FSE

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Escaping the feuding orchestra downstairs, the distraught girl ran to the sanctity of her own room. A pariah of her own home, the wooden door and drywall walls provided the modicum of soundproofing she needed to escape her feuding parents.

Still, it wasn't enough, and grabbing a pillow off the bed, she tried to shield her brain from the ear-raping words. But the vile words came continued blaring through the cloth shield.

“Fucking… Whore!"

“Drunk… Retard!

“Slut!"

She couldn't take it anymore. Frustrated, she threw a pillow across the room, knocking her clock off the nightstand and sending it shattering to its demise on the wooden floor. Her hands instantly went to her ears as she plead for the cacophony to stop. But, it never did.

It went on for hours, and every hour, she could feel one of those glass shards from the clock getting close to her own neck. Until finally, at last, it was there, a hard shard so close to her neck that it made it difficult to swallow without choking.

Just one quick swipe and she could silence death's awaiting chorus. Just one swipe and she could enjoy the silence she'd begged for most her life. Just one swipe, looking up to the nighttime sky out her window, and she could join the stars in their crimson glory. It was really just that easy.

But her hand trembled. Do it! Her hands screamed. Do it! Her brain screamed. Do it! Her will to live screamed. But something stopped her. Looking up to the starry sky, she reconsidered as she looked outside her window to witness a descending star that showered beautiful glitter as it made its glimmering descent to earth. Immediately, she dropped the glass shard and it fell to the ground in her defiance to the doors of death.

“Oh God!" she screamed in joy, “Please! Stop the fighting! Stop it! Make it so everything will be alright!" But the star didn't listen, it just continued its journey down the midnight sky as it shot off tendrils of light during its journey.

“Don't leave me!" she shouted, “Please, come back! I need you!" Still, the star didn't listen and continued its trek through the raven-slated sky.

Looking up at the blanket of stars in the nighttime sky, she realized the stars were laughing at her. Laughing! Once more, she could feel the glass coming closer to her neck.

But then, perking her ears up, she suddenly realized that she was hearing only in the mute aurora she had asked for all her life. Putting her ear to the cold, hard floor, she heard nothing but silence. The fighting had finally stopped.

In her relief, she skipped, jumped, and froliced into an awaiting bed. Why, the bed had already been made for her and was waiting for her with open arms. At last she could sleep with without her ears stuffed full of cotton, earbuds, or pencil erasers. She was at last free of that horrendous clamor that plagued her every night. So, grabbing the comfort of her blankets, she slipped into a peaceful snooze.

What she didn't realize, though, was outside the stars were still chuckling at her. Chuckling that soon grew to laughter. Laughter that soon grew to all out hysteria. The midnight sky quickly became a more furious orchestra than her parents, playing the boisterous song of deceit.

Laughing, the long line of stars that trailed soon became a beautiful mane that quivered to the dark zephyrs that blew faintly past. The blank canvas of the night sky twirled to become a beautiful onyx coat and the constellations to become elegant hooves that graced the gorgeous horizon. The most stunning feature; however, was the star that shot across the dome of dusk, constantly spitting out sparks of sadistic pleasure as it made its pass.

That star was the fire that burned in the devil's heart that burned only to arrogate free will. That star was greed's contortion into torture and twisted only to defy respite. That star was the eye of the Night Mare, whose powerful “clip-clop" of hooves spoke of certain, ill-fated horror.

#

Quietly, the black smoke wafted through the twinkling sky. Gravitated towards an open window that spelled invitation, the small cloud of horrors rained the coal-colored drops of black goo that soon materialized into the devil's stallion.

The horse silently looked over to observe the bed's prisoner. He observed her heart quietly pitter-pattering against a gaunt chest with joy. The mare smiled at this. He was just happy she was happy, for it was soon about to be so much better.

The mare walked around the bed to further observe his lover. As he trotted, black hoof prints stained the ground with smoky ash as he slowly crept towards her lithe form to see her face. He wanted to have a view of her face before he started the fun.

She turned over. Darn, he would have to go the other way.

Trotting gently, his soft “clip clop"s accidentally stirred the resting girl and she sat up rubbing her eyes. The mare dematerialized into smoke and the girl was left staring at the broken clock briefly wondering how, despite being shattered, it still made the familiar “tick-tock" she knew all too well. She laid back down in bed.

The mare rematerialized and then chuckled through flared nostrils. So that's what she looked like. Cute.

Scraping his hooves against the pavement with a soft tap, the blankets stirred to life. Gradually, the long blankets coiled themselves into long snakes that slithered against her lithe form.

Cloth scales scraped against her resting body as slithering-sheets wriggled around her to secure every limb. Once that was finished, the cloth tentacles looked up at their master for permission to continue, which he whinnied in pleasure to.

#

Instantly, the animated cloth tightened around every limb, squeezing them of life as the girl went wide-eyed as if a plea for mercy. She tried to scream, but coiled blanket around her neck strangled the desperate syllables. Wrestling proved worthless against the cloth snakes as well, as they seemed to find delight in squeezing harder every time she tried to pull away.

Defied escape, she was forced to sit as the world slowly went black and the last bit of oxygen was coaxed from her body by sour misfortune. She closed her eyes. Of course fate was too selfish to give her just one night of peace as she began slipping into death's coma.

Suddenly, her entire body was sent spiraling into the wall as the wallpaper soon peeled to restraining her the trembling girl. She tried to scream, but her lungs hurt too much with the pain of broken ribs.

“Shush child. Really now, hush, hush," The mare whispered, finally allowing her to see his grinning face stained midnight and his eyes that glowed red.

The girl looked away and closed her eyes, she didn't want to see the approaching face of death.

“You look awfully tangled there. Would you like out?" the mare asked concerned.

The girl nodded.

“I can help," the mare insisted.

The girl swore the unnatural smile was now going past his neck.

The mare continued, “Here, I have knife, you can cut yourself loose. All you have to do is grab it."

The mare opened his mouth. It was an endless hallway of sharpened teeth that she grimaced just to look at. But, down past a long, red carpet of horse tongue, the girl saw it: a gleaming knife that laid in the back of the stallion's throat, soaking in boiling saliva. Above it hung a uvula that hung threateningly like a sharpened stalactite.

“Sorry," the colt apologized, “But, y'know, it's hard to hold things when all you have are hooves. But I've been working on my gag reflex, for eating… Oh well, I'm sure you'll be fine."

Suddenly a single hand came loose from the wallpaper's embrace and the mare looked at her in expectation.

“Just grab it," the mare repeated firmly.

With no other option, the girl sunk her hand past onyx lips as the stallion patted her arm with a forked tongue to assure her everything would be alright as her hand made its deep descent. Saliva coated her arms as the rigid tastebuds rubbed her traveling arm raw as it treked down the moist cave to grab ahold of freedom. But, as she got closer, the colt hacked loudly and the sharp teeth lacerated her arm, blood staining the mare's white fangs.

“Thorry, I couthed, “ the mare apologized, the colt's large tongue pressing into her wounded arm with every syllable. But the saliva did little to comfort. In fact, it burned like magma as it proceeded into her cuts and the girl was forced to grind her teeth to push her hand any further.

“Just get it over with!" she screamed in her head.

Summoning the courage, her hand leaped forward to grasp the sharp knife she had long sought. Then, she felt it. The sharp blade cut into her hand, but she didn't care, she was nearly crying out of joy with this victory. But, why was it so squishy?

Oh no.

The mare suddenly began to gag and sputter, each cough sending layers of sharp teeth into her arm as it oozed crimson in thick clumps. She cried aloud as she felt her heart trying to cut its own throat with a shattered rib just to escape the unbearable pain of her arm being sawed off.

Then, the mare's stomach began to rumble as his vile fluids sputtered from his throat like hot tar, the black ooze of molten intestines began to cling to girl's prisoner arm. The bile tar slowly began to eat away at the flesh that still clung to her arms it made its way to the appetizing, bone filling.

#

The mare suddenly gasped for breath in the midst of puking and the girl saw this as her opportunity to escape, yet, the onyx ooze clung to skin and prevented escape as the mare came down for the his next hard sputter: that one the one that cut through bone.

The girl didn't have much time to mourn her loss, however, as the mare hacked up puke against her writhing form against the wall. The ebony tar burned through the wallpaper and onto her flesh, as the tortured female collapsed to the floor to the utter agony that maladied her bones.

“Oh whoops," the mare apologized, “Sorry... I think I still feel it in there though! I'll give it back, don't worry!"

The mare opened his mouth and the black slime trailed through the gaps of teeth onto the floor as a large bone trailed downwards with it.

“Whoops…"

The girl was crying now. But it was okay. Maybe the tears down her face would subside the uncontrollable burning.

“Don't cry, don't cry," the mare leaned over and licked away the tears with a forked tongue.

“Don't cry, I can get you out of here," the mare continued, “Do you see that clock over there?"

The girl's gaze turned towards the clock that still laid prostrate on the wooden floor.

The mare looked back at her with a gaze that seemed to tick-tock itself, “Fix it, and I can get you out of this and you can return to the parents that love you so much," he continued, his bright red eye a lusting fireplace, “I'm waiting."

The girl instantly sprung from the floor, past the midnight stallion, and towards the shattered clock. The floor splintered before her and wooden shards drove themselves into her foot with every step. But she just had to make it.

But, in her dash, she tripped, and the wooden spikes knitted through her tender flesh. But using her own blood as lubricant, she slipped free and continued to run.

She picked up the dead clock and examined it briefly. She turned it around and twisted the dial, but it spun freely without friction. Fuck, the gears must have fallen loose.

Quickly, she began to undo the latch the held shut the doorway to the clock's intestines. But, before she could undo the latch, her hair sprung to life and wrapped around the clock she was desperately trying to open.

She tried pulling it off, but it clung with the intensity of rope and had no signs of coming loose. So, taking a deep breath, she pulled with all her might. One by one, her hair plucked free as she played an agonizing tug-of-war with her own hair. She continued until at last her blonde hair fell to the floor and the only thing left to cover her head was blood.

Then, at last, she opened the latch only to find the insides hollow of any gears.

There were no gears in the clock!

“It's not fair! It's not fair!" the trembling, blood-coated girl cried out with her injured lungs as she heard the agonizing “clip-clop"s one by one approaching. She patted her blood-soaked head and her trembling eyes stared at a crimson-soaked hand.

Her eyes' journey continued downward to graze over at the wooden splinters that coated her body and the bloody stump where her arm once was. It dripped a steady stream of blood with no signs of stopping.

The “clip-clop" was right behind her now. Taking a deep breath against the ribs that stabbed her bloated lungs. she turned ready to accept the face of death. She turned around and opened her lone arm for the embrace of death.

But, the room stood empty.

The tears rolled down her cheeks and she pounded the only fist she had against her head. It wasn't possible. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. She banged harder and harder until her fist became a pendulum against her skull.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

Would it just end!? She banged even harder and the pendulum continued its steady beat.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

“Just kill me!"

Ring, ring ring!

#

The alarm clock blared her awake. She awoke in the comfort of her bed to a sun that pulsed with life. She took a breath free of free of pain and as she went to pat her head, both her hands came together to pat a full head of hair as crisp as the sun.

She looked over to her side and the clock gave off the repeated tick-tocks that reassured her she was alive. Taking the clock in hand, she ran downstairs. She had fixed it!

She had to show her parents. She just had to.

“Mom!" she cried out.

“Dad!?" she screamed.

No answer.

She scurried into the kitchen. No one.

Then, she opened their bedroom to find it plagued by an unfamiliar silence. She cracked it open.

Inside, she found the room, once white, stained red as a result of her own parents feuding. The blood of her parents draped the shredded wallpaper and glass coated the splintered wooden floor. The bed was in shamble, coated in white splooges and golden hair.

In the corner of the room was the arm of her mother, still clutching firm on a knife and the rest of her corpse draped the wall. Her head was maladied both by gory baldness and her neck bruised. Her chest was beaten in, and the shredded clothes that draped her crippled body had holes created by brutal, skin-piercing acid all over the room. And her father, nowhere to be found.

And suddenly, the girl knew why the cogs from her clock were missing.

_ Clip, clop._