Old Red Eyes

It was a black and storming October night at the Apple Family Orchard. The kind of night when the wind and the rain bit down so hard it felt like Nature herself—or at least, the weather team—were out for blood, and the thunder boiled and roared so loud as no beast known to Equestria could hold a candle. These kinds of storms came about every so often; a scheduled rain had come at the same time as an errant thunderstorm out from the Everfree, and the two mixed together into a great howling monster of a night that made sensible ponies stick indoors.

Maybe it was just coincidence this came about the day after the final harvest, and the night before Nightmare Night; maybe not. The Everfree was a mysterious thing, and it seemed as likely as not it had been waiting.

A sharp gust howled and whipped through the Orchard’s trees, rattling the walls and the roof of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse. But the Apples didn’t build anything halfway; the clubhouse held, with only one leak, under which a bucket quietly collected water. The lower level was dark, but the attic window glowed against the dim with gentle yellow light.

The Crusaders sat close around the lone lantern, their damp capes draped over cozy blankets held tight around them. To the side, three sauce-smeared plates sat empty, with napkins and tinfoil wadded on top. Storm or no storm, they had resolved to spend the night at the clubhouse, telling scary stories and getting their costumes together. And come Tartarus or tartar sauce, a Cutie Mark Crusader stuck to her plans.

“And then,” Sweetie Belle said with all the menace she could muster. “Just as she lied down to go to sleep... she hung her leg over the side of her bed, like she always did. And she felt something LICKING HER HOOF!”

Applebloom and Scootaloo watched her, expectantly.

“...LICKING HER HOOF!” she repeated. More blank stares. “Oh, c’mon! Get it? Something licked her hoof!”

Scootaloo furrowed her brow. “Uh... okay? I guess that’s icky, but it’s not really scary.”

“I thought her dog ran away,” said Applebloom. “So, what, the dog was just hidin’ under the bed the whole time?”

Sweetie groaned. “Yes! Her dog ran away! That’s why it’s scary!”

Applebloom rubbed her chin. “I don’t get it. If her dog didn’t lick her hoof, who did?”

“Somepony creepy. That’s why it was scary,” said Sweetie, slumping. “At least, it scared me when Rarity told the story...”

Scootaloo sneered, wiping her hooves in her blanket. “Blech. I feel slimy just thinking about it.”

Applebloom patted Sweetie Belle on the back sympathetically. “I think ya just needed more buildup, that’s all. I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “Like, you know what would’ve really made it tense? If the Headless Horse was in the house!”

Sweetie rolled her eyes. “You already told us the Headless Horse story.”

“I’m just saying. That would’ve been way scarier.”

“Nuh uh,” said Sweetie.

“Yeah huh!” said Scootaloo. “Why not?”

“Cause you’ve told it, like, eight hundred times.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “...Yeah? And? It’s the scariest one.”

“Come ta think of it,” said Applebloom, “How’s the Headless Horse gonna lick her hoof anyway? It’s got nothin’ to lick with.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Scootaloo folded her legs, hunkering down on the floorboards. “Well if my story wasn’t scary, and Sweetie’s wasn’t scary, then how about you tell us one?”

Applebloom twisted her mouth in thought, eyes turning up to the roof. A peal of thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows and the boards of the roof as it rolled above them. Sweetie tensed and scooted closer to the lantern.

"Well," she said, "I don't reckon I have one."

"What do you mean you don't have one?" Asked Scootaloo. "You have to have one. It's your turn!"

"I mean just that. All the scary 'stories' I know are true," she said, matter-of-factly.

Sweetie swallowed. "Scary stories aren't supposed to be true."

"That's why I said I don't have a scary story.” Applebloom frowned, settling down. “I just know... y’know, scary things. About the Everfree and the orchard an’ stuff."

Scootaloo tugged her blanket closer. "Heh. Y-yeah, right... not buying it."

"I mean it!" said Applebloom. "Granny Smith tells me about things, sometimes, to keep me safe. An’ she wouldn't lie."

“It’s okay, Applebloom. Grownups tell stories,” said Sweetie Belle. “It’s normal for ‘em. Rarity tells stories, mom tells stories, dad tells all kinds of stories...”

“Well, Apples don’t,” Applebloom said. It hung in the air a moment as she settled back down, tracing her hoof on the grain of the flooring. “... There’s ‘nuff scary out there without needin’ to make stuff up about it, she tells me.”

“… I believe that you believe it,” Scootaloo said, though she was still squirming. “So, uh... tell us?”

“Y-yeah...” Sweetie smiled, nudging herself over to Applebloom’s side. “What’s Nightmare Night without a little fright?”

“… Okay,” said Applebloom, briefly returning the smile. “Well... I guess I could tell you about Ol’ Red-Eyes.”

Scootaloo stifled down her huff of indignation at Sweetie’s glance, letting their friend continue.

“The way Granny tells it, Ol’ Red-Eyes is somethin’ that probably came outta the Everfree after Ponyville got settled and the Apples started plantin’ and growin’ for the townsfolk,” she said. “She don’t know what he is or if there’s even a proper name for him. But she knows it’s a him, ‘cause she’s seen him sometimes, lurkin’ in the dark of the trees, just waitin’ for lone ponies to snatch...”

“Wait a second,” said Scootaloo. “If he snatches ponies alone, how come anypony knows about him?”

“Cause she got away from him herself once. Says it’s a Celestia-given miracle she did,” she said. “It was when she was real young... not that long after the first Zap-Apple harvest, when all the trees were bare till next year, just waitin’ to shed the rest of their leaves. Night was kinda like this, actually, just without the rain... but it was real windy, and real dark, with clouds coverin’ up the moon.”

She took a breath before continuing, eyes fixed on the lantern. “She was just out for a walk. You know, the Timberwolves were still tryin’ to take back their territory and all back then, so... had to watch out, ‘specially when it was so black out. And as she went walkin’, she heard this sound nearby—rustle-cracky sounds, like somepony was breaking branches off. But when she looked, she didn’t see anythin’... just trees getting blown in the wind.”

“So she kept on goin’. But the sound followed her, all rattlin’ and crackin’. So she started goin’ quicker, making a loop back for home... and still it followed her.” Applebloom reached over and tapped the lantern. A firefly inside woke up, adding its glow. “She saw the lights on at home. Started runnin’, didn’t even listen anymore to what was makin’ that noise. when she finally turned to look again, and in one tree... she saw a couple apples.”

“… Um.” Sweetie Belle cocked her head, glanced between the two. Applebloom looked earnest, but Scootaloo was shifting, silently avoiding eye contact. “What’s so weird about apples?”

“… I told you at the beginnin’, the harvest had just ended,” said Applebloom. “There weren’t supposed to be apples.”

“… Oh.”

“That’s why she took to call him Ol’ Red-Eyes. See... that’s what you look out for. If there’s too many apples in the tree, or there’s any apples after last harvest, you go and run indoors and you lock your windows and you don’t open anythin’ at all till the daylight. That’s what she did, and she just barely made it—by the time she’d turned around and bolted for the door, he almost got her tail.”

“W-what,” Scootaloo said, then cleared her throat. “What’d... ‘Red-Eye’ or whatever look like?”

“She didn’t see much,” Applebloom admitted. “Like I said, it was dark as dark gets. But... she said once he came outta that tree, she saw big, big eyes red as blood. He looked kinda like a big stallion, but he didn’t… quite move like a stallion, ya know?” She frowned. “She said he ran like a spider. Too many joints for a body like that.”

Sweetie had almost completely retreated into her blanket at this point, being just a pair of green eyes and a shaking horn sticking out of a bundle. “B-but she... she got away, right? Got inside? The monster didn’t... get her?”

Applebloom rolled her eyes. “No, Sweetie, Granny got caught and I don’t exist.”

Sweetie flinched... and then, realizing she’d been had, poked her head out and made a face. “Not funny.”

“No, it ain’t,” said Applebloom. “Cause she almost did. She said he was so close she could smell his breath, all rotten and moldy...”

“Yeah, o-okay, we get it, he was spooky. But then what happened?” said Scootaloo. Sweetie nudged herself back around to her side, quietly trying to calm her shakes.

Applebloom just shrugged. “Then nothin’. She didn’t see him in the windows. She didn’t hear him roamin’ around. She woke her ma and pa, but they didn’t see anythin’ either. She hasn’t seen ‘im since.”

“So... so how do you know he’s even still out there? This was, like, a hundred years ago!”

“Because she ain’t the only one who saw him.” Applebloom’s gaze fell down to the floor. “And not everypony was so lucky, y’know. Every generation, give ‘r’ take, somepony goes missin’ out in the orchard after dark... and once or twice, there’ve been… bones, stashed out in a rotten tree. … I ... I’ve found ‘em before.”

“Oh what the HAY, Applebloom!” Scootaloo threw off her blanket, pushing up to her hooves.

“C-calm down, Scootaloo,” Sweetie said. “Please? I-it’s just a story...”

“No! Scary stories are fine, whatever, b-but that is messed up telling us like it’s real and lying like that!”

“I ain’t lyin’!” she yelled, voice cracking. “Granny wouldn’t tell lies, a-and—”

“Of course she would! I-it’s a story made up to get you to keep your windows locked or something! But you’re telling us you found pony bones out there?!”

“It AIN’T LIES!” Applebloom stood up suddenly. “I don’t DO that! You know I don’t!”

“G-guh...” said Sweetie Belle, choking back tears. “Girls, please... please stop fighting...”

Scootaloo looked at Sweetie. She still felt a twist of anger in her stomach, but... she took a deep breath and started pacing, trying to let it uncoil. Applebloom sat down next to the shivering Sweetie and pulled her into a gentle hug, rubbing her back until the tears dried off. And for a moment, everything was quiet—the only sound being the thunderstorm outside cracking through the trees, high wind and cold rain pressing in against the warm little clubhouse.

“… Messed up,” mumbled Scootaloo. “So messed up.”

“It’s true,” Applebloom mumbled, and they both went quiet. Neither of them wanted to escalate that again.

Scootaloo continued pacing, twitching her wings every so often and taking deep breaths. She looked at the attic window, which gazed out over the eastern orchard. There was hardly any light coming in through the storm, but she could see shapes and silhouettes; trees as far as the eye could see, and somewhere out there, the dim glow of the Apple household, which was sure to start going dark soon enough.

“… I’ll prove it,” she said, going over to the window. “There’s no ‘Red-Eyes’. This is stupid.”

“Hey. ...Hey!” Applebloom got up, almost dropping Sweetie. “What’re you doin’?!”

Scootaloo flicked the lock and pushed up the bottom pane, leaning outside. The wind howled through the hole and blasted her cheeks, forcing her eyes shut.

“Hel-LOOOOO! Red-Eyes!” she shouted, squeezing her eyes even tighter. “You out there?! C’mon! Fresh filly, right over here!”

After a second, whimpering under her breath, she cracked them open—and in spite of herself, let out a sigh of relief. Sure enough, even through the stinging rain, she didn’t see a single monster. The only reds she saw were all the ordinary apples sitting peacefully in their trees. No eyes.

She yelped as Applebloom jerked her back in by the tail, causing her to hit the ground with a thud.

“Ow! Jeez, are you trying to rip it off?” Scootaloo stumbled back up, turning around to face them with a nervous, but apologetic smile. “Heh... see? Nothing to be afraid of, girls.”

But they weren’t looking at her. They were frozen solid, staring behind her at the open window.

Scootaloo felt warm air against the back of her neck.

It smelled sickly sweet, like moldy old apple trees.