading flame from the shadow of his greater candle. It’s kind of funny; Ironically, I /do/ think my name is actually pretty clever, especially when my dad explained it to me as a foal…*sigh*…Over time, he grew to resent my mother. He'd constantly watch over her, and force her to stay in the house as often as possible. Whenever she'd leave, he'd often argue and berate her, paranoid of what she might've been doing behind his back. As a matter of fact, the first memory I had, was of my mother being yelled at in the kitchen, after returning home with a bag of groceries. I don't remember the things he said of course; it's just a distant blur from the past, but I distinctly remember him being drunk. I never did find out where he'd get alcohol though, since it's illegal and all. You do know what alcohol does, right?”
I’ve seen my share of drunks before.
>“As you can guess, things would get pretty violent in my house. My dad would go out of his way to find reason's to hurt me. Sometimes he'd just do it because he could, but he’d just disguise that by saying it was to "build character". He was a very tough stallion, and he’d say these kinds of things would make me “tough like him”.
>His eyes lower down to his cocoa.
>“I remember once, when I was six, he tried to teach me how to wrestle… he broke my wing in the first few minutes, and it took two months before I could fly again. I didn't have it as hard as my mother though. For every beating I took, there were at least three that my mother would take for me. I still wish she had never done that. It was because of ME; it was all MY fault. It would crush my soul to see my mother, bruised and beaten, trying to hide her wounds from the town. I would’ve traded places with her any of those times, but she would always keep me out of it. I never understood why she'd do this, but she promised me to keep what happened between them personal. Maybe she thought it'd make things worse...She’d tell me to go to my room when she knew something bad was going to happen, so I'd spend most of these "episodes" in my room, door locked, and crying into my bed’s pillow. When it was all over though, my mother would always come to my room a few minutes after cleaning herself up, she'd see my miserable face, and she'd return it with a warm and peaceful smile, as if she was fine and happy. It would then always be followed by the phrase "Why aren't you smiling," and she'd try to comfort me the best that she could. She'd tell me stories, we'd play games, I'd draw for her, and if it were night, by mother would tuck me in and hum me a lullaby to help me sleep. By the end, she and I would feel much better, as if things didn't matter. Of course, it DID matter, but...you know. Where was I?...Well, um, despite all my mother did, I still hated my dad, more than anything really. When I was maybe seven or eight, my friend Dragon Lily who's grandmother had died of blissful old age. That was the day that I had finally grasped the concept of death. Her grandmother was one of the sweetest ladies I knew as a kid, and my family and I were invited to her funeral because we were very close. On that day, I saw her, still, at peace in her coffin, and despite the wave of despair and misery across the gardens, I couldn’t feel what everypony else felt, not even when she was buried in front of my eyes. I knew I should’ve been sad; I wanted to be sad, but all I felt on that day, was an overwhelming sense of envy, because I so desperately wanted that to be my father. I began craving it. The idea of my dad dying was all I could think about at home. Over time, I'd even spend my evenings fantasizing about the many ways I could kill him. Decapitation, poison, slitting his neck; most ponies don't casually think about things like death or killing, yet I was nine, and it was my favorite thing to think about. I even remember, on my tenth birthday, when mother let me cut a piece of my birthday cake, I was SO close to gouging my father's eye with the knife between my teeth...but I didn't. I was still just a disappointingly weak foal, and too afraid to try anything against someone as strong as my dad…This is where things began to get weird. As the years passed, my mother began to...change. It seemed like every time my father would hurt her; every time he'd insult her, her fur would get a little more dark than the last time, and her hair would slowly loose its shine and tone. It took a couple of years for me to notice, but by the time a decade passed, her light blue fur was as dark as the midnight sky. Ponies would question it all the time, but she’s never explain what was happening, she’d just smile, and laugh about the whole thing, as if it was a joke. So...the point of all of that was to tell you this. A few days before my eleventh birthday, my dad was a bit more drunk than usual, and my mom got caught in another one of their arguments. I had invited my friend Confetti to join, and her dad Streamer offered to drop by and help decorate. My dad never liked how friendly Streamer was. Like always, I was in my room, pillow around my ears, waiting for it to stop. It took a few minutes, but eventually, the house had quieted down, and as expected, my mom came to my room for a visit. She opens the door, and with an unusually large grin, she looks to me and asked, “Why aren’t you smiling?” She knows why, she’s always known, I don’t get why she always has to ask that. I look to my mother, with a very displeased expression, she then came to my bedside, and with an oddly unsettling grin asked, “What do you want for your birthday?” I’ve never had the nerve to actually say it before, but I was getting older, and I wasn’t as afraid of my Dad as I was when I was a foal. I wasn’t sure she understood how much I didn’t like Dad, so I…”
>His eyes close painfully, and he stops to take a deep breath.
>“I told my mother that I wanted to defend her. I know I’m not the tallest colt around, and yeah, I’m not very strong, but I hated having my mother fight my battles for me. /I/ was the problem, not her. Sunbeam  told me, “Do you really want your father to hurt?” I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to feel the pain that he had put my mother and I threw. The fact that she’d even question that baffled me. I told her, “I’d kill him if I could, but I know I could never do something like that. If I could at least fight him though, then that’d be a pretty good gift.” Her smile stretches farther than I had ever seen it, and her eyes widen as she looks to me. It gave a weird, unsettling feeling down in the pit of my soul, as if she was waiting for me to try and fight him all of these years. I didn’t tell her how uncomfortable her smile was making me; she is my mother after all. I just tried to ignore it.”
>On the day of my eleventh birthday, at some point during midnight, I wake up in shock, as my ears are filled by the sound of a sharp, and horrible wail that I’ve never heard before, and almost can’t recognize. I come to the realization though, as the voice calls out to the heavens for help, that it’s actually the voice my father. I had never heard him scream before. Over these years, he seemed like the embodiment of dominance; a rock that could walk into a burning building without hesitation; so to hear him actually scream for help, brought a chill up my spine, as if something horrible was happening. I thought of hiding under my bed at first, but my mom could’ve been in just as much trouble as Dad, and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t checked on her. I had a small paper knife in my room for when I’d do crafts with my mom, so I decided to take it into my mouth, and slowly walk to my room’s door to take a look outside. The entire time, there is a faint growl-like noise is coming from the halls replacing the now silent noise of my father. I thought to myself, that it may have been some kind of wild animal. I cracked the door open, inch by inch until I could finally see what’s outside in the hallway. I look to the distance and see the backside of my mother, perched over to the floor, motionless. I slowly exit, and walk over to her, the knife still clenched tightly around my teeth in case something happens. I make it a couple of feet from her, and…”
>He sniffles a little, and gives a hard swallow, choking on his own sentence.
>“and…underneath my mother…was the mangled, and mutilated corpse of my father, Nova Fahrenheit. His stomach was torn open; revealing his entrails across his side and onto the ground, there was a hole that went through half of his neck, as if a dragon had bit into him. Blood was everywhere from him body, and soaking deep into the coffins, and I begin backing away at the horrible sight. The knife drops from my mouth, and I begin screaming at the top of my lounges, before my stomach churns, and I begin to vomit onto the floor. I had always looked forward to the possibility of my father dying morbidly, but to actually see it in real life was HORRIFYING. As the content of my stomach empties, I look back up, to see that my mother had risen, and in the most casual manner, she turns to look at me. Her eyes were now a pure green and gave off an unnatural aura around her face, her pupils glowed with a bright red that pierced the darkness, her mouth curled unnaturally into a twisted grin that I’d never even think possible, and her mouth was full of what almost seemed like rows of sharp and crooked teeth, with bits of flesh and the red stain of blood decorating it along with her chin. She looked me deep in the eyes and in almost a whisper, she says to me, “Why aren’t you smiling?” I ran. I ran as fast as I could away from them and leaped out of the window of my room, to sprint to the town guards for help. I didn’t stop for anything, and I sure as hay didn’t turn my head back to see if she was behind me. There were already ponies coming to the house with all the noise me and my dad caused, but it wasn’t until a few minutes later until I got actual guards to come and investigate. There was a small crowd of ponies at my house by the time we had gotten to my home, but even with many ponies being there less than a minute after the murder, nopony knew what happened to my mother. She was gone. After three days of searching, everyone just came to the conclusion that Sunbeam left town immediately, to get away from the authorities, but I know that’s not true…Sometimes, when it’s especially dark, and I’m lying in bed, unable to sleep, a horrible chill comes down my spine, and I hear a familiar lullaby being hummed next to my ear, and I lay there, motionless, afraid of what may happen if I turn my head. This has been going on for months.”
>We sit there in an uncomfortable silence until you tell him,
Are you sure you want her handled? Your father IS taken care of after all.
>“My mother KILLED a colt. I hated my father, but what we want, and what we do are two completely different things…I don’t want to say it, but she’s a criminal now, she’s unstable, and this is all for her own good. Besides, I had a sleepover with Dragon Lily last week to get away from home, and Lily woke up screaming after a “horrible nightmare”. I don’t want this to be a thing with my friends, and if ponies find out about her, I can’t even imagine what may happen.”
I see.
>You get up, pick up your backpack by the chair, and set it on the table.
This sounds like some pretty serious stuff to handle. I brought a homemade lachrymatory bomb, but tear gas won’t be enough for lovecraftian super-creatures. Superstitious luck isn’t going to cut it either. Please find me a shovel, and for the love of god, get me some coffee.

PART TWO OF TWO

~~~Later that night.~~~
>As the hours pass, the early evening of your arrival slowly transition into the darkness of night.
>You feel pretty prepared.
>You have your tear gas, your awkward copper torso armor, a shovel, and enough coffee to keep a man hocked up for days.
>In addition, Minty and fading get their own goggles to keep them from being blinded.
>By 10:23, Fading’s in bed, not asleep, but waiting for his mother, Sunbeam. Minty and I wait by his side.
>You really wish Minty had just left for a hotel, but she refuses to leave you on your own. You knew you should’ve brought Firefly.
>Hours pass, and several more cups of now room temperature coffee are swallowed, as you three wait impatiently for something to happen.
>It’s been very silent for most of this, but when 2:34 hits, you finally decide to ask,
Are you sure she’ll be here while we’re around?
>“She usually appears when I’m supposed to be asleep,” says Fading.
>Minty never stays up past 9:30, and this is clearly reflected in the cranky tone she gives as she tells Fading, “Maybe you just imagined her.”
>“No, I didn’t!” he says defensively, “I know what happened. Nopony else may have seen her, but I did,” he says in protest.
>“You saw her ONCE, and you never even checked after that. Maybe this is just a bad case of para…parapa…pa?”
Paranoia?
>“Yeah, that stuff!”
>A light bulb suddenly turns on in your mind, as the tension begins to rise in the room.
She has a point, have you even gotten a psychoanalysis from a professional?
>“N-No?”
Well that’s no good. Without proper psychological study, you could be walking around with a laundry list of neurological problems. PTSD, advanced delusional tendencies, maybe even (pause for dramatic effect) dissociative identity disorder.
>Fading tells you, “I don’t know what any of those are.”
>“Neither do I,” adds Minty.
Dissociative identity disorder makes sense. YOU could’ve been the one who killed your father.
>“That’s impossible! It was my mom, honest! I saw her with my own two eyes.”
You wanted to kill your father, but your own morals prevented you from doing so. To keep a sense of purity and innocence, you created a second personality separate from your own; a separate self that could kill your father for you.
>He begins scooting back in his mattress until his head touches the floorboard.
>“But what about my mother?”
Without you, there’s no confirmation when she may have gone missing. It’s possible that you killed her first, and hid the body in advance. You were never able to cope with what you did though, so your subconscious created the delusion of her haunting you. Her body’s probably hidden somewhere in the home.
>“But…But, the teeth marks were so-”
Minty, help Fading Flame up. I think we should take a trip to the guards.
>Minty obediently follows, and pulls away his covers with her teeth.
>“WAIT, THIS ISN’T RIGHT!”
>She then gets onto her hind legs, and begins pulling at his torso to force him up, his limbs flail in protest to keep her at bay, she’s even smacked a couple of times, but she slowly begins to work her hooves around him.
>“GET AWAY FROM ME! I’M NOT CRAZY!”
It’s no use Fading, there’s nothing you can do about this.
>As she finally throws him off the bed, he screams out,
>“SOMEPONY, PLEASE HELP!”
>Only then do you feel that sudden horrible chill referenced in Fading’s story. It brings a small smirk of satisfaction.
Bingo.
>You turn around and swing your shovel without any hesitation.
>Before it can even make a complete swing, the blade of the shovel gets lodged into the many teeth of what could only be Sunbeam.
>Fading’s description was pretty accurate, but I wish he would’ve mentioned her size. She’s nothing close to the size of the average adult mares that you’ve seen. She’s practically the size of an actual horse in your world.
>Minty and Fading Flame jump back, screaming in shock and fear.
>As her piercing red and green eyes looks into yours, her immense weight sends you slowly back into the wall, and you can hear the cracking noise as small chips of wood begin to separate from your shovel’s base.
>Taking a risk, you remove one hand, and reach into your lab coat, pulling out your lachrymatory bomb.
>It took a whole three hours with your chemistry kit and a few supplies from ‘Sparkleworks’ Festivity Emporium’, so this better be worth it.
I knew you couldn’t resist helping your son. With all due respect, you must be a pretty cool mom.
>You pull the pin with your teeth, and push the bomb onto Sunbeam’s face.
>In a couple of seconds, the entire thing detonates, quickly filling the room, in a dense, white, eye burning mist.
>Good thing you gave the others goggles.
>Sunbeam gives an ear bleeding screech, as she backs away, with her eyes squinted in searing pain. You then step forward, and swing the shovel across her face, sending her to the ground.
This is going to be the second worst choice you’ve made with your life.
>You bring the shovel down for her skull, but Sunbeam dodge to your right, and in that moment, you see her mouth practically unhinge open, so wide that her face almost looks up to the ceiling. She lunges forward, and like a shark, her jaw clamps down around your unprotected right bicep.
>You yell in horrific pain as her teeth pierce through your sleeves, and clean into your flesh, connecting, and chipping at the bone.
>The shovel remains in your left hand, but you can’t get a good swing with just one hand, so you drop it, and begin punching her snout desperately to get her teeth out of you.
>The pain is near unbearable, and it feels like your arm is about to unhinge from its own socket, but as the third swing comes you give it all of your might and break her snout.
>Her mouth finally opens to give a ghastly wail, and you’re only barely are able to move your arm out. You begin to feel the lower half of your arm going numb as blood begins to run down and off your fingers, but you at least still have feeling in the upper half, which is a horrible stinging and burning sensation that you can barely stand.
>You try your best to ignore your arm, and deliver a powerful kick straight to her jaw, cracking a couple of her teeth.
>She coughs up a profuse amount of both yours and her blood, onto your face and dirty mop hair, before backing away, and falling in a state of pure disorientation.
>With an opening, you lower to grab the shovel, and deliver another swing across her face.
>As she falls to her side, you bring the shovel above your head and swing it down as powerfully as you can with a messed up arm. Just when it seems the shovel’s going to collide though, her horn glows with a bright silver aura, and body suddenly drops through the floorboards, escaping from the room.
Damn it!
>Your head turns throughout the room to try and see where she’s going to come, but you have no idea whatsoever.
>You look to the door to see if she’s hiding there, before you hear Fading scream to you in the corner, “ANON! LOOK OUT!”
>You turn around, and see Sunbeam’s upper torso, through the wall behind you.
>With another piecing screech, she rushes through the wall for you.
>You try to swing at her with your shovel, but she pushes the blade away with her horn.
>She then rams into you, sending you flying backwards, until you feel the heavy and painful thud of your skull colliding to the ground. Sunbeam’s hoof then comes down hard to your stomach, cracking the armor before eventually pinning you under her massive body weight.
>Maybe it’s the collision, or the blood loss, or maybe the fact that your lounges are going to collapse, but things begin to slowly go dark. Sunbeam’s green and red eyes pier into your soul, as a twisted and malicious grin comes to her face. The last thing you see before things go black, is her mouth as it unhinges.
>…
>…
>What now?
>This should be the part where you’re dead, right?
>The darkness around you suddenly gives way to a bright light in the distance, barely a quarter in size, but still alluring none less.
>You realize you are standing now, still in your clothing from earlier, but you no longer feel the pain in your right arm, and your sleeves aren’t torn and stained with blood.
>Unable to fully grasps what’s happening, you do the only thing that compels you at the moment, and walk towards the light.
>It takes a few minutes, as the quarter sized aperture begins to grow, more and more, until eventually, it envelops your entire vision. You continue though, until from the light, a new environment begins to manifest.
>Slowly, a green and beautiful field of grass and flowers begin to form, and the white background soon turns to a surreal pink. As you walk onto the grass, a white figure forms at the horizon, which looks as though it may be another human.
>You get closer, and as its visuals become clear, you realize it’s not just an average Joe, or even someone you knew; it was an Anon, in an eggshell white suit, with spotless white shoes, and a white masks.
>In an echoing, yet soft and calming voice, he tells me,
>“Anon, come to me.”
Are you…god?
>You continue walking.
>“Come my fellow anon.”
>You make it only a couple of steps away from the anon, and your left hand begins to nervously motion towards his mask, to see if he’s real or not.
>As you come only inches away from touching him, in a swift, and very painful motion, he backhands the right side of your face, sending you falling to the grass like a punk b@#ch.
WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!
>“I should ask you the same! What kind of performance was that?! You’re supposed to be the disaster Anon. That guy who’s destined to save this world from darkness.”
>You get up, with your hand on your very raw cheek.
I tried, I really did, but this kind of junk isn’t easy for just one guy. Who are you anyways?
>His voice calms itself again and he tells you, “I am Anon 2748739, the first ever human to defend Dreamland, over seven hundred years ago. I kept the nation safe for over thirteen decades, before I transcended to a higher level of existence. I know watch over every human that comes to this world. You are currently the ninth that arrived in Dreamland, and 47th overall.”
Ninth?
>This Anon, Scruffy, Megan, Molly, Danny, Myself.
I only know six.
>“Well, that’s your problem, now isn’t it?” he says with what you’re sure is a sheepish grin under his mask.
So, what now?
>“I am not allowed to directly interfere with your world. I am at most a phantom to them now. I will warn you though; the human that you call Scruffy is still very much alive, and I am counting on you to stop him. You need to be ready Anon, and if you really do care about Dreamland, you need to be willing to take your life. Do you think you can do that?”
>You take a deep breath, and with very little confidence tell him,
It is worth selling my life to save the lives of many.
>His obscured grin grows larger.
>“I must say, you’re quickly growing to be my favorite human in Dreamland. Now, go take care of that Sunbeam lady.”
>The world begins to fade away into light, and the last thing you hear from Anon is, “Oh, and if you die on me, I’m slappin’ yo s#%t when you get back here.”
>The light takes over your surroundings, and Anon disappears. A faint noise is then heard, but gradually gets louder. It’s the sound of tumbling, and screaming. As it grows, you soon realize that it’s Minty.
>Your eyes burst open to the ceiling as you reach consciousness on the floor of Fading’s room.
>Your head immediately darts over to Minty’s yelling, and you find her tumbling across the ground, with Sunbeam in a head lock.
>Dear god, she can’t even open a pickle jar without you. She’s going to die if you don’t do something!
>You grab the nearby shovel, and despite the horrible pain coursing through your body, force yourself to your feet, using the shovel as a crutch until you get your balance. As this happens, Sunbeam finally gets to her hooves.
>Minty continues choking her as she screams, “Nopony gets Anon, ya dumb, spooky, scary-”
>Before she can finish her sentence, Minty’s knocked off to the ground. She tries to get up, only for Sunbeam to drives her hooves deep into her ribs, bucking her into the wall. She gives a slight squeaking yell as the air is knocked out of her.
>Sunbeam turns around, ready to attack, but hesitates as her peripheral vision catches you moving forward.
>She tries to turn back to you, but by the time she does, it’s far too late.
>You bring the blade of the shovel down to her skull with all of your might, and you hear the satisfying crack of her horn shattering before the blade slams into her entire skull, causing a very slight dent to form in the metal.
>You yell in pain from the shock that runs through your arm, but it’s drowned out from the noise of Sunbeams horrid wail.
>She falls to the ground, curled up, and continuing to wail as blood begins pouring out from her horn.
>You learned from your research that a unicorn’s horn is made with an important material known as carbonated magufonatized hydroxyapatite; it’s an essential conductor for the difficult to decrypt, mentally facilitated, semi-ectoplasmic aura that is a pony’s inherent “magic”. No horn, means little to know magic.
>Without proper magic, Sunbeam’s monstrously transformed body begins to shrink slightly as her extra flesh begins to slowly dissolve.
>Despite the pain she’s going through, Sunbeam’s wailing quickly stops, as her vision sets to her son, in the corner of the room, tearful, and very afraid as he looks to her.
>Slowly, the corners of her mouths raise only a couple of inches, and in the sweetest tone she asks her son, “Why aren’t you smiling?”
>Collectively, Sunbeam’s form dissolves away, revealing the powder blue mare that Fading had truly grown with.

>It’s been 10 hours since what happened at Fading Flame’s home this morning.
>With surprisingly manageable injuries, Sunbeam was put into the psychiatric center of Whinnyshine’s jail for heavy observation, isolation, and intense therapy. Without a horn, there are no concerns for her using magic, but there is the fear that her horn may grow back. She wasn’t cured after all, just inhibited.
>Fading’s been in a deep depression since what happened. He still feels that everything that happened was his fault for being born, but you’ve at least convinced him to get therapy to cope with himself. He has no regrets over his choice of hiring you.
>Speaking of hiring, you didn’t have the heart to actually charge a foal with a paperboy’s salary, but Minty did persuade you on at least taking his father’s two platinum firepony trophies so you could at least sell those. (Gold is small time.) Maybe now, you can finally have a bed to sleep in.
>As for you and Minty; you were hospitalized immediately after with a cracked humerus, severe nerve damage, and intense amounts of bleeding. You’ve now got horse blood flowing through your veins, and you’re on a ton of anestetamnsdklnav…you have a lot of drugs flowing through you to numb the pain. Minty’s of course has been by your side since you arrived.
>She’s a good pony.
>As you lie in your medical bed, alone at the moment with Minty who’s next to you in a chair, you remember something important,
Minty, I forgot to mention. When I was knocked out on the ground this morning, I was visited in my dreams by the first ever human in Dreamland. He told me Scruffy was real, and that I need to be ready. It was an out of body experience beyond space and time itself.
>“Are you sure that wasn’t just from all of the blood loss?”
Don’t undermine me jelly flank, I know cosmic anon people gods when I see them.
>A large grin comes to her face as she tells you,
>“That’s just the ‘anastetics’ talking.”
Whatever.
>Minty’s hoof slowly runs through your hair and in a sincere tone, she tells you, “You are such an amazing human.”