Terror Tales of the Farm

by Yoshi89

Rating: teen
Tags: Granny Smith, Applejack, Thriller, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Horror, Other, Tragedy, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, Dark
Length: 9550

Join the Apple family as they wrap up Nightmare Night by telling three scary stories.

Nightmare Night, the one evening where all your worst dreams come true, is almost over...or is it? With Luna's moon still glimmering over Ponyville, the Apple family gathers together in their storm cellar to exchange scary stories before turning in for the night.

Some comments contain spoilers!

Entry for HONORABLE MENTION in the Poniverse Nightmare Night Contest

Don't Sit Near the Apple Tree (with Anypony Else but Me) - told by Granny Smith: A young Granny Smith finds a dying apple tree in the orchard. Anypony who goes to chop it down is never seen again.
I See Dead Ponies - told by Apple Bloom: Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle spend the night in a haunted cottage but when their stay becomes miserable, they receive unlikely help.
Fiddlin' Amok - told by Applejack: Fiddlesticks auditions for the Canterlot Chamber Orchestra which soon becomes cursed when she doesn't get in. Contains gore.

Published 2014-10-21 18:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-10-29 02:42:24 UTC

Don't Sit Near the Apple Tree (with Anypony Else but Me)

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I See Dead Ponies

I remember the time you told me Ponyville was built on hallowed grounds, Granny Smith, and that ponies have come and gone throughout the ages. I have learned so much about the foundation of our humble town but our ancestors and native Equestrians communicate with us through more than Miss Cheerilee's textbooks. We were all in class when Snips and Snails recalled their sighting of a spirit from the past one night.

"He carried this stick with a sharp rock tied on," Snips recalled, all of us on the edges of our seats.

"He had red paint on his face, too," Snails added. "It looked like someone smeared ketchup on it."

"Did he come after you?" Sweetie Belle asked, her voice cracking.

"No," Snails answered, stifling a giggle, "but he probably would have if Snips didn't wet the bed."

"I spilled my milk!" Snips blushed. Snails gave him a look that all but said he was just a big wuss. We all started laughing at Snips, we couldn't help it. I reckon he wished the ghost took him away that night instead.

They would have told us more about their story but the school bell rang, saving Snips from any further embarrassment. I would have wanted to go crusading that afternoon with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle but Braeburn dropped by Sweet Apple Acres for a spell. Instead, my friends spent the afternoon with Fluttershy and helped her take care of her animals. While they were having tea, she told them about an abandoned cottage in the Everfree Forest and had heard rumors that it was haunted. Since the place was so close to her own house, she wouldn't let herself or any of her animal friends near it. After Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle said their goodbyes, they strayed off the beaten path behind Fluttershy's cottage.

"Come on, Sweets," Scootaloo said, "this is our chance."

"I don't know." Sweetie Belle shook her head. "That ghost Snips and Snails talked about looked pretty dangerous to me."

"How bad can it be?" Scootaloo asked. "Not all of them are bad, I think."

She led Sweetie Belle further down the dirt path, using whatever sunlight they had left to follow Fluttershy's directions. They spotted the cottage surrounded by trees in the distance when they heard it. Behind a tree next to the house, somepony chanted and beat a drum, but they couldn't figure out who.

"We must be getting close," Scootaloo guessed. They trotted closer and closer to the tree, falling right into the trap of our most feared enemy. Chief Diamond Tiara, dressed all in feathers, pounced out and did this stupid buffalo dance. Of course, my crusader friends screamed, too scared at first to tell it was her.

"How!" Diamond raised her foreleg. "As in 'how' stupid can you blank flanks possibly be?"

Silver Spoon jumped from behind the brush, tom-tom in tow. "Good one!" she egged on her friend.

"Very funny, you two!" Scootaloo retorted.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Sweetie Belle asked them.

"Don't tell me you believe Snips and Snails." Diamond Tiara removed her feathered costume and fixed her crown. "You could trust those two dolt colts as far as you can throw 'em."

"Hey, now!" Scootaloo exclaimed. "They may be onto something. We could learn a lot of things from these spirits."

"Like what?" Silver Spoon taunted. "How to get your cutie marks in the afterlife?"

She and Diamond laughed at my co-crusaders once more, only stopping to "bump, bump, sugar lump, rump" in their faces.

"It just so happens that Sweets and I were on our way to that cottage over there," Scootaloo got in D.T.'s face. "Fluttershy says there's a ghost inside but we'll know for sure once we spend the night there!"

A hard gulp slithered down Sweetie Belle's throat.

"Aren't you two brave little Cutie Mark Cru-lamers?" Diamond snickered. "Why don't we make a game out of it?"

"A game?" Sweetie Belle squeaked.

"If the two of you can survive one night in that cottage from sunset to sunrise without chickening out” – Scootaloo glared at the bully's choice of words – “Silver Spoon and I will give you ten bits. Otherwise, you and Scaredy Belle owe us ten bits."

With a fire in her belly, Scootaloo shook our enemy's hoof. "Deal!"

"The sun's going down," Sweetie Belle reminded everypony.

"Good luck, you little foals!" Silver Spoon shot Sweetie and Scootaloo a wicked smile.

"You two are gonna eat those words for breakfast tomorrow," Scootaloo promised them. She led Sweetie Belle on a slow walk toward the front door. In spite of it being slightly run-down and boarded up, it looked somewhat habitable for a building not terribly deep in the Everfree Forest. They climbed the steps up to the front porch and Scootaloo knocked on the door.

"Uh-oh!" Sweetie grinned. "Nopony's home! That's too bad, guess we'll have to turn back."

Scootaloo pulled our jittery friend's tail and said, "Not so fast." She rattled the knob and pushed the door open, exposing the decrepit interior to the fillies for the first time. It would have reminded them of Fluttershy's cottage had the place not gone to shambles. The single room they walked in on had floors completely covered in dust and leaves that had blown in through some broken windows. The house itself seemed empty, save for an ash-ridden fireplace and mantel, some warped wooden furniture and two sets of stairs, one leading to the second floor with the other leading to the basement.

"I can't picture anypony wanting to live in this dump," Scootaloo coughed as she shut the front door, "even if it's just for one night."

"Maybe if you're a ghost." Sweetie Belle looked around, a quiver in her voice.

"We're gonna be fine, Sweets," Scootaloo bolstered her, "trust me."

"I still don't know about this," Sweetie sighed.

Scootaloo reached for a candlestick on the mantel using her wings. "You'll feel better after we get some light in here," she said, bringing the candle over to a table in the center of the cottage. "Now, help me look for some matches."

Sweetie Belle trotted to the other side of the cottage where the kitchen sat motionless. She started opening the drawers and to her surprise, found a matchbook with plastered with Carousel Boutique's likeness. With the little unicorn magic she had in her, she struck the match and lit the candle with it before blowing it out. She and Scootaloo pulled up old wooden chairs and gathered around the welcoming flame when she noticed an old framed picture on the floor.

"Hey, Scoots," she said, "take a look."

My two friends held the picture up to the candlelight and wiped the dust off the plate-glass window. Three earth ponies shared the space: one fully-grown stallion, one fully-grown mare and one school-age colt. They both focused their eyes on the colt, with his bright yellow coat, unkempt sandy blond mane and unmarked flanks. Then, down in the basement came an ear-splitting clatter. My other two crusaders jumped at the commotion and held onto each other for comfort. Sweetie Belle clutched her chest with one of her forehooves, keeping her heart from jumping out of her ribcage.

"What was that?" Sweetie Belle yelled.

"Whatever it was, it came from the basement" Scootaloo guessed. "I'll go check it out."

"Be careful, Scootaloo."

My pegasus friend creaked open the basement door and only took one step before the clanging continued once again. Sweetie Belle hid behind a chair, her imagination getting the better of her.

"Scoots?" she called finally. "What's down there?"

"Ah-mmp!" came her answer and nothing else.

"Scootaloo?" she whimpered.

Everypony has that feeling of being alone in a strange or dark place. Unsettling, is it? For Sweetie Belle, this nightmare had only just begun. Somepony or something in the cottage wanted Scootaloo and it wasn't going to stop until it got Sweetie Belle too. She dashed away from the chair and rattled the front door. It wouldn't budge so the only thing left for her to do was hide. She dove under a rocking chair and covered her face with fright. Who knows? Maybe the monster in the house just hated chairs.

Or not. Sweetie Belle felt something tug on her hind ankles, forcing her to grab onto the chair legs for support. "HELP!" she screamed. "Somepony! Anypony! Help me!"

The moment she stopped screaming, her ankles were released and high-pitched shrieks followed along with frantic galloping.

"IT'S HIM! IT'S HIM! RUN!" a filly screeched, too shrill for Sweetie Belle to recognize the voice.

"The door's stuck!" a second filly cried.

"You foal, we did that!" the first shouted. "Help me move that chair!"

Sweetie Belle caught a glimpse of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon as they jumped on a chair and dove through a window into the Everfree Forest. She then crawled out from underneath the chair and trotted over to the wide-open window of the cottage. Nice try, she thought as the two bullies disappeared into the night.

She then felt a chill envelope her, the kind you'd swear you'd feel in the early evening once the night settles. Turning around, she saw the image of a colt staring back at her in the flickering candlelight. Sweetie Belle gasped and backed up toward the wall, standing up on her hind legs while beads of sweat trickled down her coat.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the colt apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you, too."

"Who are you?" Sweetie Belle squeaked.

"My name's Potato Roll," he gestured to himself. "I heard you screaming and I went down to stop those fillies from bothering you."

"You mean, you helped me?" Sweetie Belle's eyes lit up. "Oh, thank you!"

She reached out her foreleg but Potato Roll took a step back and said, "Uh, don't mention it!"

"Say, you didn't happen to see an orange pegasus, too," she checked. "Did you?"

"You mean the one those fillies threw in the closet?"

"Oh no!" Sweetie Belle cried. "I hope she's all right."

Potato turned tail, Sweetie Belle beaming and holding back a squeal when she saw his flanks. Perhaps she finally found another case for the three of us to lift the "No Colts Allowed" rule in our club. The unicorn filly looked back down and discovered the family portrait again lying on the floor. Any fears or doubts on Sweetie Belle's mind scurried off when she matched the colt on the picture to the one standing nearby. She had so many questions to ask him but all that changed when he showed her where the closet was. She went over and when she opened the door, her smile spanned even further across her face.

"Scoots!" she yelled, using her horn to pierce the ropes our enemies bound her with.

"Hmmf mmm, Fwmm-mm-hmmm," Scootaloo mumbled.

"What was that?" Sweetie Belle asked.

Scootaloo untied the cloth gag on her mouth. "I said, 'Thank you, Sweetie Belle.'"

"Scoots," Sweetie stepped back and waved for the colt to come closer. "This is Potato Roll. He got rid of the bullies for us."

"How did you find us here?" Scootaloo wanted to know.

"My dad built this cottage," Potato Roll said. "He was a potato farmer from Long Bridleland and he moved out here with my mom. They don't live here anymore."

"Why not?" Sweetie Belle asked.

Potato Roll gasped through his teeth and took a step back. "I'd rather not say."

"Go on," Scootaloo insisted, "you can tell us."

"Okay." the colt ruffled his mane. "Have your parents ever said, 'Don't play ball in the house'?"

"My sister tells me that all the time," Sweetie Belle admitted.

"A few months ago, I was upstairs in my bedroom playing with my hoofball when..."

Potato Roll sighed and put his head down, a pregnant pause following.

"Did you get hurt?" Sweetie Belle finally asked.

"Did you break something?" Scootaloo followed.

Potato Roll shook his head to both questions. "I fell out the window."

"You're an earth pony!" Scootaloo gasped. "There's no way could have survived the fall!"

"But I did," Potato Roll went on.

"How?" the two fillies asked.

"I wish I knew," Potato Roll sighed. "I never hit the ground. The next thing I saw when I woke up was a bed of dark blue feathers and a mare with a beautiful blue coat and a sparkling mane."

"Princess Luna saved you!" Sweetie Belle grinned from ear to ear.

"Luna?" Potato Roll scratched his chin. "You're pulling my coronets. I thought she only appeared in our dreams."

"She does," Scootaloo explained. "Now I guess she does even more than that."

"What about your parents?" Sweetie Belle went on. "Do they know you're alive?"

"I don't know," the colt put his head down. "After Princess Luna brought me back here, I never saw my mom or dad again. I've been waiting in our house for them to come back ever since."

"Alone?" Scootaloo asked.

"Nopony else comes out to this part of the woods," Potato Roll explained. "You're the first ponies that ever visited me."

"That's because," Sweetie Belle continued, "we thought this house was haunted."

"Haunted?" one of Potato's eyes widened while the other shut. "Who said it was?"

"Our friend Fluttershy," Scootaloo told him. "You know, she lives with all those animals near the edge of the forest."

"But I never saw a ghost in this house," the colt answered. "Mom always said there was no such thing."

"I guess you're right, then," Sweetie Belle shook her head. "I suppose Snips and Snails were making it all up."

"In that case, our work here is done." Scootaloo proclaimed, walking from the closet. "We'd better get going, Tater. Maybe Diamond Tiara forgot about the bet already."

"Come visit again!" Potato Roll waved.

"We'll never forget you, Potato Roll." Sweetie Belle called back to him.

My friends climbed on the chair Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon set by the window before hopping out. They circled to the front of the cottage where Scooatloo kicked her heel on something hard.

"Ow! Shoot!" she swore, holding her hoof up to the moonlight.

"You okay?" Sweetie Belle checked.

"I'm fine," Scootaloo replied. "I almost tripped over this large rock."

"Wait a minute!" Sweetie Belle gasped. "That's no rock, it's...it's..."

Scootaloo's face turned whiter than Sweetie Belle's when she saw what she stumbled over. As the candle in the cottage blew out by itself, the two fillies screamed and galloped away as fast as they could. Nothing was going to stop them until they made it back to Ponyville safe and sound.

Engraved across the top of the stone were the words "Here lies our beloved son, Potato Roll".

Interlude 2

"Apple Bloom!" Applejack gasped and jumped a few feet in the air.

"Betcha didn't see that comin', huh?" Apple Bloom smiled. Big Mac glanced at his two sisters with an expressionless look while Granny Smith held back a chuckle upon seeing Applejack frightened by the surprise twist to the filly's tale.

"All right, all right, I didn't." the Element of Honesty winced.

"All ya had to do was put the pieces together, big sis." Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. "Why do y'all think Potato Roll didn't wanna shake Sweetie Belle's hoof?"

"Woulda gone right through him," Granny Smith said.

"Actually, he was just shy," Apple Bloom corrected her. "But he could still talk to Scoots and Sweets as if he was alive."

"So I reckon they believe in ghosts now," Applejack inferred. "Though they didn't know he was one at the time."

"You didn't, either, Applejack." Granny smugly smiled at her.

"Eeyup." Big Mac shrugged.

"If that's the way y'all are gonna play," Applejack said, "I might as well throw my hat in the ring."

"This story isn't gonna be about Rainbow Dash," Apple Bloom clarified. "Is it?"

"Tarnation, no!" Applejack retorted.

"Or Rarity?" Big Macintosh asked.

"No, Big Mac." Applejack shook her head. "I promise the both of y'all."

"Go ahead." Granny Smith kicked back on her rocker.

"Here goes nothin'..."

Fiddlin' Amok

Author's Note

If you're all wondering why this submission has the gore tag, here it is, finally. This story may not be for the faint of heart.

Plus, there's also drinking in this story but it's brief.

Fiddlin' Amok

When you're a filly, your cute-ceañera is the happiest moment ever in your life. For Fiddlesticks, seeing all her family and friends celebrate her new-found talent meant all of Equestria to her. The one thing Fiddlesticks appreciated the most at her party—even more than all the games, the music and even the cake—was one present in particular. Her uncle had bought her a fiddle that he carved and tuned all by himself. Gone were the days of having to borrow one from school—Now Fiddlesticks could play and practice on her own.

But of course, as Fiddlesticks grew older, the fiddle got smaller. Her hooves cramped on the bow and board, her positions shrank on the tiny instrument and she found it very difficult to do so much as tune the strings. So one day, she took a trip to the farmer's market in Appleloosa, where she happened upon this stallion from Appledeen who specialized in woodcarving. She glanced at all the lovingly hoof-crafted fiddles, viols, cellos and basses and struck up a conversation with the shopkeeper.

"I need a new fiddle," Fiddlesticks told him. "My old one's too small."

"Do you play professionally?" the owner asked, adjusting his ten-gallon hat.

"I'm itchin' to." Fiddlesticks nodded.

"Gonna give ya some advice." he leaned forward. "If you're fixin' to wow the crowd with your fiddle-playin', ya gotta practice only on days you eat."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The stallion chuckled, "I've sold instruments for many moons now. I can tell who's serious about playin' and who's not."

Fiddlesticks stared at this strange vendor as he fixed his hat again. Who was he to judge her fiddle playing and tell her how to live her life?

"Tell me," he continued. "Which one are ya?"

"I'm pretty good, I guess," she finally admitted.

"Ya guess?" he gave her a funny look. "That's your problem, you ain't got any confidence. You oughta know your own strengths!"

"Well, I did get my old fiddle at my cute-ceañera."

"Then why didn't ya so?" the shopkeeper gasped. "I reckon I have just the fiddle for you."

The stallion turned about face and shuffled through a few cases before picking one up on the ground with his teeth. He then walked over to Fiddlesticks, laid the case down and opened it. For a moment, she thought his hat seemed to float on his head before he twisted it back on yet again.

"Ya know what they say." the stallion winked. "'The older the fiddle, the sweeter the tune.'"

Fiddlesticks' jaw nearly dropped through the table when she saw the fiddle's warped maple body and chipped spruce scroll. The string pegs looked like they might fall off if she ever tried to tune it. The board may have even been replaced—it did not match in age with the rest of the instrument—and the strings had loosened to the point of wobbling when she picked it up. If what he said was true about the fiddle's tune being sweet, then the bow must have been made of molasses.

"I'm warning ya," the shopkeeper spoke, nearly making Fiddlesticks drop the instrument. "Don't judge a book by its cover. This fiddle has history on its side."

"How much do ya want for it?"

"Bits don't mean much to me." he shook his head while holding onto his hat. "I'll let ya trade yer filly fiddle for it."

Fiddlesticks took her old instrument out of her saddlebag and showed it to the owner. She hated to part with such a dear gift, but her full-grown body just couldn't support an instrument meant for a filly anymore. They must have stared for hours, looking back between each other and the two fiddles on the counter. Fiddlesticks hesitated before giving a deep sigh.

"I'll take it," she announced.

"She's all yours." the stallion nudged the antique fiddle her way.

Fiddlesticks put the case in her saddlebag, then she stopped for a fresh mug of cider to drown out the experience. What did she get herself into? Did she just get swindled out of her heirloom? Those questions and many more zigged and zagged through the poor mare's head before she forced them away upon catching a poster. She walked towards the notice advertising auditions for the Canterlot Chamber Orchestra in two days' time. Octavia's smile on the poster as she played her cello invited her to come down and show her what she was made of. With a piece of history in her saddlebag, how could she lose?

Celestia's sun dipped near the horizon as Fiddlesticks cantered towards the train station. She barely had enough bits in her saddlebags to make the trip but she was going to Canterlot, even if she couldn't afford to sleep in a warm first class bed.

"One-way to Canterlot, please." she approached the ticket window and threw whatever bits she had on the tray.

The mare behind the counter printed her ticket and she took it as the conductor yelled, "All aboard!" The train started to pull away and the conductor, upon letting Fiddlesticks show him her ticket, held out his hoof to help her on the train. She stocked her fiddle in one of the overhead compartments, found an empty seat and shuffled down on her haunches where she drifted off to sleep.

"Next stop, Canterlot!" the conductor's voice rattled Fiddlesticks awake. After spending Luna's nightly watch asleep on the train, she took her saddlebag down and trotted over to the door. Aside from the conductor, she was the only one on the train but that was about to change with Celestia raising the sun in a little while. The train passed through the tunnel in the mountains and pulled into the station as day broke. Canterlot's gentle ponyfolk stepped aside for her to get out before cramming into the car all at once. She had never seen so many hurried commuters on one train in her life.

She walked inside the station and looked all over for the information booth, discovering it when a friendly white unicorn mare behind the desk waved her forward. Fiddlesticks headed towards the booth and picked up a map before making eye contact.

"New in town?" The mare asked, grinning.

"First timer," Fiddlesticks answered.

"How can I help you?"

"I came for the chamber orchestra auditions," Fiddlesticks explained. "I've been fiddlin' since I was a little young 'un."

"You're from down south, aren't you?" the mare interrupted her.

"Born in Appleloosa," Fiddlesticks told her, "though I did live in Fillydelphia for a while. How'd ya guess?"

"I recognize that accent anywhere."

"Reckon you've seen 'em come and go," the country filly said.

"This is the train station," the mare chuckled. "I watch ponies come and go all the time."

"So, where should I go?"

"The auditions are in the symphony hall at ten o'clock in the morning tomorrow." the mare pointed outside. "Canterlot Inn's right across the street. You can't miss it."

"How many ponies are auditioning?" Fiddlesticks asked.

"I don't know," the information mare said, "but I hear Octavia's very selective."

"Thanks," Fiddlesticks bowed her head and walked into town. In twenty-four hours' time, she'd have her chance to make it big in Canterlot. For now, she needed a place to spend the night and practice. She passed Canterlot's castle for the first time after walking out of the train station. The behemoth of a palace looked bigger in pony than on the postcards me and my relatives would send her. She travelled across the cobblestones until she saw a flag with a bed emblem on it flying from a three-story stone building. Across the path, as she figured, was another building, this one adorned with engraved music notes and treble clefs. She pushed open the door to the inn and headed over to the front desk.

"You must be here for the chamber auditions tomorrow," the unicorn manager spoke to her.

"I am." Fiddlesticks nodded. "How'd ya know?"

"I saw you staring at our new symphony hall," the stallion behind the desk went on. "Ponies are drawn in to the place. We here take pride in our music."

"I'd like a room," Fiddlesticks changed the subject. "I don't have a lot of money, though."

"I've got a place on the first floor." the manager turned about face and snatched a key from the wall. "Room 112. It's cozy with one bed but I'm sure it's in your price range. The room's down the hall and to the right."

"Thanks, sir." Fiddlesticks accepted the key and followed the manager's directions. She unlocked the door and glanced out the window. Looking right back at her was the symphony hall where all the ponies would compete against her for a coveted spot in Octavia's orchestra. She fished her case out of the saddlebag, opened it up and picked up the fiddle. She then inspected the ageless instrument again from top to bottom once more time before holding it under her chin. It felt like a normal fiddle so it had to have played like one, too. She plucked each string as she tuned the fiddle until G, D, A and E rang in perfect harmony. She then held the bow out of her case when there came a RAT-TAT-TAT on the door. Fiddlesticks whinnied and nearly dropped the instrument as the door opened.

"Sorry," a stallion's voice spoke behind the door. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm sorry, too," Fiddlesticks chuckled in spite of herself. "Who are you?"

"Room service," the stallion introduced himself.

Fiddlesticks looked at the voice's owner, a uniformed pegasus pushing a cart loaded with goodies. She put the fiddle down on the bed and walked over to the cart, putting a hoof on her chin. She bought some cookies as fuel for her practicing, tipped the pegasus and walked back to her room. After eating her breakfast, she picked up the bow and fiddle, getting ready to play properly for the first time in days. All she could play were a few raspy notes before searching the case for a rosin. She lost a hold of the slippery little devil and it bounced under the bed. She crawled underneath to pick it up but after another RAT-TAT-TAT, she clunked her head on the wooden frame.

"Ow! Tarnation!" Fiddlesticks cursed as she shuffled under the bed. "Y'all need ta learn some..."

She stopped her rant the second she opened the door. A light blue, dainty earth pony mare backed away towards the other side of the hall carrying a case similar to her very own.

"Oops." Fiddlesticks blushed and rubbed her head. "Sorry. Had some strange things happen since I got here."

"Don't worry about it," the mare said, walking closer. Her light yellow mane drooped back in front of her widow's peak, nearly obscuring the two crossed bows on her flanks. "I heard you from my room upstairs."

"Reckon I shoulda rosined my bow first," Fiddlesticks giggled.

"It's okay."

"You auditionin', too?"

"Why, yes I am," the mare said as she held out her violin. "I came all the way from Baltimare. I'm staying in Room 212."

"Appleloosa," Fiddlesticks replied. "I hear Octavia's pickier than a filly at the dinner table. You don't have any advice, do ya?"

"Try the music store across town," the mare suggested.

"Then I reckon I should head off," Fiddlesticks took out her key and locked the door. "Pleasure to meet you, uh..."

"Fine Tuner," the mare answered. "The pleasure's mine."

Fiddlesticks got better acquainted with Canterlot before looking for the music store. She walked from the hotel, gazing at all the marvelous, antique stone buildings. Every time she looked at the towering Canterlot castle, she could not keep her eyes away from it. The thrill of getting to see where Celestia and Luna held their daytime and nighttime rounds made her heart skip several beats. Everypony in Canterlot was so friendly; the unicorn residents and tourists alike would wave or say hello to her and she would do the same back.

She stopped to have a brief lunch at one of the coffee shops downtown, overhearing a conversation between a few female unicorns. They spoke highly of Octavia and her contributions to the arts of Canterlot but they then talked about the music from "down south" and how "unrefined" it sounded to aristocratic ears. She thought about stepping in and defending the music she grew up with but chose to just finish her coffee instead.

Fiddlesticks continued her wanderings through the streets of Canterlot until she found an awning adorned with musical notes. She reckoned the music store Fine Tuner talked about could help find her identity in song. She walked inside and browsed through the sheet music, hoping to find something with country flavor. Rack after rack she searched but nothing turned up, sighing after each.

Maybe those mares were right, she thought. Her kind of music might as well not be "dignified" to play in front of a royal audience. She started looking at the beginning all over again, picking up a score from a composer whose name she couldn't recognize. What's so special about Moatzart? she thought as she flipped through the sheet music. She put the score back in its place and walked out of the store with her head down. What would Octavia think of a country filly trying to impress her with the only kind of music she was accustomed to? That thought echoed in her mind as she made her way back to the hotel.

She stayed outside to enjoy the glorious sunset Celestia performed in front of her, then joined in on the residents watching Luna raise the moon. Now she could say she was there in pony to see the princesses turn the day into night. Back at the inn, a continental dinner had been set up for the lodgers who swapped stories with one another. Fine Tuner was there munching on a hay burger and she motioned her to an empty seat. After they discussed their day over supper, they both retired to their rooms. Fiddlesticks gasped when she saw the violin still sitting on her bed, forgetting to play all day. She could not practice now, not with ponies wanting to catch some shut eye, so she took the case off the bed, removed the covers, placed her hat on one of the bedposts and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Fiddlesticks freshened up and re-tuned her instrument before grabbing a quick bite for breakfast. She then walked across the street to the symphony hall where a line formed to get inside. She took her place behind Fine Tuner just before the doors opened and a white unicorn with spiky blue hair and purple shades popped out.

"All right, everypony," the unicorn announced before hushing the crowd. "The name's Vinyl Scratch. I'm the director of the new chamber orchestra."

"I thought Octavia was," one of the hopefuls said.

"She's the conductor," Vinyl corrected. "They're two different things."

"Oh."

"I hope you all have your pieces ready," Vinyl continued. "Octavia will take you in the order you're in right now."

As all the hopefuls started pouring in, Fiddlesticks realized she was last in line. She shook Vinyl's hoof who wished her luck as she gave her a number. She followed the group through the lobby and into the theater where everypony took up the second through fourth rows. Fiddlesticks just stared as Octavia called the numbers, judged all the performers and wrote notes on her clipboard. She took a brief moment to check on her number which read—

"57?" Octavia called. Fiddlesticks gasped, her heart beating double time. She picked up her instrument case and walked on stage. "Your name and instrument," Octavia requested.

"F-F-Fiddlesticks," the nervous wreck stammered, "I p-play the fiddle."

"Show me what you have," Octavia said. Fiddlesticks took the fiddle out of her case and assumed her playing position. Octavia smiled and flicked back her mane as Fiddlesticks began to play her favorite song, "Apple in the Straw". she closed her eyes, broke into a dance and even clapped her hind hooves to the music she played. She finished her song and bowed as Octavia clapped her front hooves.

"How was I?" Fiddlesticks wanted to know.

"I'll post the chairs in the hotel later this afternoon," Octavia let her know. They said their goodbyes before Fiddlesticks headed out.

"Hey, Fiddly!" Vinyl Scratch waved to her in the lobby. "I've got a break. Let's have lunch together."

"Um, sure, Vinyl," Fiddlesticks answered as soon as she caught her breath.

"I know a little place that makes the best daisy sandwiches this side of Canterlot." Vinyl Scratch took her foreleg and ushered her outside. They left the symphony hall and walked a block and a half to the restaurant the party pony could not stop raving about. The two enjoyed a nice lunch on Vinyl's bits with Fiddlesticks squealing with delight after taking each bite of her daisy sandwich. As they finished their meals, they could see a crowd gathering in front of the hotel entrance. "Guess Octavia's picked her musicians," Vinyl reckoned. "I liked your performance, Fiddly."

"You did?" Fiddlesticks blushed.

"You know how to get down," Vinyl continued. "I've been trying to get Tavi to lighten up on other forms of music. She can be so uptight sometimes."

"I can see," Fiddlesticks said.

"Well, I gotta run. I have to get ready for a party tonight."

"Thanks for lunch," Fiddlesticks told her.

"Anytime."

Fiddlesticks trotted back to the inn and waited for the crowd to recede before finding her name. Octavia had picked four violins, two violas, two cellos and one double bass for her chamber orchestra.

She was not one of them.

Fiddlesticks gasped, a teardrop escaping from her eye and rolling down her cheek. She would dare not go back home without her purpose of playing the fiddle. She walked back to her room, opened the door and put her fiddle back on her bed. She sat on her haunches and buried her face in her hooves before an excited knock shook her out of her funk.

"Who is it?" Fiddlesticks sniffled.

"It's me, Fiddlesticks, Fine Tuner?"

"What do you want?" Fiddlesticks turned toward the door and opened it. Fine Tuner wore a smile on her face that she would just not put away. Fiddlesticks knew this could only mean one thing.

"I'm a first chair!" Fine Tuner bounced in the hallway. "I made it! I'm playing first violin!"

Bingo, Fiddlesticks thought. "Congratulations," she said out loud.

"What about you?"

Fiddlesticks put her head down. "I didn't get in."

Fine Tuner's celebration screeched to a halt. "Oh, I-I'm sorry about that."

"Maybe playing 'Apple in the Straw' for her wasn't my best idea."

"I went with a solo from Schubit's Unfinished Symphony," Fine Tuner explained. "She didn't say anything after I was finished."

"She clapped for me," Fiddlesticks recalled. "It sounded as if she liked my playing."

"You never know," Fine Tuner reassured her. "Maybe she has something else for you."

"I'll have a chat with her tomorrow," Fiddlesticks told her. "For now, I need to get some fresh air."

Fiddlesticks put her instrument away, locked her room and walked back outside. She thought back to her tour from the day before and found one of the bars down the road calling to her. She popped inside, asked for a couple of apple ciders and guzzled them down. As she requested two more drinks, she struck up a conversation with the bartender who took more and more interest in her story with each sip she took. Of course, barkeeps are willing to listen to any problems, just so long as the drinks talked for the customers.

Fiddlesticks polished off that last apple cider and moved her focus to other patrons in the bar, some of which had also been rejected by Octavia. Some of their rantings were harmless fun while others drank because they wished to erase her from existence. By the time the moon had risen, Fiddlesticks was sober again and already thinking about retiring for the night. She shuffled back on all fours and walked through the dark city streets back to the inn. She opened the door and checked her instrument case, hankering to give that Appledeen seller what for. Upon opening the case, the fiddle wasn't there!

She tore apart her room in search of the fiddle but stopped when she thought she heard someone play "Apple in the Straw". When the melody finished, an ear-piercing scream rang out through the entire inn. Doors opened all over as Fiddlesticks rushed out of the hallway and up the spiral staircase, becoming blocked by a wall of ponies looking into the room directly above her.

"What happened?" Fiddlesticks yelled.

"There's been a murder!" the room service pegasus shouted. "The poor mare in Room 212 never stood a chance."

"212?" Fiddlesticks remembered. "Celestia, no!"

Fiddlesticks shoved her way toward the front of the crowd at the doorway. Fine Tuner's lifeless body drenched the throw rug underneath her with blood. Fiddlesticks alternated between studying the stab wounds and looking all around for a knife or any sign of the killer.

"Move aside!" a royal guard shouted behind her. While the mob of ponies dispersed, Fiddlesticks stayed in the hallway to investigate. Two guards escorted Princess Luna up the stairs and toward Room 212. Upon seeing the dirty deed, Luna's eyes nearly popped out of her face.

"Who doth commit such a heinous act?" Luna gasped. "Prepare her for an autopsy at once and have the innkeeper notify her family."

Fiddlesticks sneaked down the stairs, returned to her room and closed the door. She opened her case and there rested the fiddle. She jumped and started gasping for air before staring long and hard at the instrument. She had put the fiddle and bow away after the audition and locked her door so they couldn't have gotten out on their own or could they?

The fiddlin' mare did not sleep one wink that night, pulling the covers up to her face until sunup the next morning. She rolled out of bed and packed her saddlebag with all the belongings she carried with her. She opened the door only to find a pair of musical ponies waiting outside.

"Hello, Fiddlesticks," Octavia greeted her. "Vinyl Scratch here and I talked things over in the wake of Fine Tuner's death."

"It's just sad," Fiddlesticks shook her head. "She deserved to get in the orchestra but I just feel so bad for her."

"What Tavi's trying to say is," Vinyl Scratch said, "we'd like to make you an honorary member of the orchestra."

"I appreciate that," Fiddlesticks breathed a heavy sigh, "but I'm not too sure."

"Fiddlesticks," Octavia insisted, "you impressed me so much in your audition. If we had three first violins, I'd have made you the third."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely." Octavia nodded. "If you don't want to be in the group, I understand. I only wish it didn't come to this."

"We have to move on," Vinyl added. "You two seemed closest in our auditions."

"Then I'll do it for her." Fiddlesticks smiled. "When do we practice?"

"The orchestra's all gathered up in the symphony hall," Octavia informed her. "We can walk you over."

Fiddlesticks reorganized her room and told the innkeeper she'd be staying an extra night. She then followed Vinyl and Octavia across the street to the symphony hall. The three trotted through the lobby with the conversations on stage fading once their leaders marched inside.

"Everypony," Vinyl Scratch announced, "this is Fiddlesticks. With the unfortunate death of Fine Tuner, she will be playing with us at second chair first violin."

Fiddlesticks took but a moment to introduce herself to the other eight musicians in the orchestra, everypony expressing their condolences for Fine Tuner in the meanwhile.

"Have y'all selected anything to play for our first concert?" Fiddlesticks asked Vinyl and Octavia.

"She impressed me with her Schubit piece," Octavia recalled, "so that's what we're going to play."

It took Fiddlesticks some getting used to but she found her hoofing with the so-called "romantic" music of Schubit. She switched her focus from the sheet music to Vinyl Scratch in the audience who kept giving her a hoof's up. After a couple of hours of rehearsal, it was time for the ponies to pack away their instruments. Fiddlesticks laid down her fiddle in her case, then stood up to pick her bow from her music stand. When she looked back down at her case, her fiddle had disappeared again!

"Excuse me?" Fiddlesticks looked around. "Has anypony seen my fiddle?"

Then she heard it again, that "Apple in the Straw" solo which rang in her ears. Before she could pinpoint the same thing that happened yesterday—

"AAAAAAAHHH!"

Everypony rushed off the wings of the stage to follow the scream. Fiddlesticks dashed in front of the pack, cantered down the hallway and opened the door to the ladies' room.

"Our first chair!" Octavia called out behind Fiddlesticks. The first chair unicorn bathed in the blood from her stab wounds with her head dunked in the toilet.

"Somepony get Princess Luna!" one of the violists shouted and the rest of the chamber orchestra ran off. Octavia, Vinyl Scratch and Fiddlesticks oogled at the murder scene in the bathroom before turning to each other.

"O-Octavia?" Fiddlesticks squeaked.

"Yes, Fiddlesticks?"

"I bet I know what's behind these murders."

"But Fiddly!" Vinyl called out. "We were all on stage when this happened!"

"I reckon" — Fiddlesticks paused to gulp — "that my fiddle's been doing these deeds."

"WHAT!?" Octavia and Vinyl shouted at the same time.

"I'm not crazy." Fiddlesticks walked as close as she could to the body without touching it. "Don't these stab wounds look like they came from a bow?"

Octavia looked closer too and her heart dropped to her barrel when she saw the wounds. "N-no! It can't be!"

"There has to be some dark magic in your fiddle," Vinyl told her. "I hope Princess Luna can help at least."

She said her name and she appeared. Two royal guards and the rest of the orchestra escorted a hovering Princess Luna down the hallway. Octavia, Vinyl Scratch and Fiddlesticks stepped aside to let them through.

"Another one!" Luna cried, turning to her guards. "Guards, bring her to the castle morgue."

The guards picked up the first chair and carried her out of the bathroom. The moon princess put her head down as the other three mares approached her from either side.

"Did you find out Fine Tuner's cause of death?" Octavia asked.

"As I feared, it was murder." Luna's heart froze.

"Princess?" Fiddlesticks walked up. "Would you believe me if I told you what's behind these murders?"

"If you may." Luna yielded.

"This happened last time too. My fiddle disappeared and then we heard the victim scream. Vinyl thinks there's some dark magic in my fiddle."

"My word!" Luna exclaimed. "Let us seize that instrument at once!"

"The fiddle reappeared back in my case after the first murder," Fiddlesticks directed. "I reckon it's there now."

With a mighty glow, Princess Luna teleported the entire group back on stage just as the guards returned. Fiddlesticks opened up her case and showed them the fiddle and the bow.

"Anybody got a newspaper?" Vinyl Scratch checked.

"Here's one," said one of the guards. Luna picked up the instrument as the guard showed her the article covering Fine Tuner's murder. The picture may have been black and white but so were the results. Luna and Fiddlesticks matched the wounds to the frog of the bow and the scroll of the fiddle.

"How did these slayings happen?" Luna wanted to know.

"I don't know." Fiddlesticks shook her head. "I heard it play 'Apple in the Straw', then all of a sudden, the victim screamed."

"I think there must be a connection to these murders," Octavia said. "Both of them were members of this orchestra."

"You don't mean Fiddlesticks' violin is cursing this group, is it?" the double bass player suggested.

"First, it's a fiddle," Fiddlesticks insisted, "and second, after Fine Tuner was killed, I was made second chair. I reckon my fiddle killed the first chair because of it."

"Next thing the fiddle's going to ask for is for you to play my solo," one of the second violins said.

CLICK!

The lights went out filling the auditorium with screams. Everypony drew towards Luna's sparkling mane for comfort as she looked about the room from side to side.

"W-was it something I said?" the second violinist's voice trembled.

"We mustn't separate, my little ponies," Luna directed. "We shan't stop until this instrument is brought to justice."

"Fiddlesticks," Octavia gasped, "we can catch this fiddle in the act. What was the song it played again?"

Before Fiddlesticks could answer, the melody of the instrument played again, now closer than ever. As the rest of the ponies except for Princess Luna trembled, she yelled, "That's it! That's it!"

Luna's horn lit up as her royal Canterlot voice shook the entire concert hall. "THOU HAST PLAYED THINE LAST TUNE, FIDDLE!" As the other ponies cowered, ear-splitting cracks of a fiddle and bow being torn apart echoed through the auditorium. She then used her alicorn magic to light up the room once more and inspect the pieces scattered throughout the stage. The gang then heard a loud sneeze and out of the corner of her eye, Fiddlesticks saw a chair in the audience getting bucked from its force. She, Octavia and Vinyl Scratch walked down the steps to the audience where they followed the sound of teeth chattering. Hunched over in the middle rows was somepony Fiddlesticks recognized immediately.

"It's you!" Fiddlesticks pointed at the woodcarver in his ten-gallon hat. "What are y'all doin' in Canterlot?"

"M-me?" the stallion whimpered, covering his head with his hat. "I-I just came to enjoy the music."

Luna hovered over the stallion and lifted his hat with her alicorn magic.

"You're a unicorn!" Fiddlesticks exclaimed, lowering her brow. "Wait a minute. That fiddle didn't have any dark magic, you enchanted it!"

"Yes! I confess!" the stallion broke down. "I killed the two violin players! It was me!"

"Guards!" Luna commanded. "Seize him at once!" The criminal unicorn put his forehooves in the air as the two guards apprehended him.

"After you traded your fiddle with mine," he explained, "I followed you to Canterlot because I wanted to see you follow your dreams. When you didn't pass the audition, I used your fiddle to kill one that did."

"And the first chair when I gave her second," Octavia added.

"That's right." the stallion nodded.

"No wonder the fiddle kept disappearing," Fiddlesticks said. "You were using your unicorn magic."

"I hope thou art happy." Luna sneered at him. "Two innocent ponies have been victimized by thine cold-blooded hooves and horn. Therefore, I also order you to return Fiddlesticks' original fiddle before your night court session tonight. Guards, escort him to the holding cell in the dungeon."

The stallion hung his head in shame as the guards forced him out of the auditorium. Fiddlesticks, Luna, Vinyl Scratch and Octavia reunited the rest of the musicians on stage.

"He had a lot of motive just to see somepony succeed," Vinyl commented. "I'll give him that."

Prologue

Author's Note

EDIT: Few corrections fixed.

Prologue

The dimly lit homes and lantern-adorned streets of Ponyville together could not match the bright spirits of Nightmare Night festivities. Costumed colts and fillies counted their sweets and bits after their trek from house to house, undaunted by the playful laughs and screams from an after party at nearby Sugarcube Corner. If she wanted, Pinkie Pie, thrower of the liveliest parties in Ponyville, could make it last all the way until Celestia raised the sun the following morning. But alas, when Pinkie Pie in her zombie makeup and tattered clothes—much to the disgust of Rarity in her ghost bride costume—stepped on the counter, it had to end. Perhaps the most upset of the crowd was the youngest pony in her cute little green inchworm costume.

"Aww," the filly begged as the party-goers filed for the exits, "Pinkie Pie, can't we go another hour, please?"

"Sorry, Apple Bloom, no can do." Pinkie shook her head, her dyed black mane bouncing every which way. "You have school tomorrow. Can't have you falling asleep in class."

"She's right, little sis. I got a busy day ahead of me, too," Applejack, dressed in witch's robes and a crooked hat in place of her Stetson, agreed.

"Eeyup," Big Macintosh in his plate mail armor affirmed, sliding down the hinge on his helmet.

The three farm siblings thanked Pinkie Pie and the Cake family before heading out of Sugarcube Corner for the night. Big Mac hooked his trusty lantern's handle over his helmet and guided his sisters across Ponyville's cobblestone paths, his armor clanking with each step. The town draped in its post-Nightmare Night attire looked dark and gloomy, save for a hooded pegasus colt once armed with eggs getting the scare of his life. No apologies in all of Equestria could have saved the young prankster from the wrath of angry parents and a justice-seeking homeowner. They ignored the commotion and continued their walk out of town, passing through the nearly bare trees of their orchards and letting the fiery leaves crunch beneath their hooves. Finally, they arrived at their farmhouse, no lit windows to greet them as they halted at the desolate front porch.

"I reckon Granny Smith went to bed," Applejack said with a shrug.

"Ee-nope," Big Mac spoke, muffled through his helmet.

"Come again, big bro?" Apple Bloom asked him. Her brother relaxed the lantern on the ground, lifted his helmet and then pointed to the front door.

"Ee-nope," he repeated more clearly. Applejack trotted over to the doorway where a note lay attached to the knob. She snatched it to hold underneath the moonlight and read it out loud.

"Meet me in the storm cellar. Love, Granny."

"The storm cellar?" Apple Bloom wanted to know. "Why would Granny Smith be there of all places?"

"Let's get outta these costumes first," Applejack suggested, "then we'll find out."

The three farm siblings retreated inside and took but a few minutes to change out of their Nightmare Night costumes. Applejack helped her brother slide his horse collar back around his neck who unzipped Apple Bloom out of her inchworm disguise. They then trotted back outside to where the hens slept peacefully in their huts. They slowed to a near tiphoof as they passed the last hut in the row where two gigantic wooden doors rested on the ground on the other side. Applejack bit the handle and pulled it all the way open with her earth pony strength, jumping out of the way before it slammed to the ground.

"Granny Smith?" Applejack called down. "You in there?"

"Come on in, y'all!" squealed Granny Smith from the depths of the storm cellar.

Big Mac guided his sisters down the steps and placed the lantern dead center in the room. The dim rays shone gently on their grandmother who rocked steadily in her chair with a toothless, yet existent smile.

"Have I ever told y'all 'bout the tale of 'The Body that Quit'?" Granny Smith inquired.

"Ee-nope."

"Can't say I have."

"Nuh-uh."

"Oh, it was terrible!" Granny Smith clasped her face in mock fright, accidentally knocking over her walker. "When the arthritis kicked in, the hips could no longer move on their own! The poor body was doomed to bedrest and-"

"Gran?" Applejack interrupted the tale. "What are ya doin'?"

"Ain't that how y'all tell a scary story?"

"Uh, Granny," Apple Bloom sighed, "that ain't scary. It was just weird."

"Wait 'til ya get to be MAH age, young 'uns," Granny scolded her grandchildren. "If growin' old won't scare y'all, Ah don't know what will."

"That's why ya called us over?" Applejack fished the note from underneath her Stetson. "You were gonna tell us some stories?"

"It's still Nightmare Night, ain't it?" Granny Smith leaned forward in her rocking chair. Any wider of a grin on her face and her dentures may have popped out of her jaws, sending the other three ponies in the cellar sprinting for their lives.

"But Big Mac and I have ta prepare for cider season tomorrow," Applejack reminded her.

"And it's a school night," Apple Bloom added.

"Oh, what harm could it do?" Granny Smith cast off their excuses. "Nightmare Night's still young. Y'all still have time for one more scare at least."

Her grandchildren shuffled in front of her on their haunches. "I reckon there's no harm in that," Applejack said finally.

"Then I've got a good one for y'all." Granny Smith leaned forward in her chair. "One that's not about growin' old. Listen close..."

Interlude 1

As the elderly farmpony finished her tale, her three grandchildren snapped back to reality from their trip to yesteryear. Big Mac never moved from his position and never so much as felt any comforting tug from Applejack. Apple Bloom meanwhile shuffled away from her big sister and let go of her hoof. Applejack did not let her get away that easily, giving her a gentle noogie to calm her nerves.

"Poor Apple Bud," Apple Bloom sighed. "I reckon he couldn't see the poisoned apples since it was so dark."

"That's what he gets for snackin' on the job." Applejack rolled her eyes.

"Between you and me," Granny Smith's voice softened to a near whisper, "Apple Bud wasn't the brightest firefly in the lantern. He couldn't tell apple juice from apple cider."

"Kinda like you, Big Mac," Applejack chuckled.

"Ee-uh, excuse me?" Big Mac shot back as the three females giggled.

"I reckon you and Apple Rose had to work extra hard during apple bucking season since he was out for so long," Applejack guessed.

"We lost him for three weeks," her grandmother continued. "Some good came out of that, though. It only took me a few days to work off the pie I ate that night. Wish I could do that these days."

"What did y'all do to that tree anyhow?" Apple Bloom asked.

"Didn't do no good keepin' it around," Granny Smith explained. "When morning came, the first thing we did was gather its lumber and apples. We didn't want to get any other ponies sick so we threw it all away."

"Thanks, Granny, I liked that story," Applejack hoisted herself back on all fours. "Well, we best be headin' home now."

"Not so fast, big sis," Apple Bloom interrupted. "I reckon I can tell a scarier story than you, Granny Smith."

"Ooh," Granny Smith cooed, kicking back on her rocker, "let's see what ya got."

"This oughta be good." Applejack sat back down.

"Just you wait, Applejack," Apple Bloom warned her. "This'll scare the hat clear off ya..."

Epilogue

"So, how do y'all like them apples?" Applejack chuckled, giving her Stetson a twist.

"A fiddle possessed by a deranged unicorn?" Apple Bloom sneered at her sister. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Sometimes the scariest things can't live," Applejack told her. "Unicorn magic will sometimes leave you paranoid. You think the objects they're moving are watching your every move before they come out and get ya." Applejack clapped her forehooves, making Apple Bloom flinch.

"Eeyup." Big Mac nodded.

"And Fiddlesticks tells me," Applejack continued, "she's still haunted by the melody the fiddle played before it struck at her victims. She can still hear it play in her ears."

"Hey!" Apple Bloom gasped. "I think I hear it now."

"Hear what?" Applejack put a hoof to her ear.

"Someone's playing 'Apple in the Straw'!" Apple Bloom exclaimed.

"Come on, little sis," Applejack gulped. "Don't play games with me."

"Applejack?" Granny Smith warned her granddaughter. "I don't think she's makin' it up."

The four farm ponies sat motionless in the room, a scratchy fiddle playing the jiving melody. The family shrunk on their haunches, Granny Smith on her rocker, as the music came closer and closer until it sounded like it was being played right above the storm cellar.

"Don't panic," Applejack squeaked. "It'll stop playing soon."

The music stopped.

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Applejack shrieked. Granny Smith climbed onto Big Mac's withers and he, Apple Bloom and Applejack galloped out of the storm cellar. They sprinted across their farm, past the hen huts until they reached their farmhouse. Applejack opened the door to let her sister, brother and grandmother inside before she slammed the door shut. The four then split up to their bedrooms to hide under the covers. Outside behind the storm cellar, two mares shrugged.

"Yeah, Tavi," one of them sighed, "you should stick to the cello."