Flutterspook's Jumpscare Chateau
First Night, Part 1 - Welcome
The hour was late and there was blood splattered across the sign that you approached. Beside the dirt path, it stood against the shadowy treeline, like a monument to campy horror films. Its rotted planks were covered in splinters and termite holes. Just above an arrow that pointed up the path, words had been scrawled in a stylized, gory font by an expert hand.
FLUTTERSPOOK’S JUMPSCARE CHATEAU
Underneath the arrow, in looping script, was written:
Enter...if you dare and don’t mind.
In even smaller script beneath this, written by the same hand:
Thank you for coming.
On closer examination, the blood was clearly fake and possessed a sweet, chemical aroma inherent to such decorations. You turned to your three friends and grinned, “Yep, this is definitely Fluttershy’s style.”
“Well, so far, it seems she spent more on the advertising than the actual entertainment,” Sunny Flare deadpanned, brushing back a stray lock of her stylish, vibrant purple bob cut, “The guys handing out flyers were the creepiest thing I’ve seen all year.”
You think back on how you learned of this place, and the two men who had so boldly placed the flyers in your hand as you passed them on the street. They had both been incredibly tall, wearing freshly pressed lab coats over slightly stained, ill-fitting clothes and lumbering about the leaf-strewn sidewalk. Their skin was waxy and appeared to be moist with sweat, despite the chilly autumn air. What had disturbed you about them, was their vacant expressions and maddly swiveling eyes whose piercing gaze had landed on you for a single, intense moment. They were great actors. You had seen other pairs of them in town, but never crossed paths with any. By then, everyone knew they were advertising a new Nightmare Night attraction. How it had slipped mention that Fluttershy, of all people, was hosting the attraction was a complete mystery to you and everyone in the group.
“Well, really,” Royal Pin spoke up, “the advertising was probably the largest portion of her budget. She inherited the mansion from her great grandfather, you know. I’m willing to bet she simply strung up a bunch of childish, home-made decorations with her friends.” Everyone secretly rolled their eyes at this. Royal, good guy that he was, had an obnoxious habit of trying to belittle the wealth of everyone not related to him. He was in a constant, losing war of one-ups against Upper Crust, the other most wealthy member of Crystal Prep Academy. Apparently, a lot of that sort of thing happened at that school, so you silently thanked the gods that you attend Canterlot High, instead.
“That’s not what everyone else has been saying.” you said. “Like, a friend in my other group sent me an email last week about this place. Said it was the best haunted house they’ve ever been through, and their parents used to run a national award-winning haunted house themselves.”
“I got an email too,” Sunny said, “Indigo said it was pretty great and you know how she likes to put on the tough act twenty-four-seven.”
“Me too.” Royal and Micro Chips said at once. Everyone looked around with a chuckle, even Micro, who smiled for the first time during the entire trip. His eyes remained downcast through his bulky spectacles and he seemed to remain in deep thought. He had been acting strange ever since agreeing to come. Everyone thought it was just because he was nervous to meet his obvious, hopeless crush, Twilight Sparkle, but no amount of teasing had gotten him to comment on it. Still, he readily agreed to join the group and insisted on finding a way to sneak in a camera, despite the clear prohibition on videos or photography in the flyer subtext. Breaking rules was quite unlike him, but the rest of the group was always trying to get him to be more bold and this was a good sign, as far as the rest of you were concerned.
“Okay,” you said, shifting the backpack on your shoulders, “let’s go already!”
Your companions nodded, shifting their own packs, and followed as you hiked further up the mild incline. The trees to either side of the path loomed over your heads, their branches interwoven in crawling, web-like patterns just outside the luminescence of the lights placed along the trail to guide patrons to the mansion. You tried to appreciate the spooky ambience, but the bickering of Sunny and Royal made it difficult.
“How do you even know she inherited the mansion?”
“Because my great-grandfather tried to purchase the land from hers, early last century, of course.”
“What d’you mean ‘of course’? Like your whole bloodline has been land barons since the beginning of time?”
“Of course.” Royal said, the smirk evident in his voice.
“Ugh! Whatever. Why didn’t they sell? Offer not good enough?”
It was Royal’s turn to sound indignant, “Incredibly unlikely. I understand the offer was far more than generous. The man was a fool not to take it, but rumor had it that he was—what’s the word?—eccentric, to say the least. Turned out Baron Flitterby, that was his name, had secretly started on the early stages of the mansion’s construction.”
“Why’d your family offer so much for a stupid, empty hill, then?”
“It’s not just a stupid, empty hill. If you knew any history of the town you live in, you’d know this hill, and the surrounding woodland, sits above the largest, untapped source of natural gas in a two hundred-mile radius. It’s better than a gold mine.”
Well, damn, you didn’t know that, either.
“Which is dangerous.” Micro piped up. Everyone turned to him, still walking. He looked up as he sensed everyone’s gaze on him. “Sometimes, the pockets create cracks and leak gas, which can cause certain kinds of poisoning to anyone who might live in the area.”
“I’ve heard about that,” Sunny added, “If there’s other elements or chemicals mixed in, like mercury, it can get even worse. Even a small dose can get to you, over time, and cause hallucinations or diseases.”
“Well, the place hasn’t been condemned and there were obviously construction crews up here, if these tread marks are as recent as they look.” you said, pointing to the clear machine tracks pressed deep into the dirt. “If there was construction, there were probably health and safety inspectors that had to declare this place safe, which means it should be safe, right?” No one spoke up, merely offering uncertain expressions all around, except Micro, who continued to stare at the path directly ahead of his feet with a furrowed brow. “Uhh...right.”
After a moment’s silence, Sunny said, “Makes this all a little spookier, doesn’t it?”
Just as everyone was humming their agreement, Micro shouted, “Wait! Stop!” You halted in your tracks and spun to face him, following him with your gaze as he marched past you and adopted a more cautious pace. He stopped and looked to either side of the path before waving his arm through the air.
A voice roared from the bushes to your left, “RRRRRHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” You jumped and heard Sunny and Royal’s short cries of surprise, then the voice continued with a soft, girly giggle, “Gotcha!” It was Fluttershy’s voice, “You’re almost there, hikers. If you’re hearing this, the house is open and refreshments will be ready in the waiting room. Please make yourselves at home when you arrive.”
It was the most adorable jumpscare in history.
“How in the world did you see that?” Sunny demanded. Micro just shrugged, finally donning a full-faced grin. It was no secret that Micro Chips was incredibly perceptive, but he’d really outdone himself with that catch. “Give me those glasses! Are you a secret agent or something? Are these one of your gadgets?” Sunny turned the glasses over in her hands after Micro had handed them over, his dark eyes looking oddly small without them. She placed the glasses on her face, then offered them back, after donning a look of astonishment. “You’re blind as a bat!”
Micro missed the first attempt at taking them. He put his glasses back on with practiced efficiency and said, “The wonders of modern technology, Ms. Flare.”
The rest of the hike was short and sweet. Excited speculations over what the mansion held simmered between the four of you, reaching a boiling point as you crested the rise and got your first look at the place, in person.
It presided over the flattened landscape with an almost regal affect. Its spires and columns stabbed at the heavens, as if the very stars had offended the house, and the light cast from the windows seemed to speak of a baleful hunger that radiated from the inner walls.
It was good; they did a good job decorating.
You traveled along the path that cut a direct line through the enormous front lawn, everyone pointing out each new and disturbing decoration. Sunny spotted the angry, demonic face cut into the grass of the lawn and highlighted by moonlight. It was subtly and skillfully drawn, only visible from a certain angle by someone walking along the path, but it jumped out at the observer from the periphery once one was in position to see it. Royal was visibly impressed by the dark figures mounted to the edges of the rooftops. They appeared as crouching figures whose form could not be entirely discerned, leaving the observer’s imagination to fill in the gaps. The eyes glinted red in the sparse light along the path. You spotted the series of bloody hoofprints that crossed the path. They were spaced as if belonging to a bipedal creature and beside them, the grass and dirt was scuffed as if the walker had been dragging something heavy along beside it. It was Micro’s observation of the silhouette of a man hanging from a tree in the distance that impressed everyone the most. The dark shapes of birds could be seen fluttering about the branches, occasionally seeming to peck at the hanging body that swayed in the slight breeze. It was a subtle and perfectly framed touch that, once noticed, contributed to a truly sinister atmosphere. Besides all this, many of the typical Nightmare Night decorations made an appearance, though they were all of the highest quality. Rotted hands reached up from the ground, skeletons peeked over tombstones, cobwebs were stretched over broken statues, and real taxidermies of black cats posed along the path. That last decoration surprised everyone, as it was well-known that Fluttershy was a strong advocate of animal rights and strongly spoke out against animal cruelty.
“There’s nothing cruel about taxidermy if the animal’s already dead, I guess,” Sunny said, after everyone had voiced their confusion.
“Not everyone would agree, but I’d say the same,” replied Micro. You and Royal looked at each other and shrugged.
Finally, you reached the steps that lead up to the sheltered front door. Baroque columns held up the small roof over the entryway, dangling with more cobwebs and crawling with disturbing mockeries of insects and horror-trope animals. A spider with a human head hung over the doorbell, a small wooden sign clutched in its front legs.
You read it aloud to your companions, “Ring me. Don’t look behind you.”
A feminine scream rang out from behind and you snapped your head around to see Royal with a hand over his chest, breathing rapidly. Sunny was giving him an amused look, but followed his gaze and gasped as she saw what he had. Micro soon did the same. You glanced back and up, startled to find the truly disturbing figure of a small, demonic, humanoid doll, clinging to a triangular recess on the interior of the roof. It’s skin looked uncannily realistic and its yellow gaze stared down at you all. It was positioned as if ready to leap down on anyone standing by the door. The grin it wore spoke of an intimately woven blend of madness and malice.
Everyone laughed off the experience as you rang the doorbell, which sounded distinctly ordinary and, after everything you’d seen, a little out of place. Silence pervaded the landing for a moment before another scream shattered it. This time, it came from somewhere in the distance. It was a long, drawn-out shriek of pain or true terror. It was difficult to tell.
“Sounds like someone beat us here tonight,” Royal said with a grin, but the other two looked uneasy.
You rang the doorbell again and, this time, it swung open on mildly squeaky hinges. A man in shabby clothes and a lab coat stood to the side, holding it open. He said nothing, only gesturing for everyone to enter. At first glance, you didn’t notice anything other than the familiarity of his costume, but as you looked closer, you noticed that this was the very same man who had put the flyers in your hand. Everything was the same, down to the waxy, moist skin and wildly darting gaze. Behind him, the foyer opened into a spacious floor, decorated with a opulent area rugs, dark flowers in beautifully painted vases, and classical sculptures in mournful or ritualistic poses. A grand, central staircase lead up to a landing and split to either side, leading up to other parts of the house on the second floor.
After everyone had entered, the doorman spoke in a gravelly monotone, “The waiting room is to your right. Help yourself to the refreshments within. The Mistress Spook will attend to you when she has finished with our latest patrons.”
You all looked at each other with deeply amused faces. Sunny spoke first, “The Mistress Spook?” she said, incredulously, with a hint of a mocking tone. Everyone laughed as you made your ways to the next room.
A wooden plaque above the door read WAITING ROOM. Beyond the ornate doorway, a veritable feast was laid out on several white-clothed tables, consisting of all the most common party snacks and drinks, as well as a few more elaborate finger-foods. All of it was laid out and shaped in such ways as to suggest more grotesque and morbid types of food than the cheese-and-cracker-type snacks they really were. A catwalk, accessed from the previous room and leading to yet another, overlooked the entire floor. Besides the door you entered from, two more doors lead out from the ground floor. The one just across from you was a wooden double door fitted with a brass plaque that gleamed in the warm, yellow lighting. It read ‘Employees Only’. In the corner of the room, under the catwalk, a second door lay slightly ajar, revealing only a bar of darkness.
As you surveyed the room and your companions spread forth to inspect the food, the employee-only door burst open, the rattle of dishes and cutlery accompanying the large, masked woman that entered, pushing a trolley. No, she wasn’t masked, her head was entirely wrapped in bandages. You watched with fascination as she deftly replaced several plates of food with fresher-looking platters. Not once did she feel for the table of trays before going about her business, as if she could see through the clearly opaque strips of cloth. The headwear was layered so thick you could only make out the barest shape of her nose. Without a word, she finished her task and pushed the trolley through the doors just as violently as she entered.
“What...was...that?” Micro said.
“One very efficient servant.” Royal replied, sounding as stunned as everyone else looked, though you feel he was more preoccupied with the servants’s performance, than the fact that she shouldn’t have been able to see. Perhaps it really was a mask, but with cleverly disguised eyeholes.
But why, then, did the mask seem to move and distort, as if her jaw was working furiously beneath layers of real cloth?
The incident seemed to leave everyone’s mind as you each, eventually, found a plate containing a snack to suit your tastes, delighting in the high quality and grimly artistic presentation of the food. Everyone except Micro, anyway. As the rest of you chatted excitedly about your expectations, he sat in a corner, on a velvety chaise lounge, periodically adjusting his glasses. He had returned to looking as stone-faced as he had earlier that evening, when you arrived at his house to pick him up. You hoped he wouldn’t be like this all weekend, as you’d all be stuck in this house together until Sunday afternoon, almost two whole days. As you were about to approach him and ask what was wrong, Sunny’s voice rose to a sharp note.
“Oh! Gods, this sauce is amazing! You have to try it,” she said, taking your shoulder and turning you back to face her. She was holding a carrot sliver that had been dipped in something not-quite-pink, but that undefinable shade blood takes on, when smeared thin across a white surface. You take it and try, hesitantly. She was right. The flavor was explosively savory, with a mild, zesty tanginess, that faded into a heady umame that stuck to the back of your throat and left you craving more.
“It goes great with everything!” Royal said from behind Sunny, a bitten cracker in one hand and the tail of a shrimp in the other.
“Yes,” a new, gentle voice rang out, causing you all to jump, “our first guests this evening helped make a lovely stock.”
The three of you next to the tables threw your gazes to the catwalk, where stood a tall, pink-haired girl in an ornate dark green dress. The clothing paired well with her bright blue eyes and buttery yellow skin.
Next came the doorman’s voice, and you all jumped again, as he had entered the room from the foyer, without a sound, “Presenting The Mistress Spook, Countess Fluttershy of Batsele Hill.”
