Off on the edge of town, past the train tracks and past the wheat fields stood what remained of Jewel Estate. This large property of rolling hills and woodlands was once the residence of the richest family in town. For six generations The Jewels lived a privileged life on the outskirts of town, hosting a number of balls and banquets that attracted any number of aristocratic members of society.

Ponies traveled from all over the world to attend these lavish balls. Dozens of guests would show up and enjoy not only the luxurious amenities of the Estate's many guest rooms, but the friendly locals in town that entertained them with their humble ways as well.

Now all that was left of Jewel Estate was the ruined remains of the rundown mansion on the hill and a fragmented fence encircling the entire property. A hollow, decrepit skeleton of what it once was.

No one really knew where the Jewel family went. One day they all mysteriously disappeared without a word or warning. Some rumors spoke of a genetic disease that wiped the entire family out in a week. Others would claim the family simply moved. Over recent years, the mansion developed quite an infamous reputation. Especially among the town’s youth.

It was a silly old story. Nothing but a rumor. Tall tales spoke of ghosts that still haunted the manor, floating between worlds until their unfinished business in this world was complete. Some would say these were vengeful spirits, hunting down those who stole the wealth and riches once stored in the estate’s vaults. Others would claim the place was built on an ancient, unmarked graveyard that haunted the place endlessly and relentlessly. Again, just silly old stories with very little evidence to back them up.

For the mischievous teenagers of the town, the spooky mansion served as a test of mettle. Only those brave enough would dare cross the rusty metal fence barrier that marked the properly line. And only the even braver would venture into the mansion itself. A pony who managed to grab an old piece of junk from the many rooms of the mansion were guaranteed bragging rights for life and it was considered romantic to some teenage girls if their boyfriend managed to carve their names in one of the mansion walls. For some, it was used as a proving ground for bets and challenges.

And that’s how young Mix-Up ended up in this unfortunate circumstance. Mix-Up was a skinny pegasus, even for a stallion his age. His wings were just about the strongest part of him and saw the most work during his regular flights among the fluffy clouds in the sky. His eyes were of a bright yellowish green thanks to his mother's side of the family. His fur was a vibrant, corn flour blue with splotches of white running up his legs and covering his muzzle. His teal mane and tail was always kept a little messy as it was very likely that the teenager didn't even own a brush or comb. He really saw no need for it. A couple brushes with his hoof to take care of any bed head was enough for him.

By whatever means of fate that brought him to this path, the teenaged pegasus found himself given a simple task. All he had to do was spend a night in the mansion. That was it. He never believed in the ghost stories anyway. To him, the mansion was just a building. Sure it had some pretty neat old stuff just prime for the taking, but thinking that the whole place was guarded by some vengeful spirits was childish.

It was late in the evening on a cool spring day when Mix-Up set off for the mansion. The cobblestone path he followed out of town slowly turned to decaying flag stones the closer he got to the property. Town square faded behind him, silhouetted by the orange sun that hung low in the sky.

Before long, a rounded hill rose up to meet the young pegasus, illuminated by the fading evening light. On top the hill perched the large, derelict mansion with its many rooms and cracked windows dark in the sunset.

Was he scared? Perhaps not. More accurately he was cautious about his overnight stay at the rundown mansion. He didn’t worry about ghosts taking away his soul, but he spent a fleeting moment or two worrying about getting hit in the head with a falling support beam or catching pneumonia from the under kept rooms. He never believed the stories of restless ghosts or superstitious urban legends.

In a way he was excited. This was his opportunity to explore the old mansion without impediment. He wondered what sort of artifacts he might be able to dig up inside. Old books, medallions, jewelry, maybe even gold! It was a child like awe and wonder that drove the pegasus past the mansion's property line.

The grass of the property was overgrown and unkept, growing wild up to Mix-Up's waist. The only guideline through the messy field was the remnants of once beautiful stone pavers that marked a path up to the mansion's front door.

The mansion’s front doors creaked lowly as old hardwood groaned and rusty metal hinges harshly scratched against each other. The outside air rushed into the old mansion, unsettling the thin layer of white dust that powdered the marble floors of the foyer. Fading sunlight that filtered through the doors and a big hole in the roof illuminated an expansive space that was probably once a place that hosted parties and balls and would see hundreds of ponies dressed in beautiful garb dancing around its white stoned columns.

Those days of merriment, however, had long since passed. There was no joyous music and no vibrance to the place. The chandelier that likely brightened the whole place up with its double dozen extinguished magefire lights hung lifelessly in the center of the room, surrounded by a pair of old wooden staircases leading up to the second floor. In front of the stairs sat a crumbling fountain made of a pale blue stone, dried up and overgrown with vines. Paintings that hung on the wall were either hastily pulled off the walls by thieves or slashed by vandals. There was hardly anything left of that bygone era of history.

Mix-Up could only imagine how this place looked in its heyday. It was a shame to see such history fade away into neglect. For a fleeting moment he wished he could have attended one of the mansion’s parties, back when everything was fresh and new.

After taking in an eyeful of the dusty foyer, Mix-Up hung right and ventured into a nearby half opened door. Piles of dead leaves and rubble barred the ornately designed door open, freezing it in place and nearly fusing it into the stone tiled floor. He peeked in and found it to be an old parlor room. Empty raided bookshelves lined the walls as a dusty, water damaged area rug was sloppily rolled up and kicked to the side to expose the bluish white stone tile in the center of the room.

Judging by the discarded papers, broken glass bottles, and what appeared to be the remains of a small campfire, this was a room that many of the town’s teenagers hung out in for spooky ghost stories or tarot card reading. An open window that hugged the far left wall was wedged open by a piece of timber, allowing the elements of nature to filter into the room, bleaching old parchment with sunlight and curling old wood with rainwater.

Mix-Up examined the room with a frown. Ruined. Absolutely ruined. Any historical artifacts or memorabilia from a long past era were already taken away or destroyed by mischievous teens who didn’t know what they had. No, if he wanted to find something cool to bring back as a trophy, he’d have to venture deeper into the mansion where most ponies would fear to tread.

Leaving the vandalized room behind, Mix-Up reentered the central foyer and made his way to the pair of curved staircases that connected to the second floor. The stairs were in a dangerous state of disrepair. A number of the wooden paneled steps were either crumbling away or gone completely. The only real evidence of a consistent path to the second floor was the line of rotted red carpet that curved up the center of the steps.

With careful hoof placement, Mix-Up ventured up the steps. He occasionally used his blue feathered wings to leap across some of the larger gaps, but was able to find a decent path up to the next floor. The old, rotted wood groaned under his tentative steps.

The second floor was just as neglected as the ground floor. Large holes in the ceiling allowed rainwater to seep in as moss and plants had even started to grow into the carpet. The area was shamefully dusty and decrepit. Tattered paintings hung askew on ruined wallpaper walls. Family portraits laid on the floor, framed in shattered wooden frames. Doors of heavy hard wood ran along both walls leading all the way down the straight hallway. If there was something to find in this mansion, it'd be in one of these rooms, Mix-Up assumed.

The first room he wandered into was a large open room. The floors were weathered, but appeared to have a high polish to them back when the house was new. The far wall had tall windows covering most of it, opening the room up to the blue glow of the moon outside as it overlooked a decrepit and over run garden. All that, coupled with a broken ballet bar attached to the mirror wall must have meant that this room was some sort of dancing studio.

As interesting of a find such a place was, Mix-Up was disappointed to find nothing of value in the open room. Seeing all that he could see at the doorway, he returned to the hall and ventured further down the hall.

The next room he wandered into was a long dining hall. Big enough to comfortably fit twenty ponies at its long dining table, the room was in desperate need of repair. Broken chairs sat scattered around the mighty table as tarnished silverware and candelabras stood silently on the table. It was as if the whole place was set up for a banquet that never happened.

Strike three. Luck just didn't seem to be on Mix-Up's side today. He had half a mind to just give up and return to the ground floor and forget the whole treasure hunt all together. Spending the whole night wandering from room to room and finding nothing, the young stallion now sought out a comfortable place to take a quick nap.

As he journeyed farther down the second floor hallway, the sound of squeaking hinges drew his attention to an approaching door. The door creaked open as if beckoning the young stallion in. He followed the path into the open room with careful steps.

Faded, incredibly worn wallpaper clung to the walls. Indistinct shapes could be occasionally picked out along the barely blue color. The overall color palette, although mostly drained of its vibrance by time and the elements, appeared bright and cheerful. From what he could make out, Mix-Up assumed this was a room for children. A playroom or nursery perhaps. Although it was a little hard to determine that with the room being completely barren of any furniture.

“It’ll have to do,” Mix-Up said with a yawn. This was the only room he found so far that still had its ceiling intact. It was already getting pretty late. He could explore more after he got some rest.

He investigated the rest of the room, checking for any rotted floorboards or infestations of pests. Surprisingly enough, it seemed nature itself avoided this room. Here would do well enough. With another yawn, Mix-Up found a dry place on the floor and sat down for a short nap.

Author's Note

This story is a trade with Mix-Up who did the lovely cover art for my story "The Masks We Wear". You can find more of his artwork on his DeviantArt.