The house only made these noises when Apple Bloom was home alone. Although she lay motionless in her bed, creaks and rattles whispered into the night so quietly that if she pressed one ear to her pillow and held her breath, the sounds stopped. She knew they were there, though, and she hated them for being silent until the rest of her family was out of town.
Nothing but the taunting of a foal’s imagination, Applejack had told her. Nopony alive didn’t hear sounds somewhere if they listened hard enough, she had said. Apple Bloom had never been anypony else, but her sister tended to be right about these sorts of things.
She rolled to one side, grunted, and rolled back over again. On a small table next to her bed, a green clock in the shape of an apple read 2:45. Sighing, Apple Bloom shifted beneath her blankets until her eyes found the ceiling, forelegs flat to her sides. Maybe if she kept quiet enough, the sounds would be quiet, too.
It didn’t work. She sat upright, ears twitching. One creak was probably nothing, maybe wood giving beneath the weight of furniture. Two creaks in succession could be somepony downstairs, though. Or maybe the creaks were coming from the stairs themselves, and whatever was causing them was searching for something. The rattles were easier to explain, probably a window or cabinet she hadn’t closed all the way, and wind was knocking it around. But there was always the chance that whatever was coming up the stairs was trying to open locked doors as it creaked through the shadows.
None of it was particularly scary. Apple Bloom flopped back into her sheets, bouncing lightly off the springs before lying motionless again. A few strands of her mane draped over her eyes, tickling her forehead. Just as she stuck out her jaw to blow the hairs away, she heard a new sound—singing.
If sleep hadn’t come by now, there wasn’t much sense in waiting for it. Apple Bloom threw her blanket aside and hopped out of bed, landing with a few creaks of her own. The softer sounds no longer concerned her now, with her ears only searching for the direction the song was coming from.
Apple Bloom pushed her bedroom door open, slowly as to not add another creak to the tally. Her hooves slid silently across the carpeted hallway as her ears flicked around. The singing—though as she drew closer, it was more like chanting—seemed to be drifting from a room at the end of the hall, along with a rhythmic creaking. She bent her knees more, crouching lower with each step. The further she went from her own door, the clearer the chanting and creaking became.
As she neared the end of the hallway, it was clear the sound was coming from Granny Smith’s bedroom. The door was already open, though Apple Bloom could have sworn it had been shut the day before. Peering around the corner, she saw everything in her grandmother’s room was still as fallen snow, with the exception of the rocking chair facing the corner opposite her. She could only see the back of it as it creaked one way, slowed, stopped, and creaked the other way. While the chair shifted back and forth, Granny Smith’s raspy voice whispered unintelligible words into the air.
“Granny? Granny, is that you? I thought you went with AJ and Big Mac to, uhm... to...” Come to think of it, had her brother and sister even told her where they’d gone?
The chanting and squeaking stopped abruptly. Apple Bloom paused, uncertain of what to say or do next, until she heard her grandmother respond.
“Go to bed, child. I’m watching the moon.”
Apple Bloom squinted, peering further into the room. Her eyes weren’t adjusting to the darkness at all. She couldn’t make out her grandmother through the shadows, or anything else on that half of the room save for the back legs of the rocking chair. The only window—through which barely any light came—was on the opposite side of the room from the chair. And chairs and windows aside, what was Granny Smith doing home? Had the creaking and rattling from earlier been her grandmother arriving in the night and coming here?
“Granny, the window’s over there. That’s a wall you’re looking at. And when did you get back? Did AJ and Big Mac come home with you?”
There was another silence, short but uncomfortably long, before Granny Smith spoke again. “It’s a red moon tonight.”
“What?” Apple Bloom said as her grandmother started rocking again. “A red moon? You mean like an eclipse?”
“Red, over black branches with no leaves—nnnngh—dry like bones!” For a moment the creaking stopped again, and then it was there again, faster than before. Apple Bloom could barely see the legs of the rocking chair as they dipped in and out of the dark corner of the room.
“Huh? Granny, slow down! You’ll fall—”
“Red, red, red like blood, red red red red red red red reaaugh—!”
There was a crash, and the creaking stopped. “Granny Smith!” Apple Bloom ran through the doorway, able to make out more and more as she crossed the room. The dresser by the bed, the mirror on the wall, and the corner of the room, empty, save for a lone rocking chair on its side.
Apple Bloom backed away. “G-Granny? Where are you?” Silence was her only answer. The house was quiet as a graveyard, without creaks or rattles or singing. It was as if all the world had stopped breathing, except for her own quickened gasps. As she moved backwards to the door, her legs criss-crossed and she stumbled. She twisted and caught herself on four hooves mid-fall, and before she even fully stood back up she was clambering into the hallway.
The air was colder now, so much so that Apple Bloom felt a tingling as goosebumps spread across her skin in waves. She made it to her bedroom in seconds, no longer caring about staying quiet—only to find the door was locked tight.
“Nnngh!” Wrapping two hooves around the doorknob and pressing her other legs to the floor, Apple Bloom tugged and yanked and pulled harder than her brother could pull a plow, but to no avail. One pull, one more, and suddenly the doorknob snapped off with a crack. She fell backwards, landing on the carpet with a thud, and saw the knob and even the door itself had turned to rough gray stone. It stood like a wall between her and the sanctuary of bed, where she could wait for the sun to rise and pretend this was all a dream. Standing up, she turned her head to look down the hallway.
The shadows shifted, quicker than a blink, then everything was still. If she held her breath, Apple Bloom could hear the faintest sound of something moving in the darkness.
She was down the stairs in seconds, her ragged breaths descending into panicked whimpers. As she passed by shut windows, her peripheral vision caught glimpses of dim scarlet light leaking through the shutters. Apple Bloom sprinted through the kitchen, past a set of chairs, and skidded and slipped on smooth wood as she took a sharp left. Recovering slower than she could afford, she bounded to the front door in a single jump, landing next to a rack with several hats and her own hanging crusader cape.
On either side of the door, thin windows rose as high as the entrance itself. Through them, Apple Bloom saw the sky was a dark maroon, growing more and more crimson until the sky met the moon. It was the color of blood and glared at her from its place above the trees. As her eyes fell back to the earth, she saw the apple trees surrounding her home were blacker than the darkest shadows, like silhouettes of skeletal claws rising from the dirt. Even the ground itself was the color of coal, so much so that she couldn’t tell where the trees' roots ended and the soil began.
For a moment, Apple Bloom could only stare, motionless. What had done this to her family’s land? What was it going to do to her?
Something crashed to the floor in the other room. Instantly, she flung the screen door aside, tearing the bottom half slightly. Apple Bloom fumbled the front door’s knob in her hooves, turning it this way and that, but the door wouldn’t open. She looked beneath the knob to see the twisting lock held the door shut, and the piece turned to open it wasn’t just broken, it was melted. The brass handle was flattened to the door, singeing and cracking the wood along its metallic edges.
"Applesauce!" Apple Bloom slammed her hoof flat against it. The metal was colder than ice.
She turned away from the door, shivering. The air was dry and frigid, like the inside of a freezer at Sugarcube Corner. Apple Bloom reached for the rack and her crusader cape, only to find her hoof grabbing at nothing. Just then, something moved in the edges of her vision, and she spun around to see the tip of her crusader cape disappearing around the corner and into the other room.
Bringing up a hoof to muffle her own scream, she backed away slowly from the door. The rack where her cape was hung had been less than five feet from where she stood. Whatever had taken the cape must have thought it was her.
Several slow, even steps took her away from the door, her eyes never leaving the corner around which her cape disappeared. Once she was far enough away, she turned entirely and her steady walk turned to running—until she faltered and tumbled to the floor.
“Nnnngh...!” Her back left leg went numb, flopping uselessly on the hardwood floor. Apple Bloom lay there for a moment, breathless. She couldn't feel her leg. Something was after her and her family was missing and she couldn't feel her leg. Tears stung her eyes as she ran a hoof across her limp thigh, and whimpered when she felt nothing. What in Equestria was happening to her?
Struggling to steady herself, Apple Bloom limped on three legs around the corner, her limp leg dragging across the floor like a heavy sack. Finding herself in the kitchen again, she saw the stairs not twenty feet away. But as she hobbled across the room and past the open pantry, a low, drawn-out hiss emanated from somewhere behind her.
Immediately she dove through the pantry door, sliding into one of the shelves. Her numb leg stuck out at an awkward angle, but in the darkness Apple Bloom couldn’t tell if it was broken. At least it didn’t hurt.
Outside the pantry, the hissing became breathing that grew louder and closer every second. Suppressing her shivers, Apple Bloom felt around the darkness for something—anything—that she could use as a weapon. All she found were the familiar round shapes of apples.
The breathing turned into tortured, raspy groans as it drew closer. Apple Bloom held her own breath, clutching an apple in the crook of her hoof. She could hear steps now, scraping and scratching across the wooden floors of the kitchen. Then, with sudden impulse, she shut her eyes tightly and threw the apple as hard as she could out the open pantry door.
She heard it land and roll somewhere back by the front door. The sound of breathing and steps stopped for a second, then continued, this time fading away. Apple Bloom let out a silent sigh and pushed herself up. The numbness in her leg had spread a few inches up to her flank, forcing her to lean more to one side in order to stand, but she could still walk.
Making sure not to touch the door or the wall, Apple Bloom exited the pantry. The air in the kitchen had a horrible smell now, almost like sour milk. Trying not to gag, she made her way to the stairs and began limping up them, one at a time. If she could make it upstairs, surely one of the doors had to be unlocked. She could break a window, get out onto the roof, and find a way down.
Cresting the staircase, she turned to the first door, her brother’s. Locked. The door rattled as she tried to turn the handle, louder than she could afford. Then, just as her own door had done, the wood hardened to solid stone. Apple Bloom held in a gasp as the doorknob cracked and fell, but she managed to catch it just before it hit the floor.
Silent as a shadow, she ducked low as she could and slid to the next door, even her dragging leg making no sound. The guest room door was already stone, cold and rough to the touch. Her own bedroom was still as gray. At the end of the hall, she could see Granny Smith’s room, silent as ever, had its door shut tight, most likely locked. But across from it, Applejack’s bedroom door was wide open, turned into the hall.
Apple Bloom made it to the door. The loss of feeling in her leg had spread further up her flank and even to the lower part of her hip, and the rest of her body shivered. With every step, the air grew more and more frigid, so much so that her eyes stung to open. As she ducked inside the room, she turned and tried to close the door slowly, but put too much weight on her numb leg and fell forward, slamming the door shut. With a gasp, she stood and turned, only to find that the windows that had always lined her sister’s room were gone, replaced with solid wooden walls.
Whatever was downstairs surely heard the door. Hobbling across the room, Apple Bloom did the only thing she could do—crawl into the bed and pull the sheets over her head. Maybe if she waited here, and didn’t look, it would go away and the sun would come out.
After what seemed like hours, she heard the first slow, scratching step, accompanied by the creaking of old wooden floors. The door hadn’t even opened, and yet something was clawing its way across the bedroom towards her. Wheezes and hisses dripped through the air behind her as she shut her eyes tighter to hold back tears.
Apple Bloom tried and failed to hold back a whimper, pulling the blanket closer as she wrapped it around her shoulders. Her own cries became shrieks in her ears, almost as if the space beneath the blanket was an echo chamber. Shivering had become shaking, and her chest was sore and tight from ragged, uneven panting, but she would not look. No matter how close the shuffling and creaking and breathing came, she would not look, and the noises would go away.
She would not look. She would not look, and it would all be okay.
The noises stopped and the world was quiet. Apple Bloom held her own breath as best she could, but still a few whimpers escaped her lips.
She would not look, she would not, she would not...
Apple Bloom lowered the blanket and turned her head.
In the darkness, two tiny red eyes glinted like rubies. They stared at her, whatever creature they belonged to shrouded by the night. For several silent seconds, she held its gaze, until the numbness from her leg suddenly claimed her other limbs and she fell back to the bed, screaming.
“No! No, leave me alone! P-please!”
Hisses and shrieks were the only answer. The eyes glowed brighter, and the loss of feeling crept through her chest and up her neck.
“Nnnngh—No! No, no no no, get away! Help! Somepony!”
Numbness climbed into her throat, and her words failed. All that came out of her was a single, drawn out scream as the cold hardness crawled up her cheeks and covered her eyes. The ruby pinprick eyes disappeared as blindness claimed her vision, and as her screams died in her throat, another voice echoed in her ears...
“Apple Bloom!”
She shot up, screaming. It was warmer now, and every part of her felt it. Slowly, slowly, the world came into focus, and she recognized her sister as the pony embracing her. Behind her, Fluttershy was wiping tears from her eyes, Granny Smith had fallen asleep by the window, and beside her was Twilight Sparkle, panting and sweaty. The light on her horn fizzled and went out, just as Applejack pulled away.
“Never again! You n-never go into that forest again, no matter who’s with you!” Apple Bloom couldn’t tell if her sister was angry or relieved. She couldn’t tell much of anything right now. Regardless, she stammered out a reply.
“Y-Yeah, Applejack, I won’t... Nnngh...” She fell back into her pillow as a sudden headache took hold. “What happened? I was trying to sleep, then Granny Smith was singing, then...” Bright red eyes flashed in her mind, and she shut her own tighter.
“Don’t you worry about it now, okay?” Applejack said. “It took Twilight a long time to turn you back after what that bird beast did, and the both of you need some rest.”
Twilight groaned, “No argument here.”
Apple Bloom was too exhausted to ask questions. Her sister gave her one last hug, and as she pulled away, Apple Bloom closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the room was cold and dark once more. The house creaked and rattled so quietly that she could barely hear it, but she recognized them as the sounds the house made whenever she was home alone.
