It was a cool, autumn night. The leaves from the seemingly infinite array of apple trees grew from their green hues to those of orange, red, and yellow. They fell ever so gently onto the ground, resting on large roots and soft grass. The wind, the cause of the leaves' traversing, was crisp, cool, and lulling. At the edge of it all was a farm house. A farm house that once belonged to the infamous Apple Family. It used to be bustling with life as mares and stallions went to and fro, cleaning up from their hard labor. Now, only one mare cared for it all. Only one mare stood outside the open doorway, leading into the cool, night air. Only one mare stood there, allowing her tears to stream down her face as she looked outwards, and into the darkness that cascaded over the apple forest. Only one mare. Only one scarred, heartbroken, failed mare.
Applejack allowed herself to slump against the doorframe, hitting her head in the process, and mourn over the horror that had taken so many innocent lives. Her sobs were short and loud, wheezing and hiccupping in between. She had never seen any sort of carnage like that. She never saw carnage at all. Carnage, vengeance, and horror. She had never dreamt of anything like it. She had heard of ghost stories in the past, but those were just that. Stories. Now, she wished that those kinds of stories, those that had promised the protagonists safety in the end, to have happen instead of this. The memories of her sharing those kinds of stories to her cousins and family broke her even further. Her sobs turned into sudden wails, then, while she slid down the frame, turned into heartbroken screams. Her whole family was gone. Her whole world was gone. She was gone. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. No beam of sunlight at the edge of the storm. No sign of happiness. No sign of sanity. No sign of life worth living. Those only belonged to stories, now.
Stories.
It all happened a week before. The entire family of Sweet Apple Acres went to work earlier than they had, for Autumn was about to end, bringing Winter along for its turn in the yearly spotlight. Applejack and a few of her fellow companions set hoof onto the bases of the wide expanse of apple trees and went straight to work. Apple Bloom was kept under a keen eye by Macintosh, a broad, red stallion whose primary objective was to pull along the large carts of apples into the farm to be transformed into delicious, delicate pastries and strong, invigorating cider. Or so he thought. Instead, keeping the bright yet mischievous yellow filly out of trouble was his task for the day. Apple Bloom had been involved with a mishap with some of the farm equipment the day before, ramming several hoes, rakes, and pitchforks into the (thankfully) empty barn. She wanted to show a temporary member of the Apples, a young colt without a Cutie Mark, his talent, and thought it was a good idea to take on the task of using sharpened tools as his gift.
It obviously wasn't the brightest of her ideas.
Alas, Big Brother Macintosh kept her in view. Her little punishment (albeit a punishment for him as well) was to be over at midday, and he longed for that. He needed to get the apple carts up and out of the way so that the hard-working family can continue their work. He kept on watching the little filly as Applejack kept bucking the apple trees. Her strong hind legs were plunged half-force into the weakening tree trunks, allowing apples of all kinds to fall into the wooden buckets below. A few of the apples fell beside them, but that wasn't a problem. A young mare, Apple Fritter, helped pick up the fallen apples and placed them in the proper place. The Apple Family wanted to make sure that every healthy apple was used in their works, so that there could be leftovers for them during the harsh winter months. And those harsh winter months were approaching fast.
Before they knew it, it was noon, and Apple Bloom was free to go. Macintosh, relieved, went to his preferred duties most efficiently. Granny Smith, the good-natured elder, began to turn the apples, brought in by Macintosh and a few other stallions, into the treats and foodstuffs requested by the village ponies. Sweet Apple Acres was the number one in food providers for Ponyville. They were looked upon with pride and joy, and the Apple Family made a good profit in the end. The profession kept its pace up well unto the evening. Apple Bloom, after another long day of misadventure with her partners-in-crime, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, returned home. As the family readied themselves for another long day, Apple Fritter had the right mind to share a little story with Applejack. They sat near the shed, accompanied by a lantern that provided little warmth, yet a good amount of light.
"Have you ever heard of the Raggedy?" Apple Fritter asked with a mockingly spooky tone. Applejack raised a brow: "What in the hay are ya on about? What's a 'Raggedy'?" Fritter gave a slight sly smile. She had read about a small tale concerning the so-called "Raggedy" when visiting the Golden Oaks Library, long before it burned to the ground one fateful day. "Oh, it's a terrifyin' beast, Ah tell ya. A horrible monstrosity to be reckoned with!" She leaned close to Applejack, who shifted slightly in her spot by the shed. Fritter, the green-maned ghost-storyteller, continued, "It was heard that the Raggedy used to be just an ordinary scarecrow, made for a long-dead ancestor of our family at this very spot. Well, the Acres, Ah mean. Ya know?" Applejack nodded.
"Yeah. The Raggedy was a scarecrow made by the parents of that filly. The uh, long-dead...whatever. Anyway, the filly loved that scarecrow to death. In fact, she took it everywhere with her. To the village, to the fields, to the city, to the bathroom!" Both of the mares giggled a bit. "Then, one night, a crazed murderer went loose, and killed the filly in her bedroom. And a horrible time she had before her demise. They say, she hugged that scarecrow-doll as she bled to death, whispering her last words into it before passing away. The next mornin', her parents found her corpse. But there was no sign of the doll. From then on, ponies, young and old, mare and stallion, filly and colt, went missin' without a trace. Worse yet, the only telltale sign of how they recognized that it was the Raggedy was the streaks of blood, sprinkled with straw."
Apple Fritter leaned back. Applejack, wide-eyed, thought about the story her cousin had just told her for a brief moment, then regained her composure. "Heh. Good one, Fritter. Ah never knew ya had a knack for scary stories." The yellow mare that sat before her lost her smile, but kept a dark stare that seemed to pierce her soul. "Some, most, ponies say it ain't a story at all. There were accounts of blood and straw killin's, and there certainly was a crazy psychopath that killed a filly. And there was a scarecrow-" "Alright, alright, enough," Applejack cut her off, "Sure those things had happened, sadly to say, but there is no way anypony, let alone a filly, could haunt as a scarecrow of all things! If that was true, we wouldn't use 'em at all!"
A sudden chill went through the air as the lantern flickered out. The two mares stood up, shivering in response to the sudden drop in temperature. "We should get inside, Fritter. It's gettin' colder by the minute!" Fritter agreed as she picked up the lantern in her mouth and headed for the farmhouse. As soon as they said their goodnights and parted ways, Apple Fritter made herself cozy beneath her covers and drifted off to sleep. Applejack wasn't so lucky. For some reason, for some awful, unknown reason, she simply couldn't shake the image of a monstrous scarecrow looming over an unsuspecting victim, chomping down on her head as blood and brains sprayed all over the ground and seeped into the creature's glistening teeth protruding from its burlap skin, creating a tear that spread into a smile, its burning red eyes oozing with blood as it trickled down its face as it roared with fierce agony and hunger-
"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Applejack screamed, covering her mouth with her forehooves as soon as she did. Why did she think of that? What in the right mind could that ever be made into a Celestia-forbidden thought? Why was it so...vivid? Why was it crystal clear and sharp as day? Applejack shook the remaining thoughts of it from her head and reassured herself that it was nothing more than a sick fairytale. It was just a ghost story. That was all it was, right? Of course it was. And yes, stories like that can produce disturbing imagery like that, making the morbid results burn into the skulls of anyone who dared listen to them. That was common in truly good horror stories. The orange mare gave a small chuckle. It certainly did give her a fright. An awful fright, at that. She calmed herself down and closed her eyes. It was a long while before she fell asleep. However, her dreams weren't as nice and sunny as she hoped.
Something was off. Something was definitely off, and she could feel it. Despite the uneasiness she experienced the night before, Applejack was ready to get back to another long, yet exciting day at the farm. However, a sense of dread lingered in the back of her mind. It was faint in comparison to her other thoughts, but it was there. It sat in the back of her mind, warning her about...something. But what? What could it possibly be warning her about? She was strong enough to take care of herself in tough situations, and if she wasn't, her friends would be there to help her. But this was different. This was very different. It told her to stay away. To stay away from whatever she's been warned about. It told her to keep a very long distance away from the impending danger lingering over yonder. And worst of all, this told her to keep her family out from its horrid path. She had to keep her family safe. But why? What was out there? Why would she-
"Hey, Applejack!" a familiar voice cut off her worrying thoughts, allowing her to shake off whatever the hay that trance was. Sure enough, it was her little sister. The yellow filly pranced along her way over to her big sister with a cheesy smile. Applejack thought she was going to ask to go somewhere where she could try out her other ideas to the new colt in town, only to break something, or somepony, instead. But, to her surprise, Apple Bloom gave her sister a big hug, thanking her for the wonderful gift she had given her. "Wait...what?" the orange mare questioned her sister, "Ah haven't bought you anythin'. You okay, sugarcube?" Apple Bloom giggled in response, "Yeah ya did, silly! Ah found it a little way from the clubhouse. And she's beautiful! In fact, Ah'm gonna show it to the girls right now!"
And with that, the filly galloped off to show her friends whatever gift Applejack supposedly bought for her. "What in tarnation just happened?" the cowgirl asked under her breath. She pondered what kind of present she had given her without her knowing it. Then, with quick realization, she rushed over to catch her sister with the intention of finding out what it could possibly be. And with each step, that little voice grew louder in her head. She started to sweat. Her legs started to weaken. Her heart started pounding. Her instincts told her to turn the other way. It told her to run and get her family out of the way. It told her that it was too late for Apple Bloom. It was too late. Just run. Run! RUN!
She skid to a halt, just behind the clubhouse tree. The voice from earlier, once loud and sharp, had now completely vanished. Just like that. She looked from behind the tree, and caught a glimpse of whatever that little red-maned filly had mistaken for a present. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle climbed up the ladder into the trapdoor that laid above, with Apple Bloom following behind. In her mouth was a large, shaggy, scarecrow-like doll. Applejack's eyes widened. Her mouth dropped slightly as a gasp escaped from her. Where in the hay did she get that? Why was she warned about it? Could it be...could it be...
No. It couldn't possibly be the Raggedy. It wasn't real. The voice that told her otherwise was just a runaway thought. Lots of ponies had those. It wasn't uncommon to have been told something by the mind and then find out it was only the opposite. She sighed in relief, and followed them up into the clubhouse. She opened the trapdoor and stepped inside. The wooden clubhouse was surprisingly warm compared to the cooler temperature outside. To further her surprise, it was clean and tidy as well. Books were lined up nicely in the bookshelf, stuffed toys were plopped against a corner, sitting upright, and the window sills were neatly lined with ornate knick-knacks Rarity had bought for the girls as a little gift for the upcoming Hearth's Warming Eve. And there, in the center of the room, were the Cutie Mark Crusaders themselves, as well as Apple Bloom's newfound doll. That weird, creepy doll. That weird, creepy scarecrow of a doll.
The doll Apple Bloom claimed sat limply in her lap. It wore a long dress that was once beautiful and white, but now worn-down, and lined with holes near the bottom. Its "hooves" were stitched with burlap at the ends, which made them darker compared to the light brown fabric that made up the rest of its body. Black yarn served as its mane and tail, and little, black beads served as its eyes. Eyes that stared back at her. Eyes that stared back into her very soul. It lacked a mouth, which made the darned thing even creepier. And, under the light, she could see a darker blotch that covered the snout. It seemed as if it was tinted red. Red with what?
The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked back at Applejack and smiled. "Oh, hiya sis!" Apple Bloom shouted as she made her doll wave at her. The other two fillies giggled. Applejack chuckled nervously, unsure if she should let her little sister keep whatever the heck she was holding. Whatever the hell she was holding. "Hey uh, Apple Bloom...did Ah give that to ya? 'Cause Ah honestly forgot I did," Applejack responded. Apple Bloom giggled , then nodded, "Of course ya did! See? Ah have the note ya put on it!" She took a little card from under the doll's dress and showed it to her big sister. In crude hoofwriting, it said:
"To Apple Bloom, with love. She'll be with you when I'm not. Take good care of her as she'll take good care of you.
- AppleJack"
"Huh," the orange mare stated. She didn't remember writing that, nor did she remember giving her the doll. In fact, she didn't remember thinking about giving her the doll. She shuffled her forehooves as she gave a weak smile. The trio didn't notice her uneasiness and proceeded to play and chat with the doll. Applejack's façade of a smile faded as she turned and went out of the clubhouse. She was stubborn in some ways, and could easily win over the arguments she sparked between her sister. However, she knew Apple Bloom wouldn't let the doll go, especially if she mistook it as a gift from her sister. It was dishonest, yes, but it wasn't the first time she lied. And, she thought, it certainly wouldn't be the last.
That night, Applejack woke up again. The nightmare had repeated itself verbatim. The same, evil monster. The same blood and splatter. The same gleam in its dead eyes. The only differences: the victim herself, and the aftermath of her demise. The unlucky, anonymous mare was replaced with her sweet, loving little sister. The beast, the Raggedy, sunk its gleaming white teeth into her precious skull. She screamed in agony as bone, brains, and blood splattered all over the vicious, gruesome scenery. After that, Apple Bloom's body fell lifelessly. The Raggedy stared at its meal, then turned towards the nonexistent Applejack, as if breaking the fourth wall. It raised a bloody claw and waved it in a disapproving way, as if to tell her that she had done something wrong and this was her punishment. Then it lunged.
The blonde cowpony cried that night. She never cried like this before. Why was this getting to her? Why the nightmares? Why the story? Why that damned doll? She cried herself to sleep that night, but it took forever to do so. The story, the nightmare, the scarecrow...they were all to blame. They were all to blame. She was to blame. Apple Fritter. Why? Why did she tell her that damned story? What the actual hell was she thinking? What made her think that she had the guts to tell her that damned story and get away with it? No. This was the last straw. By tomorrow morning, she'll pay for that. She'll pay. She'll pay.
The next morning proved otherwise.
The Apple Family started their day early yet again. Well...most of the Apple Family, that is. "Where in the hay is Apple Fritter?" Applejack demanded. She had suffered a horrible night's rest and is eager to give the ghost-storyteller that had wrecked her lovingly sweet dreams a piece of her mind. Granny shook her head, "Ah haven't seen her at all today, sweetie. And why the yellin'? Did somethin' happen between you two? You sure look steamin' mad."
"Oh, so she thinks she can get away with it, huh? Ah have the right mind to-"
"Applejack, calm yourself! What happened? Take a deep breath and talk. Come on, now."
"No! This has to end before it begins! Ah'm sick of it already! SICK OF IT! SICK OF IT!"
Applejack screamed at the top of her lungs. Right in front of the poor old mare. Applejack didn't care. She didn't care at all. She stormed out of the house, despite the green elder's commands to come back, and marched onwards toward the apple fields. She called out for Apple Fritter angrily, scaring some of the working mares in the process. She stopped suddenly as she caught sight of...it. The doll. That damned doll. She didn't care less who was holding it, but it needed to be rid of. Once and for all. Before her sanity breaks, if it hadn't already. She stomped towards the doll with the intention of ripping off its head before-
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
A shrill scream echoed through the orchard. Applejack stopped dead in her tracks. Her anger and frustration turned to horror and surprise. She turned away and ran towards the source, leaving Apple Bloom confused and bewildered as she hugged her doll. She nuzzled her nose into the doll's neck as she recollected herself. All the while, Applejack, as well as a few other of her fellow family members, made a horrifying discovery. The source of the scream, a rose-mane, yellow-furred mare named Apple Bumpkin, was curled into a hysterically-sobbing ball at the base of a rotting tree. Further down, they saw Apple Fritter. Or, what was left of her. Her upper body was there, but the bottom half was completely ripped away from her. Her intestines were tied together around her neck and the accompanying tree branch that served as her gallows. Her eyes were gone, and only hollowness was seen. What was even more sickening was that the cool, crisp, autumn wind blew, causing her body to sway in the breeze.
Applejack was the first to lose last night's dinner. Applejack was the first to black out from the horrid scene that displayed. Applejack was the first to feel what actual fear felt like. And Applejack was the first to find out that the voice was right all along.
As she came to, her siblings were telling Granny and the other stallions what they had witnessed. Some of them were in tears, while others were hysterical and hyperventilating. One of the mares even passed out while she was telling her side of the story. Granny told them all to hush and tell her what happened one by one. None of them spoke after that. They only cried or gasped for air. Applejack hopped off the couch and trudged towards the green mare. Her eyes welled up with tears as her heart sank into her stomach as she told her what they all had seen, "Apple Fritter...she's...gone. She's dead. Apple Bumpkin was the first to discover her body. Her bottom half was torn off. Her eyes were gone. There was so much blood. It was horrible...I...I..." Applejack hugged her grandmother and sobbed. Granny Smith hugged back as her sobbing granddaughter struggled to tell the rest of the account. The stallions, not including Macintosh, lowered their heads in mourning. Macintosh stared at his sister. He wanted to console her. He wanted to tell her that it would be alright. But he found himself not doing so. He couldn't. He was as helpless as the rest of them.
Apple Fritter's body was loaded into the casket that evening. The site that had contained the bloody mass of horror was condemned. Apple Bumpkin wiped her tears with her green handkerchief frequently as the funeral went on. Applejack cried into Apple Bloom's fur as she, in turn, cried into her doll. The doll only stared as its darkened, tinted forehooves swayed to and fro with each sob.
There was no nightmare that night. There was no sleep that night. Apple Bumpkin was nestled into Applejack's chest as she slept while Applejack only stared into the darkness of her own bedroom. How did this happen? Why did this happen? What did Apple Fritter do to deserve...no. No, it wasn't true. It wasn't Applejack's fault. It couldn't be her fault. It couldn't, could it? She was angry at her this morning, but she would never kill anypony, let alone wish anypony was dead. But was it possible...was it possible that her anger towards her led to something kill her off like that? If so, was it really her fault? All these questions plagued the orange mare's mind as she stared blankly into the darkness. Only a single tear flowed down her cheek that night. A tear for a lost sibling.
A couple days had gone by without Apple Fritter. The news of her death reached Twilight and the rest of Ponyville after the funeral. Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy all went to comfort and console Applejack for her lost family member. They were all turned away, however. Each and every time they were turned down, yet they came back moments later. Finally, Applejack let them all in and escorted them into her bedroom so that they can chat in private. Meanwhile, Macintosh sat down with Granny Smith and Apple Bloom and talked about the wellbeing of their beloved Applejack.
"Ah don't know, Granny. Ah think she needs some kind of counselin'," Macintosh said solemnly, "She may be a strong gal, but she ain't herself in the slightest these past couple of days." Granny shook her head defiantly, "No. Ah don't think that's best for her! Ah know my little girl and she can power through this. She's dealt with this kind of thing before and you know it! You were there when..." She paused. She didn't want to bring up the death of her own son and stepdaughter in front of Apple Bloom. She shook her head again, "No. We'll take care of her. She'll be herself again. She'll be herself, Ah can promise you that." Apple Bloom and Big Mac looked at each other worryingly, then back at Granny, who nodded in approval of herself. "She'll be fine. As for us, we better get to preppin'." "Preppin' for what?" the little filly asked her grandma. Granny Smith responded with a pat on her red mane, "Why, for the winter, dearie. For the winter. It'll be here before you know it. And we'll have a happy Hearth's Warming. You'll see."
Night came, and the Mane 6 parted ways after a very emotional get-together. Applejack didn't know what to do next. Should she finally let the death of Apple Fritter go? Nopony knew what had killed her and it was obviously a murder, but no one captured anypony that could possibly be responsible. The Royal Guards had even questioned the whole of Sweet Apple Acres, as well as all of Ponyville. And to further it all, they checked the entire orchard, and not a single monster appeared. Fritter just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seemed. But Applejack, stubborn as she is, can't help but feel that something horrid was ahoof. Something dangerous. Something deadly. And that doll...
That damned scarecrow-doll! Applejack rushed to the scene of the murder in a flash. She had to know. She needed to know. She felt that her whole entire family depended on this one piece of evidence. She cared less for the scrapes and cuts that she got from bumping into a few trees and cared more for her piece of mind, knowing that it couldn't be true. That it was all just a story. Apple Fritter was a good cousin, and she would never pull a trick nor a prank that would be as severe as this. She stopped only when she neared the DO NOT CROSS tape that enclosed a portion of the apple forest. The portion where she found her lifeless body hanging by her own-
Applejack frantically pulled the tape over herself as she darted near the still stagnant pools of blood that stood undetected. She saw them and froze. Her eyes widened with fear as tears started to roll down her face again and her lip started to quiver. There, in that small, red puddle, were a few strands of straw. A few strands of straw that floated like rafts in a red, metallic-smelling pool. "No...no..." Applejack whispered. She grabbed her head as she shook it violently, "No...no...NO! It can't be! It can't! It just CAN'T!" She sat down on her haunches just inches from the horrid evidence and sobbed. She was scared now, and the fact that it being just a prank or a trick was as false as the sun being purple scared her even more. It was as clear as day: what killed Apple Fritter was indeed the monster she told her about. What had killed her beloved cousin was in her little sister's arms, cuddling her in her sleep-
"Oh dear, sweet Celestia…" Applejack whined in realization and terror. The Raggedy...was in her house. It was in her house at this very moment in time. It was in her home, and very much close to her sweet, little Apple Bloom. Too close to her. Way too close. With that thought in mind, she dashed for the farmhouse, praying that the family would be all in one piece and unscathed by the time she got there. She would hug everypony she knew there, and burn that wretched doll, letting that one filly and her cousin be the only kills it ever committed. If only she got there quick enough...
As Applejack left the farmhouse, Big Macintosh and Granny Smith cleared up the leftover mess in the kitchen. Apple Bloom sat in the couch with her precious doll as she read one of the books she pulled from her clubhouse. She read to it, keeping herself occupied while learning a few new words here and there. Granny smiled as she listened to her sweet, young voice repeat every word that was shown on those pages. Apple Bumpkin, accompanied by another mare, Caramel Apple, came downstairs to help out with the chores. Granny nodded in agreement, and the two mares went to work. A little bit of time passed and Apple Bloom was fast asleep, her hoof still touching the book that had fallen on the ground. Her doll was sitting right where she'd left it. Well, her doll was sitting right where she'd left it. Apple Bumpkin, having a few nightmares herself, started to yawn. "I think I'm gonna call it a night tonight. I'll see you in the morning, I guess," she cooed. Granny nodded, "You go on and get some shut-eye. Celestia knows how much sleep you got in."
Bumpkin smiled as she walked towards the staircase. She stopped, only to see the yellow filly sleeping peacefully on the couch. She yawned again and went towards the couch instead. She curled up on the empty spot Apple Bloom allowed, used her sleeping body as a nice, slow-moving pillow, and drifted off to sleep herself. Caramel Apple smiled as she leaned on the doorframe. "It's nice to see that she's finally getting the rest she needed," she whispered. As she stared at the now-sleeping Bumpkin, something was making its way towards the new colt's makeshift bedroom. It slipped in silently, and creeped over towards the sleeping colt. Its beady eyes had a certain, white mist inside, forming irises and pupils. The fabric skin that was supposed to have a mouth began to tear apart, forming a wicked smile, lined with sharpened needles for teeth. Teeth that were stained with blood. Fritters' blood. And it didn't take a second longer to wait.
There, it struck the colt, killing him in his sleep.
Nopony noticed the awoken horror that was in their own home until it was almost too late. Each and every room was splattered in blood as the silent killer struck mare and stallion, filly and colt, one by one, all in the comfort of their own beds. The Raggedy inched its way over to another unsuspecting victim. Peachy Sweet slept soundly as the horrible scarecrow-doll slid out from the door. It opened its newfound mouth again, with the intention of striking her neck to kill her off silently and swiftly. But as it got closer to her plump, green throat, she woke up. She felt that something wasn't right, that something was off, while she was dreaming. Something in her dreams told her to wake up. To wake up and run. Run as fast as she could possibly go. That was when she opened her eyes, sat up in her bed, and became face-to-face with her potential murderer. She screamed. It lunged.
Bumpkin and Bloom awoke with a start. Big Mac and Caramel Apple rushed upstairs to find out what had happened for that sudden, shrill scream. Before they reached the second floor, they could already tell it was too late. What were once screams of pain and agony were now reduced to gurgling noises, then they ceased altogether. The Raggedy, now infuriated that its method of killing went awry, burst through the now-dead mare's bedroom door without much effort. Its torn dress fluttered and waved in the nonexistent breeze, its needle-point teeth glistened with blood, its cold, dead eyes were alive and filled with hatred, and its claws, horrible and razor sharp, reflected the horrified faces of its newfound prey. The Raggedy lunged, but Big Mac was quick to get them both out of the way just in time by pushing Caramel down the stairs, tumbling down after her. The Raggedy screeched a high-pitched cackle, then a booming roar.
Apple Bloom hid underneath Bumpkin, unable to find her security doll that had suddenly vanished. They both saw Mac and Caramel tumble down the stairs and hit the floor with a loud THUD. Thankfully, they were alright. Scared, but alright. "We don't have much time! Something's comin' after us! We have to get out of here, now!" Big Mac boomed, scaring the yellow filly even further, and further worrying Bumpkin. "Why? What's going on?" she asked. Caramel put her forehooves on Bumpkin's shoulders, tears pouring down her face, "There's no time! It...we have to get out! We need to get the rest of whatever family we have left and run! RUN! RUN-"She was cut off by the sound of more screams. In a matter of seconds, another roar erupted, and the monster devoured bits, pieces, and wholes of everypony that crossed its path. Some of the gore splattered onto the walls. Body parts and organs rolled down the staircase as blood trickled down after them, and a head, one that once belonged to poor old Apple Strudel, tumbled down and landed just inches away from Apple Bloom, who, in turn, screamed at the top of her lungs. Granny Smith tried the best she could to get the remaining ponies (or what was still intact and alive) out of the Celestia-forsaken house.
Lightning flashed overhead as the family tried desperately to get away from whatever the hell was chasing them. They were once a strong, interdependent bunch. Now, it seemed that all the lessons of family and teamwork were of no use here. Everyone was for themselves. Some ponies stepped over others, snapping necks and breaking ribs in the process. Others were left to die, as they couldn't move their broken legs or gather up their own intestines in time. Blood, straw, and gore were everywhere. As the first few successful escapees raced towards the orchard, a single lightning bolt struck a large branch, causing it to land on the siblings, crushing them to death and dismembering them in some places. This caused more panic. More hysteria. More chaos. Horror ensued as Apple Bloom, Big Mac, Caramel, Bumpkin, and Granny huddled over the other side of the house, away from the onslaught and carnage. Apple Fritters' story was coming to life. No, it came to life. It came at full force, the Curse of the Raggedy did. Applejack was the only one to have known it. The rest of the family wasn't so lucky.
After what seemed like hours, the screaming finally stopped. Everypony who managed to escape were all dead. Those that were stuck inside, besides the only survivors, were long gone. The Raggedy didn't care for those that tore themselves up out in the orchard. No, it wanted the living. It wanted them. It wanted to hear their screams and feast on their warm blood as life drained from their eyes. It wanted them to suffer. To suffer, just like she did all those years ago. Big Macintosh was trying to think of some way to divert the wretched monster that was once Apple Bloom's harmless doll from targeting the mares he most cared about when Granny Smith herself stood up to the beast. Horrified of what it would do to her, he called out, "Granny, no! Get back here! It'll tear you to shreds! Ah can't let you risk your life for us!" Granny looked back at him with a set goal in mind. "Ah have to do this," she said back, "Ah can't think of anything more valuable than my own life than yours. Now go! Ah'll deal with this scarecrow for now. Ah love you, no matter what."
And with that, she faced the bloody doll, now looming over her like a fierce feline over an insignificant dormouse. Granny did not dare show any sign of fear, however, and hissed, "You leave my family alone! You ain't nothin' but a mindless ragdoll! Now why don't ya pick on somepony your own size, huh? Or do Ah have to talk some sense into you? Huh?" The Raggedy's smile grew wider and curled at the ends. The thought of something so weak and helpless trying to be brave and bold was a mere joke. It was hilarious. It was ridiculous. It was working, for the younger ponies quietly scurried away, unable to look at their beloved grandmother for the last time. In a matter of seconds, all of Granny's vital organs were now in the process of being devoured. All with a satisfying slurp.
It was cold outside. Cold and wet. Wet with either rain or blood. Or both. Big Mac, Caramel Apple, Apple Bumpkin, and Apple Bloom all huddled outside the treehouse. The thunderstorm brought on by whatever curse the thing created had burned it down, only to be doused by the pounding rain moments ago. There was no safe haven here. If they could just get into Ponyville and warn everypony about-
"GAAAAHHH!" Apple Bloom screamed. Her front hoof had impaled itself onto a stiff, naked root. It bled profusely as Caramel and Bumpkin tried to free her. Big Mac watched in horror as the Raggedy tore through the back door with its wicked-sharp claws like butter. It was coming. It was coming fast. The broad, red stallion needed to think of some way to stall for some time. That's when it struck him: the farm tools! He could use the farm tools to pin it to the ground, hopefully killing it in the meantime. He ran over to the abandoned toolshed that housed the equipment Apple Bloom used to show the now-dead colt his talent. Thinking he didn't need his talent anyway, Macintosh swiped the bucket of tools with his mouth and ran towards the monstrosity that was currently on its way. It smelled the poor filly's blood.
With a mighty grunt, Macintosh threw the bucket into the air, dodging out of the way. He hoped the sharpened tools plummeted onto the shaggy monster. They did. Rakes, trowels, and shovels impaled themselves onto the beast's back, arms, and legs, rendering it immobile. That ought to buy us some time, he thought with a smirk and a nod. He then grabbed a canister of oil and a set of matches from the same shed, doused the thing in it, and set it ablaze. Its screams echoed throughout the orchard, and all around Sweet Apple Acres. Satisfied, Macintosh raced back to aid his bleeding sister, wondering where in the hay was Applejack. Maybe she was finding her friends for help. Twilight could be of good use right now. He got to her, but time was running out. With a quick motion of his hoof, he shot Apple Bloom's leg clean off the root. The filly screamed again, followed by an array of coughs, gags, and vomit. She was too young to comprehend this much pain. Both Bumpkin and Caramel were in tears as they pleaded the red-maned child to stay with them. It was of no use.
Apple Bloom's eyes glistened for a while before blacking out, banging her head on a rock embedded in the ground. Tears rolled down as her breathing became short and shaky. Her head bled on top of the rock. The crying cousins carefully picked up the limp, little filly and placed her on Macintosh's back. He could feel warm, sticky blood oozing on his shoulders and trickling onto his legs. She was in critical condition. They needed to get to the Ponyville Medical Center fast. They didn't have much time before the Raggedy made its way over.
"AACK!"
Too late.
With a sickening crack, a whirring shovel caught Caramel's neck, decapitating her. Both Macintosh and Apple Bumpkin shrieked as it did so. The light-orange mare's body fell to the ground as her head drifted in a pool of blood that formed in the shovel's blade as it stuck to a nearby tree. With a load roar, the Raggedy tore other farm instruments off its body and shot them straight at the conscious duo. They ducked and dodged under the heavy fire of rakes and hoes as they ran for the village. A sharp trowel ran itself straight into Macintosh's leg, tripping him, and sending Apple Bloom flying into the air. She landed in a small ditch, which was unfortunately filled with rainwater. A flying rake dove in straight after her with dead accuracy. It plunged itself into the filly's hindlegs, enabling her handicapped. She struggled to keep her breath, but with each agonizing wave of pain shooting through her entire body, she couldn't help but lose her breath in heaps of air bubbles. It wasn't long until her lungs were filling with water as she struggled to kick the rake off of her. She released one last breath, then slowly succumbed to the cold, dark, watery grave she was kept in. She drowned, and her sister nor her doll kept her safe. It was all a lie. She died, knowing that the faithful Element of Honesty had lied to her.
Macintosh failed to keep the filly out of harm's way, and he felt a wave of nausea as his heart plummeted into his hooves. Where did it all go so wrong? He was supposed to save them all, not fail them! This wasn't supposed to be this way! It wasn't! Bumpkin tried to nudge the stallion off the ground, but the Raggedy gave her no choice but to flee. With tears in her eyes, she glanced back one last time before she ran into the enveloping darkness of the apple forest. Big Mac looked at his pursuing executioner. He smiled. The cold-hearted monster leaned over him, getting face-to-face with its new target. Mac only chuckled, "Ya won't find her. Ya know that? You'll never get to her. You'll never-"
The monster cut him off by slitting his throat, extending a long, black tongue towards the gaping wounds that flowed fresh, warm, delicious blood. There was only one more living creature left. With that on the menu, it swiped up the stallion's upper half with a strong whip of its claws and began the hunt anew. All the while, Applejack raced back towards the farmhouse, hoping that everypony was safe. That everypony was there, and that she can hug them all while the demon doll burned away. She stopped. She was too late. Remains of ponies scattered throughout the lawn in heaps, streaks, and pools. Even her precious dog, Winona, wasn't safe from the carnage that took place just moments ago. She was too late to save them. She was too late. She shook her head in disbelief as one, final scream echoed out from the deep, dark void that was once her beloved apple orchard.
The crisp, cool autumn air blew into the night. The leaves, once green and bursting with life, drifted onto the base of the apple trees in orange, red, and yellow variants. There were no crickets chirping. There were no frogs singing their own songs. There were no fireflies flickering their precious lights. There was only the sounds of a gentle breeze and a faint rustle of falling leaves. Winter was drawing close, but it didn't matter. There wasn't going to be any Hearth's Warming Eve. No warm cider to sip amongst family. No laughing and tears of joy when opening presents. In fact, there wasn't going to be a Winter's Wrap Up. There wasn't going to be a Hearts and Hooves Day. No Summer Solstice. No Nightmare Night. No Fall Weather Festivals. No. There was only the breeze. Only the breeze and the broken heart, mind, and soul that once ran the Acres with pride and joy.
Applejack had heard of ghost stories in the past, but those were just that. Stories. Now, she wished that those kinds of stories, those that had promised the protagonists safety in the end, to have happen instead of this. The memories of her sharing those kinds of stories to her cousins and family broke her even further. Her sobs turned into sudden wails, then, while she slid down the frame, turned into heartbroken screams. Her whole family was gone. Her whole world was gone. She was gone. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. No beam of sunlight at the edge of the storm. No sign of happiness. No sign of sanity. No sign of life worth living. Those only belonged to stories, now.
Stories.
