Disaster Anon: G1; D17; Nightmare Night ACT ONE

Disaster #17: Nightmare Night a.k.a. The Dream Valley Fare a.k.a “Hope you read that Murder Mystery chapter from earlier” a.k.a. “The 3spoopy5me Halloween Special 3 ACT Chum Bucket Mega Dump Bucket ACT ONE IS SET UP, SO DON’T EXPECT SPOOKY UNTIL ACT 2 50th WEB-SHOW SPECTACULAR.”

ACT ONE

>Two more weeks, and you can take this stupid cast off of your right arm. You’ve also made progress with project weapon #17, and testing shall begin in a few days.
>There’s all the good news you have; everything else, not so much.
>Things have been very uncomfortably since the day Minty found…your catalogue.
>You felt like a total jerk with the way you lashed at Minty, and spent the night on the couch to try and think things over.
>You decided to do the adult thing, and talk about your feelings with Minty the next day at breakfast, but immediately from there, things started to feel different.
>Minty had prepared a large spread of waffles and oatmeal for breakfast while you were taking a shower, and when you walked in, you were greeted with the most beaming smile possible. There was also a newly added sunflower in a vase by the window.
>“Good morning Anon!” she said cheerfully.
>With the effort she’s had to have put in doing this, you couldn’t help but feel as though this were just a way for HER to apologize, but this really wasn’t her fault. You know she’s curious to a fault, and you shouldn’t have taken any chances leaving it on your desk.
>You sat down at the table and told her,
Minty, I’m sorry about the magazine.
>She responded with a cock of the head, and as if playing dumb, she asked you, “What magazine?”
You know what I’m talking about.
>“Sorry, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about?”
>She then grabbed the handle of a cup of syrup with her teeth, and began pouring it onto your waffles.
>You two never did mention the magazine from that point.

>It’s your 83rd day in Dream Valley.
>It took a while, but eventually you had decided if she were willing to pretend nothing had happen, there was no fault in playing along; besides, there’s more interesting matters going on right now.
>As evening came to an end, you decided to take some time to hang with Ember at the ice cream parlor to discuss an apparent migration of harpies that you’ve been unaware of. It’s there that you also find out something you’ve never heard of;
What’s Nightmare Night?
>Ember takes a hard swallow of her cherry ice cream, to begin speaking.
>“Golly wolly! Minty hasn’t told you about this?!”
The only event she’s mentioned was some kind of agricultural festival.
>“That’s the thing!”
>She elaborates as you continue licking your blueberry cone.
>“Ponies now and days don’t think about the Dream Valley Fall Fair as Nightmare Night, but that’s what it used to be called a couple generations back. I guess it’s more of an Equestrian thing, since that’s where it originated.”
>Rocky Road intervenes, leaning at the table, and asks, “Isn’t that the reason why ponies dress up like mummies or something?”
>“It’s much more than just a huge dress up game,” she says defensively, “This is the anniversary of the day that Princess Celestia saved the sun from a permanent removal.”
>Celestia?
Who’s Celestia?
>“Oooh boy, do I have a story for you two.”
>Over the next twenty or thirty minutes, Ember begins to explain this world’s scientifically inaccurate lore of the sun and moon, and the single princess that currently controls them both, Princess Celestia of Equestria. It’s an interesting tale of jealousy, and sadness, and it’s actually so interesting, that it draws in other ponies at the ice cream parlor; a small blue filly, the purple pegasus mare Star Song, and of course, Frostbite.
>“…so they decided to wear disguises to protect themselves from her phantasmic eyes, and now they’d offer her treats to protect their own flanks. It slowly spread across the globe, because, hey, everypony likes the sun, but it only remained notable in a few countries, most notably of course, Equestria. Eventually, it just turned into a festival to celebrate the yearly harvest before winter here, but don’t be surprised if you see a few ponies in outfits.”
Wow.
>The blue filly tells her, “That’s pretty nifty. I should go as a ghost!”
>“You do that little filly,” says Ember. “Any plans Anon?”
Are you kidding? The fare is tomorrow, I’ve got nothing.
>“How about…mad scientist?” asks Ember.
Brilliant! But seriously, I’ve got nothing.
>Frostbite intervenes telling you, “I uh…know somepony who happens to sew human shaped clothing. I could maybe get you something.”
That’d be nice. Thank you Frosty.
>Her blue bangs hide her blushing face as she tells you, “It’s just a maybe though.”

LATER THAT DAY.

>You return home at around 10:25.
>You should’ve been home by 8:00 at most, but you had to spend a bunch of time in the creepy, human mannequin filled home of Frosty’s friend; the orange furred, pink and purple manned, blue eyed, pink button marked earth mare Sew-and-So. You’re going to need a full frontal lobotomy to forget her uncomfortably measuring you, but hey, at least it was free.
>With a box containing your costume, you head upstairs and slowly creek open the door to the bedroom, where Minty lies in bed, seemingly asleep, but not.
>“You said you’d be home at eight,” she says in a cold tone without turning to face you.
>You place the box by the door, and slowly walk to the bed.
I’m sorry.  Would’ve been here sooner, but I’ve got a little something that one of my fans made for me.
>You lift your side of the bed’s comforter, and slide yourself in.
Her name’s Sew-and-So
 >“That’s nice. What’d she make you?”
You’ll find out tomorrow.
>“Okay then.”
>Okay then?
>She seems really off right now, you’d think she’d say something like, “Oh, please, please, please tell me,” or “Don’t make me wait a whole night,” or something, but…I don’t know.
>“Well, goodnight Anon.”
Uh, goodnight, Minty.

THE NEXT DAY

>It’s the beginning of evening, and the Dream Valley Fare has finally started to get into full swing.
>The sun is shining through the clouds, you can hear the pitter and patter of countless hooves going throughout the street, there’s a mod of ponies in all directions, you can hear the sound of a what you think is a violin, some other stiring instrment you're unfamiliar with, and a flute from a local group of musicians, and the town has more produce stands out at once then you’ve ever seen.
>It’s such a busy time right now, that the stands aren’t even all produce related. There’s desert stands, and even a few game booths set up to take advantage of the loose bits ponies are going to have. There are also a handful of costumes here and there.
>Mostly worn by foals, and business owners to seem more appealing, there’s a very surreal feeling as you see many ponies that emulations your appearance, including the special blue tulpa version, that is being worn by the original victim, Tea Lilly.
>You’d like to say she went back to normal, but its stuff like that that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise.
>Speaking of costumes,
>*knock knock knock*
Brightly, you’ve been in your room for an eternity. Do you have your costume on or what?
>It’s surprising that Brightly decided to get a costume.
>You’ve got everyone else with you right now, and aside from Ember, who is a Viking, you didn’t think anyone else would be interested enough to sport a costume.
>Finally, you hear the sound of the door’s lock being released, and it open, revealing Brights Brightly.
>There’s a small gasp that escapes your mouth, as you gaze upon her.
>She’s wearing a frilly and poofy purple dress that complements her orange fur, with a small silver tiara that has little gems in it. It looks like the exact opposite of something she’d wear.
Woah.
>“What do ya think?” asks Brighlty.
>Firefly tells her, “You look adorable,” and the others murmur in agreement.
Are…are you a princess?
>She backs slightly, and in a defensive tone tells you, “Yeah. Is there a problem with that?!”
It’s just, I-I didn’t think someone like YOU would be into that stuff. I’d assume you’d go as a zombie, or a werewolf or something.
>“Every mare wants to be a princess.”
But you’re…sssort of a tomboy.
>“I AM NOT!”
>Firefly agrees; “You kind of are.”
>Her eyes move to her left corners as she “Pfffts” at the idea.
>“So, what are YOU supposed to be huh?!”
>Really now?
>Can’t she tell from looking at you?
I’m a giant walking banana…isn’t that kind of obvious?
>“…No.”
>You roll your eyes at the statement.
If you say so. Come on guys. Let’s go get some snacks.
>You two head out of Brightly’s Sunflower Shop, back into the streets, and are immediately greeted by more and more ponies that hadn’t seen you all already. There’s also of course, the sound of many, many ponies after your friend’s money.
>There is a mare yelling out, “Fresh cilantro. More cilantro than you can handle.”
>A stallion announcing, “Chocolate dipped strawberries. Rich, decadent-”
>A purple zombie mare with a pink mane and leaf cutie mark, grabs your attention, walking in your path with a mobile “Plum-on-a-Stick” stand.
>“Plum, Mr. Anon? Only two bits.”
>Minty tells her, “I’ll take three, and carefully pours out six bits from the small coin purse around her neck.”
>As Minty gives the mare her bits, you hear the sound of children calling out for you from behind.
>“Anon?!”
>“Anon! Over here!”
>“Yoohoo?”
>You turn around to the sight of a bunch of ponies, comfortably sitting in a hayride that’s being pulled by a colt in a full body skeleton outfit. There’s a pink unicorn mare, a brown earth colt, a green unicorn mare, and three  Anon-costumed foals; one lavender with goggles and a lab coat, one yellow with a ridiculous wig, goggles, and a burgundy sweater vest, and one red wearing a wig, goggles, and a set of pajamas similar to the ones you first arrived in.
>Maybe it’s the fact that you don’t get out as much as you should, but you honestly can’t recognize any of these ponies to save your life.
>The lavender Anon’s (you think it’s a boy) asks, “Anon, can you pleeease join us on the hayride. Mr. Skeleton Pony said it’d be okay to stop for you.”
>You shrug your shoulders.
Sorry kid, I’ve barely even spent this with my friends.
>There’s a wave of disappointment, and pleading from the children.
>You don’t do well against pleading.
>Brightly nudges you forward with her hoof, and tells you, “Come on Anon. Don’t disappoint the foals.”
>You turn to the others and ask,
Everyone else okay with me leaving for a bit?
>They quickly agree, though Minty’s a bit reluctant.
Okay then. I’ll try and find you guys as soon as we make it back.
>The foals cheer as the pink unicorn lifts you through the air, and into the wagon with her magic.
>It’s a lot easier than climbing, considering the arm and all.
>Firefly tells you, “Be back soon,” with a weak wave of the hoof.
>With that, the wagon begins moving through the streets, away from your friends.
>You ask the brown colt,
So, where exactly is this going?
>“The ride goes through town and into Mystic Meadows, then back into town square for the next batch of ponies.”
Oh, okay then.
>That doesn’t sound too long. It’ll probably be 20 minutes tops.
>The yellow Anon, who you’re pretty sure is a filly says to you, “Mr. Anon. Could you maybe tell us about one of your adventures?”
>You bring your good hand too your chin to think.
An adventure? Personally, I think of them more like disasters. Okay then. Since I’m seeing Anon’s all over the place, I’ll tell you all about an interesting disaster that had me face off with an imaginary doppleganger.
>The foals “ooh” in anticipation, and after you collect your thoughts, you begin retelling the case of the imaginary Anon.
>The foals are eating it up, and as you try to explain the basics, Lily and Tea, the blue aura, the crazy missing matter, they continue to ask more and more questions about as much as they can, stretching what should’ve been a short story to the point where you actually just want to wrap thing up. You were so wrapped into this story and the many questions, that you don’t even have the chance, to stop and enjoy the multicolored trees, and fresh air of Mystic Meadow, which is sad because you all reached the meadows a while ago.
>How long has it been anyways?
>As you mention how tulpamancing became nearly extinct, you look to your watch to see what time it is.
>You all left town at around 12:23, reached the Meadows at 12:41, and have been continuing forward since then. It’s already 1:04.
>You need to question this.
…so even though we had to get rid of her tulpa, it’s still a sign that tulpamancing isn’t necessarily gone.
>You announce to the colt pulling the wagon,
Hey, Mr. Skeleton, it’s already been forty minutes.  Shouldn’t you be turning back by now?
>“He gives a gruff, “huh?”
I want to know when we’re turning back. Forty minutes to get BACK to Dream Valley already seems like too much time.
>No response.
Hey?! Mr. Bones? Is this ride going to end or what?!
>Suddenly, you feel a horrible pain in your neck, as the green unicorn stabs you with a syring. A substance is then immediately injected into your veins, before being pulled out.
What the heck?!
>Almost instinctively, you punch her dead in the face, and she falls backwards, off of the wagon and into the dirt.
What…
>You’re suddenly overcome with a horrible lightheadedness, and your vision begins to blur.
What’s going…
>In an incredibly distorted tone, you hear the skeleton one last time, and he tells you, “FOOLISH ANON. THE RIDE NEVER ENDS.”
>Your head falls back, and you soon black out.

---

>You’re jolted awake, as you feel the cold of water slam against your face, soaking into your banana suit.
>You’re in a very dim location; grey, and likely concrete in structure, aside from a wooden door in front of you, with the culprit who woke you up, the green unicorn from the hayride, levitating a bucket of what used to be water. You also find yourself, tied around the arms and legs, with the ropes all tying around the chair that you are currently trapped in.
>For the first time since meeting her on the ride, she speaks, in an accent that’s harsh, unforgiving, almost Islamic…like the assassin from two months ago!
>“Hope you had a nice sleep.”
>You try to struggle, but the pain in your arm as the ropes resist is nearly unbearable.
When I get out of here, you’re going to pay for this.
>A large katana levitates into view, at comes to my neck.
>“If you make one false move, I’ll gut you like a trout!”
>Before it can further escalate, a second voice intervenes.
>The way it sounds; calm, overly-friendly, authoritative, but still easy going with a slight foreign twang, you know exactly who it is, before you can even see him.
>“Now, now, Dustflower. There’s no need to act so rash.”
Paul Pumpkin.
>He walks into frame, wearing the skeleton outfit with the mask now hanging around his neck, and sporting a very menacing grin. The katana remains levitating by your neck.
>“Surprised to see me?”
“You’re supposed to be in jail for the next fifty years,” you say harshly.
>“Tsk, tsk, now, do you honestly expect I, Paul Pumpkin, to spend what’ll probably be the rest of my life stuck behind the bars of a jail cell. I’ve got too many plans to let that happen.”
But how?
>“I’ve a loyal order of assassins that have stayed hidden for decades. I’ve more than enough help for a breakout. Besides, when you have money like I do, it’s much easier to get…supplies.”
>His eyes glow a bright red for a few seconds, as the ropes that bind you tighten to an even more painful state.
>You try not to respond though. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
>Paul is animating the rope with his signature form of unicorn magic, yet those red eyes are a sign that he’s using more than just that. Based on your book, red eyes are a clear sign of possession, magical corruption, or dark magic based enhancement. Has anything happened to Paul?
>“I know you feel the pain. Doncha Anon. Bet that arm of yours is going to need even more time if I keep going.”
>They tighten even more, but you don’t crack.
“I’ve been through worse,” you say trying to keep composure. “So, are you going to kill me or what?”
>He chuckles a little, and the ropes loosen to how they were before.
>“Yes, but not quite yet. You see, it’s a holiday, but not just any holiday, it’s Nightmare Night, MY HOLIDAY. I’m THE colt that everyone would think about when it came to the harvest fare. I’d have pumpkin pies sell like you wouldn’t believe; workers that would perform music for the fillies; it was always that one time of the year where I could just unwind, and enjoy the company of the town that used to love me…”
>His face gets closer to yours.
>“…and I’m not going to let some second rate wannabe ‘hero’ ruin that for me.”
The guards will get you.
>“Once again, assassins! I didn’t have them killed off though. The law force is very important.”
That’s surprisingly rational.
>“Honestly, I could’ve had you dead way earlier, but you’re lucky. I’m not the type that enjoys violence, unlike my partner over here.”
>The tip of Dustflower’s katana is now touching your throat.
>“It’s a celebration though. A time to celebrate the wondrous life that our sun gives us, so tell ya what; You can simply stay here until you get a special surprise at midnight. As for me,…”
>He puts the mask back on with his magic.
>“I’ve got some work to take care of.”
>With another sharp glow of the eyes, he turns away, and walks out of the door. As it opens though, you see the outside for a few brief seconds, hinting to the location you’re at.
>There are gravestones in the distance; many, many gravestones, so you can only assume that you’re at a cemetery.
>How fitting.