Creepypasta Collection Book 3

The Toy Museum

The city was covered with a blanket of rain. The buildings arched upward, hiding the citizens who dwell within. Higher and higher the buildings climbed, reaching heights unimagined a century earlier. Looming over all.

Between these buildings, among the back alleys, the narrow concrete paths lay obscured beneath large rippling puddles. They overflowed towards the storm drains, leaving behind only the distorted echoes of rushing water.

The puddles were disturbed as a pair of hooves crashed upon them, sending water everywhere. They did not linger long before galloping off down the alley with haste. The tiny, raincoat figure hurried through the night, her purple and pink tail streamed out behind her as she ran through the downpour. Her hooves thudded on the concrete path, occasionally muffled by the splash of a puddle.

Sweetie Belle tried her best to ignore the rain pelting her face, and the constant jostling of the near-empty saddlebags against her side. The water splashed up, soaking her legs as she ran through the numerous puddles of rainwater beneath her. She tried to ignore the annoying fact that her little white, and purple polka-dotted raincoat was highly unsuitable for this sort of weather. No, she must focus on her task tonight.

A sane pony wouldn't be out here, and a saner pony would've quit a long time ago. Not her. Sweetie Belle needed to be out here. Her parents, her sister, and she were on a vacation in Fillydelphia to visit some relatives on her mother's side, whom they hadn't seen in years. She had enjoyed the trip quite a bit. Sweetie got to see famous landmarks with her parents, and she loved shopping with her big sister. Living most of her life in Ponyville, it was an adventure in itself to experience such a big city.

***

One of the most popular tourist attractions was the city's Historic District. Fillydelphia sat on ancient grounds, its foundations laid before the time of the princesses. Beneath its modern streets lay layers of history like rings on a tree stump. What little that remained of the old city, which had survived the sands of time, had been rebuilt to resemble the past, with actors parading through the streets, along with shops recreating the food stuffs and items from a time long gone.

Their hotel was located not too far from the historic district. While returning from a shopping trip with Rarity, Sweetie happened to see an older advertisement. It was a poster, sepia in colour as it had weathered with age. What caught her attention was the dull black and white images on it, depicting a smiling, mime-like mask surrounded by toys of all sorts. Above it there was a headline that arched across the top of the poster. "Fillydelphia's Historic District Presents: A History of Toys!" At the very bottom, in tiny print, was the address.

Oh, how she had begged and pleaded for Rarity to take her, but the white unicorn had hesitated, unsure of visiting the historic district. Unlike her parents, Rarity couldn't fathom why ponies would waste their time visiting dirty old buildings that should've been condemned a long time ago. Plus, the city's Pegasi had scheduled a storm for later that evening that was said to last until the next morning. Even now, high above the city, they were at work, pushing some foreboding black rain clouds into position. However, Sweetie Belle's constant pestering had won out and Rarity reluctantly agreed to take her grousing, grumbling and groaning all the way. Once concrete gave way to flagstones, they were within the district proper. Sweetie enjoyed all the sights and along with the costumes, even Rarity had to admit that even in those times, Ponies knew how to make a visual impression.

The further they walked into the district, the more time-worn the buildings became. The derelict structures that encompassed them on all sides were old-time shops and houses made of cracked stone and rotting wood that gave the impression of caving in at any second. Whereas the previous more up-kept sections of the historic district had been alive, with greenery and paint and ponies, this place held the ambience of a corpse. No bright colours decorated the walls of the houses and no ponies cantered through the streets on their morning commute. No trees grew here, nor did there remain even a shriveled skeleton of whatever shrubbery once adorned the walls. Once upon a time, wealth and affluence had ruled this neighbourhood, but now only a hollow shell of its former glory remained.