*
Fluttershy looked across the room at all her animals. From the mice to the birds to the pink fairy armadillos to the tapirs and the jerboas and the face-eating scorpions and all the rest – she passed them, whispering a soft goodbye.
Upon her back was a knapsack. It was one normally used for backpacking – regular saddlebags just couldn’t hold the things she was bringing along with her, and even then, the bag was so full that its contents looked about ready to break free and run screaming down the pavement, away from their cruel lodgings.
She waved a wing, after a brief struggle to get it free from beneath its heavy load, stopping next to her one primary permanent resident – Angel bunny – to have a few quick words.
“Now, Angel. Do take care of the house for me while I’m gone, okay?” She smiled, with the timidness of a shadow when shown the light. “Y-you’re the stallion around here! So… so, it’s up to you to make sure everything goes right!”
Angel tapped his big old bunny foot repeatedly, arms folded across his masculine, lapin chest.
Fluttershy winced. “Yes… I know. Again. I promise to make you an extra super-special meal when I get back!”
Angel tilted his head.
“W-when I get back…” Fluttershy repeated, mumbling.
She threw her hooves up into the air; the pose of innocence.
“I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I know I’ve been going out a lot lately! My friends need me. There’s always something or another going on, like Applejack’s Apple Fiesta or Pinkie Pie’s Pink Grapefruit Carnival, y-you know, when she tried to outdo Applejack the following week, and then things got messy for a while and Rarity had that breakdown when she lost a hair and… and…”
Angel glared.
“... and recently, Rainbow keeps flying into things and breaking different parts of her body and…”
Angel glared more.
“Oh, Angel. I’m sorry,” Fluttershy lowered her head between her legs, speaking directly to the floor now. “It’s important this time. My good friend Twilight is having problems. Serious problems. She called me over to help because… because everypony else is busy and Rainbow is in the hospital again.”
Angel rolled his eyes.
“I know it sounds like a cheap excuse!” Fluttershy wailed, clutching onto Angel’s shoulders. “But it’s true! It really is! I have to go and help Twilight! No matter how scary it is. I am the only one who can help!”
Fluttershy drew in a deep breath. She was shuddering. Shaking. The metal bits in her bag clanked together in time with her rattling ribs. She didn’t want to think about it. But the power of friendship overpowered all.
“I… I don’t really want to go, this time. But I must. Oh, Angel, can’t you be supportive of me for once? Please? I really promise I’ll try to make it back by tomorrow morning this time around. I’ll do my best. I’m really scared, but I just… have to go.”
Finally, Angel weakened. His sharp gaze softened into a buttery mixture of pity and infinite patience. He tilted his head, however, for to ask a question.
Fluttershy gulped, as she trotted to the door. She turned as she opened it, the night sky imposing its darkness upon the house, and looked back to the little bunny.
“Twilight – she says she’s being haunted!” Fluttershy squealed.
Twilight, There’s a Ghost in your Basement
“Thanks for coming, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, closing the door to the library. It was brighter in there, thanks to a few hundred candles that had been placed very strategically by Spike. It shone as bright as day, and was a far cry from the sparse streetlights of Ponyville’s wide roads.
The bag dropped with a thunk, a rattle, a squeak and a soft deflating noise off Fluttershy’s back, rolling a few times before hitting the wall and coming to rest.
“Um…” Twilight muttered.
“O-oh. I brought emergency supplies, just in case. I mean, if anything h-happened…”
Twilight looked at the bulging package. “Is that a shovel?”
“Y-yes. In case we get buried.”
“And that thing sticking out the side pocket is…”
“Maps of the area in a radius of five thousand kilometers. Oh, and I have three compasses a-and a depth gauge too.” Fluttershy nodded her assurance.
“I’m surprised you didn’t bring along a full set of armor or something,” Twilight remarked, raising an eyebrow.
“It… it wouldn’t fit. I’m sorry! I tried, but–”
“Fluttershy, what exactly do you think is going to happen?” Twilight’s brow furrowed.
“I d-don’t know! But you never know with g-g-g-ghosts!”
“Oh, boy.” Twilight sighed.
“There’s so many naughty, nasty things that ghosts can do, Twilight! They can… make funny high-pitched noises…”
“Uh huh,” Twilight replied, wandering off with a bit of impatience.
“... and, and they can make lights go on and off…”
Twilight lit another candle on a shelf emptied of books.
“... and they make things float around!”
Twilight levitated a few cushions into place with her horn.
“It’s soooo scarrryyy!” Fluttershy cried.
“Fluttershy. I didn’t say anything about ghosts,” Twilight explained, trying to keep her annoyance off her tone as she walked back. “Applejack said something about ghosts, and she was joking. What I said was that I’ve been hearing some noises. I just wanted somepony to come by and help me check it out.”
“O-oh. So… you aren’t being haunted?”
“No! I’m certainly not! You know me better than that – I don’t believe in such things. I mean, I would, if there was scientific proof, but it’s too silly! Ghosts just can’t possibly exist! They’re not real like magic or… or dragons or anything.”
“Did somepony say ‘dragon’?” Spike called out suddenly, sneaking into the room.
Fluttershy screamed. She screamed with the force of a thousand angry badgers. She threw her head between her legs, bending over and hiding behind herself.
“Um… did I say something?” Spike asked.
Twilight held a hoof to her temple. “Yeah. You did. That’s all it takes, apparently.”
Spike plodded over to the shaking figure, feather-duster in hand. He gave her a few looks, peering over her form and examining her reaction.
“Uh… Twilight? Is she gonna be okay? Does she have like, a switch or something?” Spike asked.
“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Twilight said, walking closer herself. “Come on, Fluttershy. Up with you. We have work to do tonight! Proper, good-old science! There’s no ghost around here, I’m sure.”
Spike held the feather-duster out in front of him, like a sword, hovering it dangerously close to Fluttershy’s flank, muttering something about reset buttons.
“What it is can definitely be explained using good old-fashioned logic and the deductive process!” Twilight went on, smiling at the thought. “And beakers! You gotta love beakers!”
Spike’s hand inched closer.
“Spike!” Twilight screamed. “Stop that!”
“Awww,” Spike whined, lowering his arm. “Fine. I’ll go get some water for her.”
“That would be very nice of you, Spike,” Twilight said, hovering over her pal. “See, Fluttershy? Water! So, don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Water makes everything better. It’s a scientific fact.”
Fluttershy peeked out from between her legs, catching sight of the calming, enthusiastic face of her friend, and the rear end of a dragon plopping to the kitchen.
“O-okay,” she whispered. “Is it really not ghosts?”
“Yes. I’m… It isn’t. It’s a real thing. It has to be. Now, let me explain what’s going on, and we’ll get to the bottom of it all.”
* * *
It was already late, and the short discussion dragged them later into the night. Twilight had only casually mentioned it the previous day, but the details merely expanded on what Fluttershy had already known.
At midnight, every night, for the past three nights, there had been a knock. It was something simple, something juvenile – like the prank of a young child or the eccentricities of a crazy old stallion who wandered the streets looking for candy in other ponies’ homes because he had run out of things to chew.
But there was never anypony there.
The knocks always repeated, and they intensified in duration and annoyance as the days ticked by. But they never wanted anything, and eventually they would go away by their own volition.
“But why d-do you need me?” Fluttershy asked, as she dipped her eyes to her tepid glass of water, which sat on the floor. She stared at it as if the answers were held within, nothing more than a shake and twitch of her wings here and there in response to the periodic flashes of her overactive imagination.
A ladybug flew in through a window somewhere, coursing around the room, landing right in the middle of Fluttershy’s cup, where it proceeded to take a bath.
Twilight, Spike and Fluttershy all watched in silence. For some reason, amongst the quietness of the library and the general mood, that had been extremely distracting.
“Well,” Twilight said, eventually, “Um… Spike and I have been unable to figure out what’s causing it. I’ve tried a few simple magic spells – things to try to catch whoever’s doing it in the act and stuff like that, but so far, we’ve come up empty. I figured we could use a pair of wings, and… honestly, it’s just fun to hang out with a friend, right?”
“I wouldn’t call this fun, Twilight. It’s… creepy.”
“Yeah, I agree with you, Fluttershy.” Spike shot in. “But Twilight keeps saying there’s nothing to be worried about! That there’s a good explanation!”
“Well, of course there is, Spike.” Twilight responded, calmly.
“Then why haven’t you pushed further?” Spike stuck out a claw. “Why have you stopped investigating?”
“She stopped investigating?” Fluttershy asked.
“Well… sort of! But she knows exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you, Twilight?” Spike glowered. He looked annoyed.
“I… I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, Spike.” Twilight said, looking at the ladybug again. It was currently in the middle of second rinse.
“Ooooh yes, she does!” Spike looked to Fluttershy. “She’s been putting it off! I keep asking her to cast some super powerful magic spells to figure it all out once and for all. But she doesn’t! She just ignores it, and waits for it to go away!”
“No, I don’t!” Twilight squeaked in protest, face a-flush. “I… There was just never a good time for it!”
“That’s because ever since the second night, she’s been hiding under her covers with a copy of ‘Magio-geometry 3: A Comprehensive Guide to the Application of Algebra in Magic Field and Waveform Theory’, and she only reads that book when she’s upset!”
“I just wanted to have some light bedtime reading. Surely you understand…?” Twilight looked to Fluttershy as well, both she and her assistant vying for truth.
“It’s a security blanket!” Spike pointed a judgemental claw right at Twilight’s face.
“I just, you know… It was a coincidence!” Twilight’s eyebrows sloped backward.
“Naw, you know what it is?” Spike said.
Twilight looked away. She made a gurgling noise. To Fluttershy, it sounded like the sort of sound that a beaver makes when you gently de-gas it.
“I think you’re scared too,” The dragon accused.
“O-oh, but…” Fluttershy said, after a long period of silence, “but she sounded so confident earlier.”
At this point, Twilight was stroking her leg with a stray hoof. Her face was stoic, straining, eyes squeezed shut in stubborn rejection.
“Yeah, that’s only because you arrived,” Spike said. “You should’ve seen her yesterday!”
Twilight remained quiet.
Spike continued, holding up a scaly finger. “I mean, I’m no psychologist, but it seems like she’s just using you to reinforce her own confidence levels by mitigating her fears through projection. She’s just standing in as the role of the comforter, acting as the voice of what would solve her own troubles. She needed a proxy, of course, which is where you came in.”
“Spike! How would you… how do you even know something like that?” Twilight burst out.
“I live in a library, Twilight!” Spike shot back. “What did you think was going to happen eventually?”
“But…”
“But what about you, Spike?” Fluttershy interrupted, getting more and more worried by the second. “Why doesn’t she use you to help her fears?”
“That’s not what I’m doing!” Twilight argued.
“Oh, she tried. But you know what? It didn’t work. Because I’m truthful, Fluttershy. I’m really feeling nervous about this whole situation, and nothing she can say is gonna make me feel like everything’s gonna be fine. I don’t know what that thing is, and I don’t think I want to know. In fact, I told Twilight yesterday we should just go and move in with Rarity or something, and she said, do you know what she said?”
“I said ‘no’!” Twilight called out.
“She said ‘no’!” Spike went on. “But she doesn’t want to do anything more by herself, so now she’s getting you involved.”
“Alright! Fine!” Twilight rolled her eyes, bipping the glass of water with a flagrant disregard of where she swung her hoof. The ladybug started drowning in the sudden tsunami onslaught.
“Fine! I admit,” Twilight rattled on. “Maybe… maybe it’s a little weird, alright? Maybe I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t like it. But I refuse to let my imagination get ahead of me! Imagination is only good for coming up with theories and solving problems and coming up with delicious, delicious hypotheses! Imagination has no place in fantasy, and it otherwise never helped anypony ever!”
“Whoa, calm down there,” Spike muttered, holding up his hands.
“But I’m not scared, and this isn’t a ghost!” Twilight stamped her hoof.
The door knocked.
The three of them froze in mid-discussion, a slight chill bristling their fur and scales. Twilight’s eyes snuck to the clock on the wall. With all their engagements, the time had edged past midnight, and it was now four minutes past the witching hour.
“T-twilight?” Fluttershy said, voice changing from a calming zephyr to a tiny sneeze.
“Y-yes, Fluttershy?”
“Was that the knock?” she whispered.
“Yes. Yes it was,” Twilight replied.
“Twilight?” Spike said, eyes glued to the entrance. “What do we do?”
The door knocked twice more. One after the other, resounding thumps on hard wood echoed through the library.
The ladybug rescued itself, swimming to the edge of the glass where it pulled itself up and onto the lip, shaking itself dry. With a buzz of indignation, it took to the skies, flying back up to the ceiling where it could get a bit of rest from all the drama.
Not a single one of the three saw it.
They were too busy watching the door.
* * *
Twilight stood back. She was standing a few meters away from the front door of the library, upon which someone had been knocking for the past few minutes in an irregular and poignant fashion.
The contents of Fluttershy’s emergency bag lay strewn around the floor; Spike took the liberty of inspecting its contents and getting equipped appropriately.
This meant that he now stood at attention, bedpan on head and plunger in hand. He didn’t want to know why Fluttershy had brought a bedpan along, but it fit snugly. It was a bit too late now to consider if it was clean or not.
Fluttershy was hiding behind the valiant dragon, ready to persuade him toward the evil monsters if necessary.
“Alright,” Twilight said. “Now, if the past three days were any indication, when I answer the door, there will be nothing there.”
She grabbed the door handle with her magic, throwing the door open. As she surmised, the doorway was empty save for a leaf that blew past in an errant breeze.
Twilight wasted no time in closing the door again.
“I don’t suppose you’ve… you’ve actually taken a look outside, have you?” Fluttershy asked, coming out from hiding.
“Yes, of course,” Twilight replied. “On the first day, and the second as well, when we both thought it was just a prankster or something. There’s nopony. No one. We even checked during the day. It wasn’t a branch swinging in the wind, or anything like that. Besides, this knocking is very methodological. It isn’t caused by a chance event.”
“Could it be some other creature?” Fluttershy suggested.
“Well, the door to the library is pretty thick. It’s made out of solid oak, after all! That’s why I had a bell installed. It takes a full-grown pony to knock strong enough for it to be heard, and as you heard, it was a pretty loud knock.” Twilight nodded toward Fluttershy. “Do you know any animal or creature that could do this?”
“Well, they would have to be really strong…” Fluttershy said. “Something maybe the size of a bear, or a manticore. Um… nothing that moves all too fast, and surely something that can be seen from a far way away.”
“We also considered the usual things,” Spike said, swinging the plunger around, “like invisibility spells, or some pony throwing stones from afar, or Discord, or Trixie. But none of Twilight’s anti-Trixie border protection spells triggered, and this isn’t Discord’s style – he always has to let everyone know he’s the one doing it.”
Something banged on the door again. Almost instinctively, Twilight yanked it open without even waiting for it to finish.
There was nothing.
“S-spike, go out and check,” Twilight ordered.
“What? No way!” Spike replied. “You must be crazy! Or you must think I am, if I were going to go outside!”
“Please, Spike! You’re brave and strong and-”
“Yeah, and you’re not Rarity, so that isn’t going to work on me, Twi!” Spike stood firm.
“Oh, come on! Use your imagination!”
“No! You don’t have the face for it!”
“Wha- What’s wrong with my face?”
Now is not the time to be scared. Now is the time to be brave. Now is the time to take your training and use it for good. Now is the time to be assertive.
“Come on, Spike!” the arguing continued.
“No! Why don’t you do it?”
“Because you’re my assistant, Spike!”
“And you’re supposed to lead by example!”
“And you’re supposed to take initiative!”
“Yeah, and I’m initiating the idea that you go check it out!”
Take a deep breath. Push all other thoughts out from your head. Focus on the goal. Make up a slogan befitting the situation that rhymes. When scary things knock, your fears you must block! Yes!
“I checked the last two times!”
“And I checked the first two!”
“So what does that make, Twilight?”
“Four times total!”
“That’s right! Which means it’s your turn!”
Alright. You’re ready. You can do this. You can do this!
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Fluttershy squealed, eyes shut, wings flailing. She stumbled over herself, blind, falling down and ending up in a heap of feathers and sadness. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
“F-fluttershy?” Twilight, and Spike, turned to the mess.
“I… I did it, Twilight! I did it!” Fluttershy said, getting up to her hooves.
“Did what?”
“I took a step toward the door, Twilight! I was so scared, but I… I told myself I could do it and I did it!” Fluttershy clutched her hoof to her chest, a look of pure intensity wrought upon her brow.
Spike tapped his foot on the floorboards.
“Alright, Twilight,” he turned to her. “I’ll go check. But you owe me one, okay? Promise?”
“I promise, Spike. You do this for me and I’ll do you a favour in the future.” Twilight nodded to the dragon, stepping back and giving him space.
Spike steeled himself, holding the plunger ever-tighter, as he wandered in the general direction of the open doorway. He looked over his shoulder for a brief moment, before stepping through.
He looked left.
He looked right.
His arms dropped by his side.
“Well, that’s a disappointment,” he said, shrugging. “There’s nothing. Really just nothing. I thought I’d see something out there after all this build up, like horrible red glowing eyes or weird slime smoke tendrils, but there’s nothing.”
The door sounded.
Thump, thump, thump.
Three times.
Spike, Twilight and Fluttershy stared at it.
“Did the door just knock?” Spike asked, hesitance on his lips.
“Y...yes, Spike, it did,” Twilight responded.
“But the door’s open.” Spike pointed out.
Thump, thump, thump.
“Ack!” Spike yelled, diving back into the library, scrabbling back toward his master’s side. “What’s going on, Twilight? This is new! This never happened before!”
Thump, thump, thump.
“What do I do?” screamed Twilight, hooves flying wildly in a dance of panic. “What do I do?”
“Close the door!” Fluttershy yelled.
“But the door will still be there!”
“Get rid of the door!” Fluttershy gasped. “Throw it away!”
“I can’t do that!”
“Just close it first, Twilight!” Spike elbowed her in the flank.
“Ah!” Twilight yelped, the jolt causing her horn to flare up. The door slammed shut with perhaps a bit too much force than necessary.
The trio breathed heavily, gasping, waiting.
“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for that.” Twilight shuddered.
Three heads swung around to face the kitchen nook as yet more noises emanated from within its veggie-filled folds. More thumps. More of the same. More knocks of a hard hoof against solid wood, but this time from within the household.
“You left the door open too long!” Spike railed. “See? Now that thing is in our house knocking on other stuff!”
“It’s in here? With us?” Fluttershy shuddered.
“No. No. Wait. It can’t be! What’s it even knocking on?” Twilight yelled, backing away.
“The cupboards!” Spike yelled back.
The three turned once again, in response, peering up the stairs that led to the second floor.
“Now it’s coming from up there, too!” Fluttershy held a hoof to her mouth.
“T-the toilets?” Twilight hazarded. “No! Leave my toilets alone!”
“It’s going after all the doors, Twilight! Whatever it is, it wants your doors!” Spike battered out an explanation.
“It’s moving all over the place like a thing!” Fluttershy kept crying frantically.
“Okay. Let’s everypony keep calm. Let’s… just….” Twilight breathed out, backing up against Fluttershy and Spike.
The three of them stood back to back to back, circling around as the banging came from all over the house – around them, beneath, above, each single beat like a claw on a chalkboard; it was uncomfortable to even think about it.
And then, all of a sudden, it stopped.
Quietness reigned in the library, not even a breath present to stir the air. Finally, Twilight let her lungs go, sighing a momentary break in the tension.
“Okay,” she chanted, licking her lips. “Okay. Okay.”
“That n-never happened before?” Fluttershy asked.
“Yes. It seems like it’s… well, I don’t know what it is. But it’s definitely escalating. It just… doesn’t fit the behaviour of anything I know!”
“Hey, Twilight? I think it’s time to expand your theory to other things,” Spike said, panting.
“G-ghosts don’t exist,” Twilight muttered, her voice growing weak. “They don’t.”
“Why can’t you even consider it, Twilight?” Spike asked, edginess creeping into his voice. “I mean, it’s not like you’re new to seeing strange and freaky things that can’t always be explained!”
Twilight sighed again. Her voice bounced off the walls as she spoke, a hollowness found within perhaps not merely caused by the space in the library.
“Fine. I’ll… I’ll tell you,” she said, defeated, as the others gave her rapt attention. “When… I was young, I used to be afraid. Afraid of ghosts. I used to hide under the covers at night, always imagining the nasty horrible things found in the darkness of my room. It was paralyzing. Sometimes I would get so scared that I couldn’t breathe.”
The unicorn lowered her head, as if in shame, rubbing her eyes with a hoof.
“My parents and my brother tried to help me. They explained that they were just figments. Shadows. Nothing more. Imagination is what makes them go crazy. And I hated being in that position. I hated being not in control of myself… and the situation… and everything around.
“I was just so scared over nothing at all. I spent years learning how not to be afraid of silly things like ghosts and… and now…”
“Twilight?” Fluttershy murmured.
Twilight looked toward her. In the light of the library, in the constant movement of a hundred candles all casting a pulsing gleam, there was a sort of soft warmth that overlaid the heart of Fluttershy’s own internal glow.
The pony, normally the one always losing her calm, was smiling gently and reassuringly. She reached out to place a hoof atop Twilight’s own.
There was only one time when she ever let her fears take a back seat. It was due to her nature – and out of pure instinct did she bury all of her own apprehensions in order to make sure that one of her little babies would not be hurt.
“There, there,” Fluttershy cooed, stroking Twilight’s head. “Don’t worry. It will all be fine. We’re allowed to be scared. Fear is just part of nature, Twilight. It’s not about banishing fear entirely, it’s just about not letting it control us. And trust me, I should know!”
“R-really?” Twilight said, sniffing over her frustrations. “But sometimes it’s so hard to think that it might be-”
“There, there!” Fluttershy pulled Twilight’s face to her chest, rubbing her all over. “I understand! But we must all face our fears! But if you let the fear of a possible result stop you from moving forward, you’re just letting imagination win again! But don’t worry, Twilight, I’m here with you! We’re all here with you!”
“Oh, Fluttershy!” Twilight cried out, tears welling up in her eyes, grabbing her in an embrace.
“Uh… guys?” Spike said. “What the heck?”
“Are we…. are we having a moment?” Twilight asked, sobbing, staring deep into Fluttershy’s face.
“Yes! We are! This is! We can conquer anything now! We can take on the world!” Fluttershy asserted. “We don’t have to be afraid any longer! We can both do this!”
A cold gust blew through the library. It came from nowhere, and all at once, half of the candles went out, dimming the lights by a considerable amount. The rooms beyond the one they were standing in was plunged into a murky gloom, and only those small flames that survived the onslaught were left to struggle against the darkness.
“Um… sorry. I changed my mind,” Fluttershy said, pushing Twilight away in the head before trotting to her bag. “I want to go home now.”
“No! You have to stay! Fluttershy! Please!” Twilight begged. “I’m… I’m scared, okay? I’m really scared! You were right, Spike! I’m scared and I hate ghosts and I’ve been avoiding it, so please, please don’t leave!”
“But what can we do?” Fluttershy wailed.
“Look, Twilight, you don’t want it to be a ghost, right? Well, I don’t really like that idea either. And Fluttershy doesn’t like anything.”
“It’s so true!” Fluttershy nodded, sadly.
“So we gotta just… prove that it’s not a ghost.”
“How?” Twilight replied, eyes creeping around the darkened library. “Ghosts aren’t… there in the first place!”
“Well… how do… how do you do it, Twilight?” Fluttershy asked, stepping lightly toward her. “How do you show something isn’t something using science and magic?”
“Well… we… we perform tests. We look for signs of things we think they aren’t. To put it very generally, if I wanted to test if water was safe to drink, I’d test it for different kinds of poison instead. If the poisons don’t show up, then I know the water isn’t poisonous.” Twilight attempted to explain.
“Then… then why can’t we do the same?”
“How do you mean, Fluttershy?”
“Let’s… let’s test for ghosts. And if the tests come up empty, then we know for sure that it isn’t. R-right?” Fluttershy suggested.
“Well… well, that’s… sound reasoning, but I don’t know where we’d start.” Twilight flailed her legs around haplessly, like a squid on fire. “I mean, we don’t have the resources and I don’t know the spells and-”
“Um… Twilight?” Spike muttered, looking toward the back of the library, through the flickering candles.
“Yes, Spike?”
“You know all those books that you keep putting in the trash and I keep taking out and reshelving and you get mad and I get mad and then we both argue about it and then we make up and have spaghetti later for dinner?”
“Yes, Spike.”
“I think one of them could come in handy.”
* * *
“The Big Book of Spooky? By Cluster A. Buttrose?” Twilight murmured, reading the title of the book. It wasn’t simple – it was hiding behind a plethora of stains and drips and tarnishes.
The light situation didn’t help either. It was still very dark – none of them had the willingness to light up a few dozen candles again, and they made do with the faint, cold glow in the main room. Spike held one in a candlestick holder to help it along.
“This book doesn’t look very good,” Fluttershy said, inspecting the cover. It had a crude drawing of a ghost in it. One of those elongated semi-circle things with the jagged bottom. The kind of sketch that everyone draws when they’re asked to draw a ghost.
“Yes! I know! See, Spike? Somepony agrees with me. This is such a farce of knowledge and an insult to th-”
“N-no, Twilight,” Fluttershy clarified. “I mean, it doesn’t look like it’s been taken care of.”
“She uses it as a drink coaster,” Spike explained.
“Really? Twilight? You of all ponies? I would never expect…” Fluttershy played with her hooves.
“I… Well, it’s some books!” Twilight poked the tome. “I mean, it’s like, these aren’t… you know? I mean…”
“Look, nevermind that for now,” Spike said, saving Twilight from embarrassment. “What’s important is that I remembered that you had it.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll… I’ll play along. What’s the worst that could happen?” Twilight chuckled nervously. A few strands of hair had come loose from her mane, almost as if on cue, poking out at strange angles.
“What kind of name is this?” Fluttershy asked, running her hoof over the ‘butt’.
“Prench.”
“Oh. Makes sense.” Fluttershy nodded.
Spike prised the cover open. The large book was as expected – an ancient collection of folklore and mythologies written in the creepiest font possible with hoof-drawn pictures to match. It was everything one could expect from a book like this. It even came shipped pre-dusty.
“Let’s see now,” Spike said, running a claw down the index page. “G… G… Right! Here we go. Gadhra… gaki… gargoyles…”
“Oh, but, gargoyles exist,” Fluttershy commented. “I know a family of them who live in the everfree.”
“... garuda… garm… gerd…”
“The book must have been written when some of these things were still not widely known about,” Twilight said.
“Yeah, you’re right. Look,” Spike pointed, holding his candle closer. “Even gryphons are on the list.”
“They’re very pleasant, those gargoyles,” Fluttershy continued. “I visit them sometimes, and bring them snacks. But you must never give them soup. They can’t hold it in their mouths.”
“And here’s ‘ghosts’,” Spike declared. “Page one hundred and twenty one.”
“Well, what does it say?” Twilight peered closer as Spike turned to the page.
“But they’re very timid,” Fluttershy said. “Most ponies don’t even know they’re there, because they like to stay very still and perch on things. It’s camouflage, you see, and they evolved amongst castles and st-”
“Fluttershy!”
“O-oh, sorry.”
“What does it say, Spike?”
“Um… it’s written in weird,” Spike said, squinting. “You know, like how Princess Luna sounds like when Princess Celestia hides a rat in her cereal.”
“It’s just old Equestrian. Here, let me take a look.” Twilight shuffled over, taking center stage.
Twilight cleared her throat and began to paraphrase for the benefit of her friends.
“Ghosts are a type of malicious spirit that is comprised of the remainder of the soul when the rest of a living creature has departed our physical realm. Ghosts are created when the heart of a creature has unfinished business, usually due to an over-abundance of emotional energy that was accrued during the creature’s life. For example, if one were to constantly steal my neighbour’s newspapers, like I have been every day for the past three years, they will accrue a great amount of anger and vinegar-ears. No doubt, my neighbour is a ghost now.”
Twilight frowned, shaking her head. She flipped the book over to the back, searching the last few pages.
“Um… Twilight? What are you doing?”
“I just can’t take this Buttrose character seriously, Spike. Look. There aren’t any references. Not a single one.” Twilight poked the end of the book. “And to base reported fact off personal accounts? That’s just irresponsible!”
“Come on, Twilight! Let’s not do this! Now’s not the time!”
“The complaining keeps me calm, Spike!”
“There, there.” Fluttershy gave Twilight a little pat.
“Twilight, just… does it say anything about detecting them?”
The unicorn returned to the original page. “Right. Let’s see… activities… description… feeding and care… here! Detection!”
“Alright! So let’s disprove it already and move on to other things!” Spike gestured eagerly.
“First, you must confirm the presence of the spirit,” Twilight read. “In order to do so, you must do nothing less than the most simple act of asking. In a loud, clear voice, you must ask, ‘Spirit, are you there?’ and observe the results. Most spirits will respond, as it is the polite thing to do, and most ghosts are rather polite when they are not trying to murder you or rearrange your cutlery into amusing and rude shapes.”
“Pass,” Spike said immediately.
“P-pass,” agreed Fluttershy.
Twilight drew in a breath as she rolled her eyes.
“Fine,” she said, stepping to the middle of the main room of the library.
The candles flickered once again. sending the shadows into a frenzy.
“Spirit, are you there?” she yelled.
Three knocks came from upstairs, once again.
Twilight retreated so fast that she nearly fell over, but she scrambled to the book, eyes widened, while the other two backed up against the shelves to gaze into the inky gloom, with the hopes that they could catch sight of the thing before it swooped down and carried them off.
“Okay! Okay! Ah!” Twilight blurted out, heart racing. “S-step one… step two… um…”
“It answered, Twilight! It understands us!” Fluttershy shrilled. “Make it stop!”
“Step one! In order to remove the possibility of it being a living creature, cast a simple ‘detect life’ spell! Okay. I can do that. I can do that. I can…” Twilight flummoxed, rushing to the middle of the room again. Her horn sparked once, twice, and then three times, like a motor being revved up on a cold day.
Suddenly, a burst of light expanded from the tip of her horn like a balloon being inflated, and a wave of strange blue energy swept across the library and through the walls.
“Wh-what’s going on?” Fluttershy murped, as things in her vision started to sparkle in a glorious, twinkling blue. She looked down at herself, and even her own hooves looked like someone had gone a bit nuts with the glitter and glue.
“It’s a detect life spell!” Twilight yelled. Everything in range of this library that’s alive will now glow for a while! Everypony, look hard! look for something above us!”
Fluttershy looked up, but there was a sea of blue above. It looked like a cloud; a huge wave of gently swaying fragments of glass suspended above them.
“Twilight! What’s that?” she screamed, pointing at the clump.
“That’s the tree, Fluttershy! The tree’s alive too! But anything large and moving will show up against it! Look for thicker, more dense shades of blue within it!”
They peered and poked, and scryed their best. But they couldn’t see anything. Once or twice they saw a blur of darker cerulean, but shape and course made it clear that those shadows were birds passing overhead. Nothing else could be seen on the lower level as well, save the three of them, and soon, the effects faded and they plunged themselves into darkness once again.
“O-okay.” Twilight gulped, rushing back to the book. “Step two is… detect… okay! If step one fails to show results, then check for the presence of magic! I’ve done this already but… we better make sure, right?”
“R-right,” Spike agreed half-heartedly.
“Okay. Detect magic… and go!”
Another wave, this time green, expanded through the library. Fluttershy knew what to expect, and kept her eyes open to look for anything that might show.
The three of them lit up in various strengths – Twilight glowing the brightest, like a lighthouse on a foggy shore, followed by Spike, and finally Fluttershy herself which flickered faintly like one of the candles.
This time, however, the tree didn’t burst into magnificent green flame, and there was no other lights that sparkled and twinkled through the walls.
“Just us three,” Fluttershy said. “Not a single thing above.”
“N-no magic, and no life,” Spike summarized.
Twilight stumbled a little, her legs giving out slightly. But like a trooper, she returned to the book, looking at the final word of advice. She studied it intently, whispering to herself, before pulling away to speak to her friends with a muted resignation.
“There is one last test. The only test left to prove the existence of ghosts,” Twilight said softly, eyes watering. “If the first two tests fail to show anything, then one only need to test for one of the qualities that a ghost carries with it past death.”
“What is it?” Fluttershy asked.
“D-detect intelligence.” Twilight forced out. “It’s an advanced spell but… but I can do it.”
“Do you want to?” Spike asked, putting a hand on Twilight’s side. “We don’t have to do this. We should leave now while we can, and get somepony else to help. Somepony who knows more.”
“N-no. I have to do this,” Twilight said, nodding guiltily. “I have to know. I don’t want to leave and… just drop it. I have to know the truth.”
“Even if it means that you discover something you don’t want to?” Fluttershy asked.
Twilight nodded. “I suppose… you were right. It might be something new, but everything’s new the first time you find it, right?”
“That’s right,” Fluttershy nodded too. “So…”
“So,” Twilight said.
“So,” Spike chimed in.
“Spirit!” Twilight called out. “Are you still here?”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Twilight grimaced. She still couldn’t sit well with the thought.
“Fine, then. Detect Intelligence. Let’s do this.”
The haze spread, a grey, thick blob of some odd qualities, from the tip of Twilight’s horn. It clung to things like draping silk off the back of a chair, and it fell in layers over everything in the room. There was no feeling to it though, and the bolts of magic disappeared the moment it came to rest upon a surface.
From there, two large red glows surrounded Twilight and Fluttershy’s heads, like crimson halos.
A small, tiny blob of pink sat on top of Spike, like a dim light bulb that was about to break at any moment.
“Hey!” Spike glared at the thing. “Come on!”
Smaller dots of red marked animals in the distance, each representative of anything which showed a tiny bit of smarts.
“Twilight, I think your spell needs a bit of twe-” Spike started to complain.
“Shh,” Twilight whispered. All life had drained from her voice. All chowder had disappeared from her tureen. She didn’t even bother to explain further. She just pointed.
From somewhere below them, underneath their hooves, in the deep ground, beyond the floor, was another halo, one that was as bright and large as the ones around the two ponies’.
Twilight sank to her knees, flopping down on the floor.
No longer did she have the energy to stand. She only stared, brain burning itself out on the implications and thoughts and denial.
Fluttershy padded over, also sighing softly.
“Twilight?” she told her. “There’s a ghost in your basement.”
* * *
“I am not going down there. I am not.” Spike folded his arms in staunch refusal. “You can’t make me. I quit. I refuse. I object. I am not going down there.”
The three of them gathered outside the small entryway that led down into the bowels of the library. Like the scene of a movie starring some sort of off-kilter madhorse, Twilight had stuffed that basement full of machinery and various types of equipment. It was a mechanical maze of gadgets and contraptions, and it was, by its own right, a scary room already.
“Well, somepony has to!” Twilight argued. “We need to check it out. I still have hope that it can all be explained.”
“Does your denial know no bounds?” Spike groaned.
“It does not. So get down there already.”
“I’d like to stay up here as well. If-if you don’t mind,” Fluttershy added in between.
“No way, Twilight,” Spike responded to her. “You made me go the last time. In fact, you said you promised to owe me one, right?”
“Wait, no, but…”
“I’m cashing it in, Twi! It’s your turn. You promised!”
“But that’s not how it works! You can’t redeem a promise on the same day it was made!”
“C’mon, Fluttershy, back me up here.” Spike turned to her. “I’m totally allowed to, right?”
“Um… if I say yes, can I stay up here?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then… yes.” Fluttershy nodded profusely.
“Betrayal!” Twilight gasped.
“You’re the one who wants to take a good look at the thing, so get down there already!” Spike rumbled, holding up the candlestick.
Twilight snatched the candle out from Spike’s paw, and the bedpan off his head. She fitted it to her own, her horn poking out of the little bit in the front which didn’t have a rim. “Fine!”
She stepped up to the doorway, peering down into the pitch. “Fine!”
She took two steps down the stairs. “Fine!”
She stopped. “F-f…”
The basement hadn’t been lit. There was not a single source of light to be found within, since Twilight had not foreseen the eventuality that they would ever need to go down there in the first place.
All that meant was that there was nothing there to keep her company but the tiny ebb of a flame at the end of a wick.
Anger and impatience gave way when a sharp pain shot through her chest, jolting her and waking her up to the reality of the situation, and it froze her in her tracks.
All she could see were blobs of shapes. She knew what they were – after all, she had placed most of those things there herself – but in the night, they took on a different form. Stands and beakers became claws and teeth, and large cabinets became the hulking bodies of amorphous monster jelly blobites.
She shuffled down the stairs, one step at a time, not even blinking for fear that something would appear in the split-second that she averted her gaze.
It was silent. Eerily silent.
There was the noise of hollow – that sort of empty space echo that all big rooms have. It was the kind of thing that makes everything else a little bit more quiet, and dampens the ears. It gave everything a generous coating of velvet, until all you had left was your own heartbeat pounding out a tattoo in your head.
“You can do it!” a voice squeaked from above. Fluttershy sounded a million miles away.
Twilight finally reached the bottom of the steps.
“S-show yourself,” she demanded as she stepped forward into the pit. “I know you’re there and you’ve been messing with us. I don’t want to hurt you, so just… come out and we’ll have a talk like grown ponies.”
Twilight swallowed. There was no answer.
“Is… is there anypony there?” she asked.
She winced, scrunching up her face. Something smelled terrible. It smelled like rotten meat and death. It smelled like the backside of a thousand cows. It permeated her skin and crept into her mind, and she couldn’t help but burst out coughing at the stench.
There was nothing that she knew that could cause such a terrible odour.
Something creaked. Something bent and bowed behind her. A piece of metal, perhaps, or something else entirely.
Her eyes widened, and her legs stiffened.
And then, there it was.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The knocking of a hoof upon wood. The reckoning of a sound within a hole. Twilight stepped forward, away from it, inching back to the stairs.
Even though she refused to look initially, she turned, trying to catch anything out of the corner of her eye.
It was clearly there.
Whatever it was, it drew her from her peripheral vision into a full-on look as she spun around completely to view the spirit in all its vestige.
It was a small, white thing with undefined edges. It sat on the top of a table, shuddering and shaking, like a ball of wax in constant flux. But most remarkably was that it glowed with a pale and eerie yellow light. It wasn’t bright enough to show anything more than what appeared to be a slight translucency, but it most certainly had an ethereal glow, like a figure at the edge of a pond in all the tales that were told.
It opened its eyes. Two gigantic bright red eyes, each tapering to sharp points. They looked like the eyes of wolves, but much larger, and they hovered there above the figure in a disconnected way. They slanted a bit too much, but Twilight knew that the creature was looking at her with judgemental fervour.
Twilight dropped the candle and ran.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Spike asked, standing up above. “Wargh!”
He had barely finished his question before Twilight came barrelling out of the basement, snatching him up by his collar and throwing him onto her back.
“Spike, we-we-we-we’re leaving. We’re going to Rarity’s,” she said, heading straight for the door. “Fluttershy, go home and lock yourself in. I’m calling Princess Celestia tomorrow. She can take care of this. She can burn the library down.”
“Twilight!” Fluttershy raced after. “What did you see?”
Twilight stopped outside the door, the cool air of the night refreshing her slightly. She looked Fluttershy up and down, mouth flapping open and shut. Behind her eyes she still carried the images of what she saw, something horrendous that seared into her brain.
“I… don’t want to talk about it,” Twilight said. “Go home, Fluttershy. Please. We have to leave this place right now.”
“Oh… oh…” Fluttershy sobbed. “Is it true? Was it really…?”
“Yes. Yes it was.”
* * *
She ran all the way home. She burst through the door. She cried from the stress, the fear, and the growing confusion.
Whatever it was that Twilight saw, it was so horrible, so disgusting that… that…
Angel peeked out from behind a corner of the hut. It was this again. He rolled his eyes, giving the floor three quick thumps with a powerful foot. It was the signal that all the other animals in the house knew – go away, Fluttershy needs her space to cry everywhere.
Only Mr and Mrs Firefly stayed for the moment, before a sharp glare chased them and their family back. There was time for talk later.
Angel plodded up to Fluttershy, who had lain herself down next to the roaring fire. Angel had thoughtfully started it a bit earlier in anticipation of her return, fueling it with gathered grasses, old mushrooms and bits of leftover stinkweed.
The rabbit cradled the pegasus in his tiny, stubby arms, giving her a well-needed hug. Angel had always been there for her, of course. The one to always comfort her at the end of the day when things went wrong.
“Oh, Angel.” Fluttershy sniffed. “It was horrible. I have never been so frightened in my life!”
Angel gave her a pat on the shoulder. He knew about it well. Frightening things. Scary things.
“There was a ghost! There really was! It made noises all over the house, and moved around through walls…”
Trees were interesting constructs. The bigger ones had little tunnels. Crawlspaces. Places behind the walls and between floors.
“... and it created such a horrible racket! It could even knock on doors when the doors were open!”
Sound echoes. It’s sometimes hard to pinpoint exactly where sound comes from, especially with a resounding noise like the thumping of wood. Sometimes you just have to be in the right spot for it to sound like it’s coming from something rather than behind something.
“And… and Twilight cast a detect life and magic spell… but we couldn’t see anything! So whatever was causing it must have not been… alive!”
The funny thing about camouflage is that it works better when you don’t move. Sometimes someone could be staring right at you and they won’t even see. It’s the things that move around that get caught. It was a simple, basic rule. It’s what the gargoyles in the forest did.
“And Twilight saw something incredibly, incredibly frightening in the basement! Something very intelligent and… she didn’t say what, but she was so, so traumatized by it! You could see it in her eyes!”
Imagination was a powerful thing. No doubt about it.
Angel perked his pink little ears up – the ones that looked like elongated eyes – grabbing Fluttershy closer for one of his patented Angel Hugs. As she sobbed quietly into his shoulder, streams of tears dampening the floor, he gave her nothing but his resounding support.
“Oh, Angel,” Fluttershy wailed. “I’ll never go back there again! I just want to stay here with you, where it’s safe and calm and nothing bad ever happens!”
Angel nodded. He was alright with this. After all, whatever made Fluttershy stay with him was always a good thing.
He continued to pat Fluttershy on the back as he began to muse how everything was going exactly to plan. First Rainbow, and now Twilight…
Two down.
Three to go.
Angel smiled.
The End
Author's Note
Thanks to Crack Javelin and HerpyDerpy for their assistance and support.
