Apparition Amphitheater Presents: Haunted Townby Nightmare_0megaChaptersEvil's Pouring DownOn This Haunted TownThere's No Way AroundEvil's Pouring DownThe wind howled on this ominous night. Trees swayed and creaked in the bleak and cold whilst leaves danced through the air before they rustled along the ground. Defiant ticks and crinkles could be heard as the leaves struck the amphitheaters outside walls, while the lucky, loose fragments of fall’s shedding made their way through broken glass, open gaps, or managed to vault over the wall and into the main audience space directly. Former fancy decorations that once awed guests now sit tarnished and soiled, with no visible onlookers to realize the state such a place was left in. Red carpets were faded with stains and debris, having been exposed to the elements for who knew how long. The paint slowly chipped and flaked whenever a particularly strong wind blew. Any working lights fixed to the walls that lit the room for atmosphere flickered from overuse and lack of maintenance. Of course, said lights hardly illuminated the grand amphitheater at night, allowing only the moonlight to provide any meaningful glow normally, so if they were to finally succumb, no one would know. However in the gloom of the night, the stage lights suddenly flashed on, and the worn, red curtain pulled back, revealing the master of this derelict hall. A six foot tall biped, clad in dark grey jeans and a light grey hoodie, sported wild, light brown hair, and casually wore barbed wire that wound around both of its forearms. The creature’s hands were sharp, with three cloven digits each, and a strange half skull mask was adorned with a rusty nail protruding through the center of the forehead. The being cleared its throat with a cough. Good evening, my friends. It is I, Wrath B. Forgivnez, returning once again on this haunted night to deliver another lovely tale of woe and terror. And, my, what a lovely night it is tonight: Crows caw in the distance. Spiders scurry about the shadows of the nooks all around. Leaves tumble in the wind, only to be crushed under phantom footsteps. It’s such a marvelous time. A time, in which, that is also host to the harvest season. Among the decay and gloom, the fruits of labor and toil bring forth a splendorous bounty. What noble creatures they are that work day in and out to provide to their friends, family, and neighbors through such rigorous grinds. Even the humble apple, one of nature’s many candies, is a welcome gift from these persistent workers. Through rain or shine, dusk or dawn... Living or dead, heh heh. How absurd that would be, for one to work through the latter. Perhaps, one of the most dependable, honest individuals out there can show us, in a story I’d like to call... Haunted Town -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- The average morning in Ponyville tends to consist of easy breakfasts, lazy bodies, tea and coffee, morning market set up, the odd filly and colt getting in some morning playtime before school, and the start of the working day. The average pony sees the sun well into the sky, but not high enough to recognize the lunch hour, feeling the warmth of the light in the air as they mosey about their day. Shadows are subdued and pressed against their origins, making way for the morning light to seep into every crevice of the sleepy streets; an average morning. But, for one family, on the outskirts of the town’s limits, this was not their morning. Their morning came before the crack of dawn. A chill hung in the air, lingering as a leftover of the night. Starlight began to fade out of eyesight while the sky began to slowly pull away from its blacks and blues. The sun was coming, but it still hid in wait, ready to finally vanquish the remaining shadows the night had allowed to let loose, leaving the hour to sit in this limbo for a few moments more. Birds were chirping, announcing to the world they are still there, giving rise to the rest of the early morning critters. Within this symphony of starts, before the rooster could even crow, a farmer stirred from her bed and hauled herself out of the comfort. Routines set in motion, she had a quick shower, brushed her teeth, tied her blonde hair, brushed her orange coat, made her bed, and cantered downstairs to the kitchen, beginning breakfast. It was a standard, simple affair for a very efficient pony. Opening the cupboards, she fished out a couple of pans, a spatula with a rubber handle, a set of plates, and a line of glasses. Taking a moment to butter the pans and turn on the stove top, she then swung open the icebox, fished out a pitcher of pancake mix that was prepared the night before, and poured a few nice, plump circles of batter into the screaming hot pans with a nice sizzle. As the cakes cooked, she fished out pre-prepared apple wedges to go with the breakfast, a bottle of fine maple syrup, fresh milk, and began to set the table. It didn’t take long for breakfast to cook well enough on one side, so after getting about halfway through her preparations, she raced back to the stove to flip over the cakes with a well flicked pan before returning to the table to finish the job. Upon completion, she went back to the stove top and stacked the completed flapjacks onto a serving dish before pouring new batches in. Taking the dish to the table with the spatula, she shoveled herself a few cakes, sat down, and began eating. As she finished, the new cakes were ready to flip. Upon flipping them over, she returned to her seat, ate the apple slices she had, polished off her pallet with a nice cold glass of milk, and took the dishes to the sink where she cleaned them quickly and easily. She then took the newly completed cakes off the pans, turned off the stove, and set them at the table, ready and waiting to be eaten. Gazing upon the spread before her, she smiled with a sense of accomplishment before looking up the empty stairs. She shook her head in mirth, before she called out to her still sleeping family, announcing “Soups on!” She then heard rustling and considered it mission accomplished as she faced away from the kitchen. With a yawn and a stretch, she cantered over to the front door, put on her stetson hat, grabbed a coil of rope, and stepped outside. Looking about while still at the porch, she noticed the morning paper. Hazarding a glance to check the weather schedule, she opened it up and turned it to the appropriate section. Today was going to be clear skies the whole day, with heavy cloud-cover during the evening, ending with a thunderstorm at night, which will generate fog next morning. Not exactly a desired set up, but she had no control over the weather, despite her odd written complaint. Otherwise satisfied, she closed the paper and rolled it up, before setting it off to the side. She knew either her little sister or older brother would likely be out soon to pick it up. It was time to start her day. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Applejack gasped, shooting awake. As the flash of lightning swiftly dissipated and the rumble of the thunder slowly thrummed into the drowning sound of the rain, she rubbed her eyes and pulled herself out of bed. Yawning from the interrupted sleep, she cantered over to her bedroom window. It was late at night, well beyond her hard day of farm work. The latest round of apples had been harvested and all but one of her chores were finished. Gazing out of the rain pattered window, she turned her attention out into the orchard. Her heart sank upon realizing the storm seemed to be enough of an issue that it was kicking off limbs, leaves, and the odd apple that was just weak enough to snap off from the wind and downpour. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, right before she yelped and jumped from another flash of lightning. Sighing at her own skittishness, she peered back outside to try to find the chore she left behind. Lo and behold, behind a few trees, almost out of view, lay the useless stump that she had tied the rope around. A couple days ago, there was an accident that resulted in the destruction of one of the trees. To be fair, the one in question was getting quite old anyway, and wasn’t producing as many apples as it once had, but it was still a shame to happen. She just wished it wasn’t such a sudden moment that brought about the poor tree’s end. While she was out working, she had intended on having it yanked out of the ground so a new tree could be planted, making it her final orchard job of the day. However, the apple harvest itself yielded enough of a load that it took up most of the morning, afternoon, and evening, right before the storm was being set up. There was only really enough room in her workday to do a few minor chores instead. She begrudgingly had to leave the stump removal chore behind, but not before she set it up to be dealt with easily next morning. At least, that was what she hoped, thinking the storm wouldn’t be so harsh. Ire raised within her as she realized that perfectly good rope is probably soaking wet with a hundred pounds of water now, and absolutely slick with mud and grime. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, so she relented. After all, it may dry up fast enough that it can be used by tomorrow evening. If not, she’d have to postpone it until the day after. “Dangit.” Another flash of lightning caused her to jump, this time coaxing out a little extra frustration out of her. She figured she’d have to send a complaint letter about the intensity of the storm. Grumbling in annoyance, she went to shut the curtains, but before she could, something in the distance caught her eye. There, far out in the thicker end of the trees, she could see strange shadowy figures, swaying in the wind. One would normally consider the thought that this was simply the trick of the mind, but there was something else. It was hard to tell, but she could see something akin to glowing yellow eyes upon each of the forms. Further, and while this could have been all in her head, brought on by the stress and exhaustion she had, she could still swear she heard faint, hollow moaning in the distance. The kind of sounds that could send shivers up the spine. Just when she was able to get a good look and try to get a proper listen to confirm her paranoid suspicions, yet another bolt of lightning flashed, which made her yelp in surprise and kicked her out of her brief moment of concentration. Lunging back to the window, she tried to gaze back out to where the strange figures stood. However, much to her apprehension, the shadowy shapes and glowing eyes had disappeared, as if they were never there to begin with. It suitably perturbed her, and ultimately pushed her to closing the curtains as she intended earlier. Sure, she would have anyway, but the strange sights and sudden flashes and sounds hastened her movements. Cantering back to her bed, she belly-flopped onto the surface and coiled the covers around her, rolling to her side enough to stare back at her now closed window. With another yawn, her eyes began to flutter gently, feeling heavier and heavier, until the comfort of the sheets and mattress finally carried her off to slumberland. It’s probably just mah imagination, she thought in the last vestiges of consciousness. Back outside the Apple Family abode, across the orchard and under the thickening trees, shadowy figures swayed to the wind. Eerie, foreboding moans traveled with the daunting wind and rain. Glowing eyes shone in the night and gloom of the storm, their light only swallowed momentarily from the sudden cracks of lightning, with thunder sounding off further and further away than it had previously. The storm was ever so slowly coming to an end, and within the hour, the following mists will take over. The unnatural, bizarre forms waited patiently while distant and hollow voices slowly gained strength as the storm waned. It was almost time for the harvest. On This Haunted Town“DANGNABBIT!” Applejack quickly shot out of bed, despite her dreadful grogginess. Without even realizing it, she had slept in a good 15 minutes past her wake-up time. For the average pony, this wasn’t so big of a deal, but Applejack had always prided herself on being reliable, and being reliable meant being as punctual as possible. To be fair, she’d be the first to admit to being late to the odd event every now and again, but rare were the days where she was late to rise. Never the less, she sped through her morning routine as quickly as she could, and upon realizing it was Big Mac’s turn make breakfast, she simply made herself some toast. Gobbling it quick, she put on her hat and stepped outside. A dense, misty day greeted her, with fog thick enough that she could barely see two paces in front of her. Still, chores had to be done. With a practiced gait, she cantered over to the stump of discontent, ready to finally be rid of its presence, only to find something strange. Or, rather, found the lack of something strange. The stump in question was missing, and the hole it would have made was already filled. The rope that was supposed to be there for it was missing as well. Her look was puzzled as she tried to rationalize the disappearance, even looking for hoofprints in the mud to see if there were some clue to the phantom assistant. When nothing came of it, she gave a small shrug and decided not to bother dwelling on the issue. Instead she headed back to the porch, realizing she forgot to check the paper. Luckily, it hadn’t been taken inside just yet, allowing her to get a good glance at the weather report. As it was scheduled in yesterday’s line-up, it was due to remain foggy all day long across the entire town until it cleared up for the night, leaving a sunny day tomorrow. In her gut, she figured that would be the case. Apple-bucking would have to wait a day, especially with such low visibility. Still, there were other things to do, such as tree checking, animal feeding, or any general cleanup that needs to be done. One thing that wasn’t overlooked was a strange name that caught her attention in the corner of her eyes as she flipped absentmindedly through the paper. Turning back to the page of interest, she realized her name did indeed pop up, but in the strangest of sections: the obituaries. Confused was a word that couldn’t even begin to describe the hearty and healthy feeling earth pony farmer that gawked at her own name. Something about it chilled her, however, as she swiftly closed the offending paper, refusing to indulge her curiosity in such a morbid section any further. With that said, she rolled up the paper and set it off to the side. The Element of Honesty honestly couldn’t believe somepony could make such a blunder about her, especially since she was just in town a few moons ago, haggling prices and selling off apples in the local marketplace. It had to be rectified, before anypony else could make a stink about it. So, with that said, she raced out of Sweet Apple Acres and headed into the fog shrouded town, hoping to get there before anyone else could wake up and pick up their own papers. Lucky for her, upon entering the town limits, she soon realized that it wouldn’t be a problem, as not a single soul was wandering the streets. To be fair, she expected as much, considering how early it was, but she couldn’t help feel that something was amiss. The whole town seemed quieter than normal. Almost to a creepy degree. It kinda felt like that one time they decided to prank Rainbow Dash in revenge for all of the tricks she pulled on everyone. The difference between that and now, she figured, was that this felt eerie and creepy as all get out. Regardless, she marched on and made her way to the newspaper stand, hoping to find somepony up and at-em, if only to get an explanation. Much to her chagrin, the stand was empty, save for the stack of papers, ready to be passed out to the masses. Hazarding a chance of curiosity, she snatched a paper from the top of the stack, and flipped over to the offending section, hoping that maybe her own paper back at the farm was a misprint or in her imagination. Lo and behold, she saw her name, exactly where she saw it last time. She closed it with a worried sigh, placing it back from whence it came, and looked around the stand, hoping to find someone, anyone, present and able to help her through this. With the absence of the news-stand pony, Applejack resigned to considering a plan “B”. She considered heading to the actual printing press facility, but she had no real idea where that might be in town, nor was she willing to waste time looking around for it. No, she figured it would probably be a better idea to head to the Town Hall. At least there, she could get someone to help her out. Having nothing else left to consider, she headed for Town Hall, seated in the center of Ponyville. It didn’t take her very long to find the large, three story building. She absolutely despised bureaucracy and how redundant and backwards it could be, but knew that she would most definitely find what she needs by asking the correct ponies. Besides, Mayor Mare owed her a favor. However, upon entering the large government building, she soon found out that it was just as empty and quiet as the town was. True, it was relatively early in the morning still, but a fair few politicians and civil servants tended to be around in the wee hours of the morning for one reason or another. The familiar hustle and bustle of frantic busy work and officials trying to keep things regulated was well beyond the realm of scarce, replaced with the daunting, cold silence the rest of town featured. Something was most definitely wrong. With that warning in her head, she tentatively wandered to the Mayor’s office, hoping to at least find her, as there was no way she’d be able to find anything else in this, albeit currently very still, madhouse. Reaching the door, she gave it a hesitant knock. “Uh, Mayor Mare, are you in there?” Applejack asked, before the door creaked open from her knocking. Applejack took a step back, only for a moment, before she pushed the door all the way open herself. Inside was the rather lived-in office; comfy, yet scattered with various papers and files on the front desk. The chair, though, was empty. Applejack took a step back and closed the office door, giving a disappointed sigh before she made the choice to at least attempt to look for it herself, within reason. Before she could, a soft, low, pained moan could be heard down the hall. Drawn to the only sound she had ever encountered, she moved down the hall and noticed a pony just standing and facing away from her. The coat and mane color seemed somewhat unfamiliar to her, and she couldn’t quite make out the cutie-mark, but Applejack figured the mystery pony might be a new resident or something. “Hello?” the farm-pony asked. No response came from the pony, but the Element of Honesty decided to push forward the conversation. “Mah name’s Applejack. Didja need any assistance... or, erm, maybe you could help me out?” Silence was the only response she got, until the mystery pony began to turn around. It was then Applejack wished that never would have happened. Gazing back at Applejack were a pair of glowing, yellow, dead eyes. The owner of said eyes opened its mouth, which was dripping with thick black ichor, and let out a long, low moan of anguish as it slowly stumbled towards Applejack. Applejack, in turn, began taking frightened steps back from the strange pony that would give the bogeymare ideas in scares. It started moving faster towards her, causing Applejack to full-on turn tail and flee the strange encounter, heading right through the doors. Back outside of the Town Hall, she began to hear distant and low wails that sounded eerily like the one from the strange pony she just fled from. Swiveling her ears, she could guess that the owners of such sounds were peppered all about the town, and some of them were getting ready to surround the Hall itself. Not wishing to get caught by whatever those things were, she high tailed it out of there, deciding it would be prudent to try and get Twilight’s help in the matter. She raced from the Hall towards Twilight’s Castle of Friendship, hoping to find someone there to help her. Despite her speed on hoof, and her evasive skills in dodging the random zombie-like beings that tried to make a grab for her, she made it to the castle only to find the front door wasn’t budging. It made sense, since Twilight was a relatively light sleeper and she probably didn’t want just anypony barging in, but this was an emergency and this locked door was being FAR more than inconvenient right now. She pounded on the surface, hoping to make as much noise as possible, hoping to wake Twilight up. Or Starlight. Or Spike. Or anyone, really. “Twahlight! Spike! Is anypony in there?!” she shouted, still banging on the door, as the sounds of moans and growls could be heard getting closer and closer to her current location. “Please, open the door!” As the strange, ominous noises got louder as the strange pony bodies shuffled closer, Applejack soon abandoned the Castle and decided to head for the only other place of importance. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Having returned to Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack raced up the roadway to the front of her home, barged inside as swiftly as possible, closed the door, and gazed about to look for anything she could use to barricade the front door. It didn’t take her long to figure out what she needed to use, and soon ended up pushing the heaviest bookshelf she could find in front of it, before pushing the fine dishware cabinet in front of that. She then did the same with the back door, pushing the ice box in front of that entrance, hoping to later use it as an escape route if need be. She then closed all the curtains she could find on the ground floor, just before she realized that she didn’t see a single soul anywhere around the house. Further more, it seemed like the kitchen was left exactly how she left it this morning: empty, without a hint of any cooking having been done. Heart racing and pounding against her chest, she began to worry about her family, and soon raced up stairs to see if they were still there, hoping against all hopes that they were and they all just slept in. First was Big Mac’s room, which was empty. Entirely. No yoke, no bed, no dresser, nothing. A completely bare room. She then moved to Apple Bloom’s room, and the same thing met her gaze, making her feel nauseous and scared. Hazarding the glance, wishing to be proven wrong, she looked to Granny Smith’s room. “Where... where is everypony?!” she muttered, now terrified. What in all of Equestria was going on? Why did it seem as if the home was completely abandoned? “Granny... Apple Bloom... Macintosh... where are ya?” she said with a sob. She then heard a heavy thump against the front door, causing her to jump slightly. Listening closely, she could hear the moans and growls of those... things outside, smacking against the door, trying to force it open. Nothing was making any sense to her, and she couldn’t even rationalize it with a prank or a villain she faced. Something was decidedly wrong, and it scared her beyond all reason. She ran to her own bedroom, finding it was exactly as she left it: still furnished, still lived in, still hers. She gave a hollow sigh, wishing she could be relieved at the sight, but the emptiness of the house, combined with the banging on the front door, made it next to impossible. What made it worse was when she heard the sound of wood cracking and glass shattering, as the unearthly moaning sounds got much louder. There were then several loud thumps following suit, putting Applejack in a panic. She gazed about her room, trying to figure out what to do. She turns to the closet, and realized what a bad idea that would be. She glanced over to her bed, and figured that wouldn’t be much good either. Then her eyes fixated at the window. With a bit of strength and nimble movement, it might prove to be the best option she had. With that in mind, she approached her window, opened it as wide as she could, and slowly began to climb out, reaching up to try to grab the edge of the roof. The sound of heavy, clumsy hooffalls were heard spreading through the house, before the creaking stairs announced their presence moving to the second floor. Applejack cussed under her breath as she struggled getting out and climbing up to the roof. Her heart quickened as she heard those things reach her room and howl before making a bee-line for her. With one final pull, she managed to climb to the roof, and just barely catch glimpse of one of those things shoot out of her window and fall to its doom below, hitting the ground head first with a sickening crunch. She scrambled up to the very top of her home, and realized that her house was entirely surrounded by their bodies and the fog itself. She had no where else to go, and from as far as she could see, no one was coming to rescue her. She gazed up at the sky, hoping that somepony happened to be flying by. But the clouds were as thick as the fog below, perhaps thicker. She stifled a sob, wishing this was just a bad dream, and that she could just wake up, forget it all happened, and go back to work in the orchards. Just to go back and have her life back, instead of being the star of this horrible horror show. Her hoof then suddenly slipped out from under Applejack, causing her to trip and slide off the roof, falling and screaming towards the open, black ichor-oozing maws below. There's No Way AroundApplejack woke up with a start, practically leaping out of her bed and landing on the floor with a soft thud. Groaning in discomfort, she rubbed her head and messy mane, with her gaze turning towards her window. It was early morning, still rather dark out, and foggy on top of it all. She yawned long and hard, feeling rather groggy and bleary on the whole. The farmpony pushed herself slowly off of the floor and stood up straight, shaking her head to disperse some of the haziness. Once she felt she had a good grip on the waking world, she tried to recall what just happened. Something seemed amiss currently as she could remember waking up early in the morning on a foggy day already. To be fair, she was later than her normal schedule would dictate, but that was just splitting hairs. Was that just a dream, and this odd sense of deja-vu just a result of that, or was she missing something? A sudden vision of glowing eyes flashed for a moment before she rubbed her face in anxiety and confusion. “Aw, horseapples,” she cussed, “must’a been just some weird dream. Did ah eat anything weird last night?” She sat there for a moment, thinking about her day before she was startled awake by the ensuing thunderstorm. However, she kept drawing a blank, unable to really recall anything besides her rude awakening by the storm. She made a mental note to be sure to write a formal complaint to the weather department about it later. requesting less intense storm clouds at the very least. She shook her head again and looked outside her door, leading into the second floor’s hallway. She cantered out of her room, peering out towards the bedrooms of her other family members. Creeping out of her own room, she first approached Big Mac’s, and found it was intact, with a sleeping form fully under the covers. She repeated the process with Apple Bloom’s and Granny Smith’s own rooms, finding they’re still inhabited. She gave a short sigh, before she smiled at the apparent normal, and proceeded to wander back into her room to start her morning routine. Feeling much better about her day, and slowly forgetting the bizarre and frightening dream she had last night, she quickly tried to finish washing and grooming herself. Once she was done, she proceeded down into the kitchen. Ready to start the day, she decided to surprise everyone and cook breakfast for the family a second time in a row. Furthermore, she felt extra creative and peppy, so she decided to bring out the waffle iron. She swiftly cooked breakfast for four, comprising of waffles, a side of applesauce, and chilled whipped cream topping. She was hoping to save it for a more special occasion. but couldn’t help but let her good feeling run free and wild. Once breakfast was all set up, she called out to her family, shouting “SOUP’S ON!”, just as she had yesterday, and sat at her seat, ready to eat. Only, something felt very off once her mind was free from working kitchen chores. The first thing was that she didn’t feel hungry. Not in the slightest. If she could describe the sensation, it was as if she ran on an empty stomach, but it didn’t bother her, nor did she desire to fill it. It was peculiar to say the least. The second issue she had was, now that Applejack had waited a good ten minutes at this point, she noticed no one was on their way downstairs. No commotion or morning routines being done. To be fair, it WAS quite early in the morning, but she’d at least hear protesting replies if they had been woken up early enough. She looked back at the beautiful spread that laid before her, giving it a slightly sheepish and quizzical look, before she rose from her seat. It should have been the most enticing thing in the world to her right now, especially considering her rough night, but she couldn’t help but have this apathy towards her wonderful creation. She gazed back up the stairs, wondering for a moment when they’d come down. She gave a slight smirk. “I suppose,” she remarked, “They’ll be down when they’ll be down.” She turned herself towards the front door, put on her stetson hat, and wandered outside. The sun, she assumed, was just now peeking over the horizon, but she couldn’t quite tell how much due to the intense fog. She grumbled a bit, before noticing the paper. Picking it up, she turned to the weather, which described the schedule of the day being foggy up until the night. She rolled her eyes and sighed, inwardly thankful that the next time could continue as normal, before she contemplated what chores she should start with first. She then remembered the stump out in the orchard that needed removing. She had set it up the night prior, and had her rope all tied and ready for a good pull. She smiled a little, and made her way to the offending piece. However when she got there, just like the dream, the stump was missing, and there was no evidence remaining that someone even pulled it from the ground. Her heart began to race, visions of her nightmare coming back to her, as if it were some sort of warning. She spun around, eyes darting in every direction, trying to find some evidence of odd shadows or glowing eyes. Her ears swiveled, paying attention to the air around her, seeking any hint of an unnatural noise. When nothing came of it, she gave a deep sigh of relief. “Applejack?” called out an old, welcome, and familiar voice. From the fog came the light green coated and white maned Granny Smith Apple; an absolute sight for sore eyes. “Granny? Oh, Ah’m so glad to see you. Ah thought you were sleepin’ still,” Applejack remarked with a smile. “What’er ya doin’ out here? The fog can’t be good fer yer ahsight.” “Land sakes, child! Ah’ve been lookin’ EVERYWHERE fer you,” she barked with a mix of annoyance and concern. “What’er you talkin’ about?” Applejack asked, confused. “Listen, Applejack, we don’t have very much time. We gotta get you out!” “Out? What’s going on!?” “NO TIME!” she shouted, as she she turned tail. “Ya’ll better keep up with me, missy!” And with that, she took off with a surprising amount of speed. Something was definitely wrong, but that was most definitely Granny Smith. Wanting answers, she high-tailed it behind her grandmother and kept up the pace. As they ran, Applejack could swear she could hear that haunting moaning in the distance once again. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- It took some time, but Granny Smith lead her dear granddaughter to their destination, which rather surprised Applejack. “Ponyville General? Why here?” Granny Smith turned around, and gave her a rather sorrowful expression, before she managed to explain. “Well... a few days ago, you went out to take care of that stubborn stump. And, ya’ll’d be the right mare fer the job normally, but.. You slipped on something, and bumped yer head something mighty fierce.” “Bumped mah head? What do you mean? Ah don’t understand.” “Yeah, Discord said you might not remember.” “Discord?! What’s that varmint got to do with this?” “Helpin’ Princess Luna an’ me get you out.” “Wait, Princess Luna too?” “Sugarcube, are ye’ gonna keep askin’ questions, or are ya gonna let me speak?” she barked, annoyed. “Sorry, Granny...” “Anyway, ya hit yer head awfully hard. Worse still, ya were out there fer a little while before Macintosh found ya. It’s a good thing he did, though. Doctor said if we were a few minutes later, you’d be completely gone.” Applejack took a step back, eyes widening in horror. “You mean, Ah’m...?” “Not quite. Yer kinda... stuck, if’n that’s the right word for it. They were able to fix ya, and get ya breathin’ but you wouldn’t wake up. And this ain’t no comatose thing, neither.” “So, where are we? Why are you here?” “Discord and Luna helped me jump in and git you. They needed someone that knows you better to git you out, and no one knows mah gran’babies better than me!” Applejack chuckled a little at the tenacity of her stubborn old grandmother. She knew, come Tartarus or high water, she’d do anything and everything it took to take care of her family. “As for where, well... like ah said. Yer stuck. Not quite alive, not quite dead. This is like some sort of... in-between. An’ we need to get you out as soon as possible.” “Does it have ta do with those... things?” Applejack asked. “It’s what happens to a pony when they get stuck for too long. That’s what Discord said, at least.” “Ah didn’t know he was an expert.” “A strange feller will always know strange things, child.” “Ah suppose.” “Anyway, no more chit-chat. We’ve got to get you out. Come on, before they get to us, and this starts all over again.” Applejack gulped, as she could hear the tell-tale sound of wails from those horrible things that haunted this place. Granny opened the door and made a swift entrance into the hospital, followed by Applejack not too far behind. They wandered the halls, staying quiet, and trying hard to avoid any of the odd “stuck” pony that haunted the corridors. Eventually, though, Granny Smith lead her to a room that was fitted with a couple of beds, and a large arrangement of flowers. Granny made sure to lock the door behind them, just in case. “Is this...?” “Everyone was mighty worried about you, sugarcube. Still are, I suppose, but that’s all about to end.” “Granny Smith,” called out a familiar, chaotic voice, “Come in, Granny Smith! Can you hear me, you old crone?” “Yeah, yeah, I can hear ya. And watch yer sass, Discord!” “Oh, thank the heavens!” another familiar voice ran out, this time with a regal, female flare. “We don’t have much time, and have very little breathing room. We’re going to open a portal, and the two of you are going to jump through.” There was a crash at the door, as the sound of moans of despair could be heard on the other side. “Couldja hurry it up? The stuck are poundin’ at the door!” “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t call them that,” Discord harrumphed, “I knew it was a bad idea to explain it that simply.” “Whatever they are,” Applejack interjected, “They’re at our flanks, and I don’t think that door’ll hold ‘em off.” “Oh, why yes!” Luna responded. “You two only have a few seconds to cross over, as this takes up A LOT of magical energy to do successfully. On the count of three, I want you two to jump through the light. Ready?” The two Apples nodded at each other, as Applejack answered with “We’re ready.” “One... two...” CRASH “THREE!” -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Applejack’s eyes slowly creaked open to a plain, sterile looking room, with light shining into the window, surrounded by dozens of flowers and get well cards. Further still, she was surrounded by all of her friends, and Discord, whom all had nothing but heartwarming “welcome back”s to give. She smiled at the level of love shown, and how dedicated and steadfast the ponies she cared about were. And there, just off to the side, was Granny Smith Apple, whom just woke up as well, staring at her with a grand, relieved smile. It was truly a heartwarming experience. However, there, standing in the shadowed corner, out of everyone’s sight, was one of the “stuck”, as Granny Smith referred to them. Eyes glowing yellow and a mouth dripping with black ichor, it simply stood and stared at her, unnerving Applejack with its ominous presence. Its existence didn’t keep her from enjoying the company, however, as she visited with her friends and family for hours, until the hours allotted were coming to a close. Everyone but Discord filed out, having announced he wished to speak to her about some pressing matter. Once everyone was finally gone, and Granny had long since fell asleep, Discord turned to the injured pony. “I suppose you can still see it, can’t you?” Her eyes instinctively glanced to the phantasm that still stared at her from the corner. “You’ve been almost gone for quite a while. It’s rare when a pony struggles through such an ordeal and lives to tell about it.” “What’s gonna happen? Will ah see them stuck everywhere now?” Discord pinched the bridge of his snout with his claw in irritation over the term, but cleared his throat for a moment and decided it’d be best to just answer. “For a time, you’ll still see the lost, but that’ll stop in due time. It’s just a side effect from being in that... spot for so long, surrounded by them.” “But... it’s only been a few days.” “My dear, most don’t last a few hours. Not without protection, or even an extremely strong mental and spiritual will.” Applejack turned her gaze back to the apparition with a solemn expression. “Don’t weep for them. They’ve long forgotten what made them what they were.” Discord wandered to the door. “I suggest you get some rest. I’m sure this experience will give you a new perspective on life, but please remember. It’s as precious as it is delicate. You’re a strong one, but you aren’t invincible. Too-daloo.” With that, he snapped his fingers, summoned a zipper, unzipped it down to the floor, and passed through to what seemed to be outside the hospital, before zipping it back up. Alone now, Applejack laid herself back against the pillow, intent on taking Discord’s suggestion to heart. It had been a long few days, and if she wanted to get back to work as soon as possible, she needed all the rest she can get. Life would carry on. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- So, it would seem that tenacity won the day in the end, and proved that even a crisis can be overcome by the strong willed. Granted, she had help from forces powerful enough to pull her from the brink, but her fortitude would have likely kept her going without help, even in the most dire of circumstances. Even if, in a hypothetical alternate take, the end would have turned out sour, the family would continue to persevere in spite of the tragedy, and likely continue their efforts in honor of the dearly departed. Death can change an individual, but how much it changes is up to the individual itself. Just remember, my fellow audience. Work hard, and don’t fear the reaper. After all, the dead certainly don’t fear the living. With a bow, the master of the amphitheater allowed the curtains to fall, shrouding him behind their thick gait, signalling the end of yet another night of haunts and stories. Wolves howled a sorrowful, beauteous cry to the night sky, as the lights fizzled and flickered out, making the structure derelict and abandoned once again. Leaves tumbled in the wind with whispers of secrets from spirits being carried into the darkness around, never to be heard, until the very end.
Evil's Pouring DownThe wind howled on this ominous night. Trees swayed and creaked in the bleak and cold whilst leaves danced through the air before they rustled along the ground. Defiant ticks and crinkles could be heard as the leaves struck the amphitheaters outside walls, while the lucky, loose fragments of fall’s shedding made their way through broken glass, open gaps, or managed to vault over the wall and into the main audience space directly. Former fancy decorations that once awed guests now sit tarnished and soiled, with no visible onlookers to realize the state such a place was left in. Red carpets were faded with stains and debris, having been exposed to the elements for who knew how long. The paint slowly chipped and flaked whenever a particularly strong wind blew. Any working lights fixed to the walls that lit the room for atmosphere flickered from overuse and lack of maintenance. Of course, said lights hardly illuminated the grand amphitheater at night, allowing only the moonlight to provide any meaningful glow normally, so if they were to finally succumb, no one would know. However in the gloom of the night, the stage lights suddenly flashed on, and the worn, red curtain pulled back, revealing the master of this derelict hall. A six foot tall biped, clad in dark grey jeans and a light grey hoodie, sported wild, light brown hair, and casually wore barbed wire that wound around both of its forearms. The creature’s hands were sharp, with three cloven digits each, and a strange half skull mask was adorned with a rusty nail protruding through the center of the forehead. The being cleared its throat with a cough. Good evening, my friends. It is I, Wrath B. Forgivnez, returning once again on this haunted night to deliver another lovely tale of woe and terror. And, my, what a lovely night it is tonight: Crows caw in the distance. Spiders scurry about the shadows of the nooks all around. Leaves tumble in the wind, only to be crushed under phantom footsteps. It’s such a marvelous time. A time, in which, that is also host to the harvest season. Among the decay and gloom, the fruits of labor and toil bring forth a splendorous bounty. What noble creatures they are that work day in and out to provide to their friends, family, and neighbors through such rigorous grinds. Even the humble apple, one of nature’s many candies, is a welcome gift from these persistent workers. Through rain or shine, dusk or dawn... Living or dead, heh heh. How absurd that would be, for one to work through the latter. Perhaps, one of the most dependable, honest individuals out there can show us, in a story I’d like to call... Haunted Town -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- The average morning in Ponyville tends to consist of easy breakfasts, lazy bodies, tea and coffee, morning market set up, the odd filly and colt getting in some morning playtime before school, and the start of the working day. The average pony sees the sun well into the sky, but not high enough to recognize the lunch hour, feeling the warmth of the light in the air as they mosey about their day. Shadows are subdued and pressed against their origins, making way for the morning light to seep into every crevice of the sleepy streets; an average morning. But, for one family, on the outskirts of the town’s limits, this was not their morning. Their morning came before the crack of dawn. A chill hung in the air, lingering as a leftover of the night. Starlight began to fade out of eyesight while the sky began to slowly pull away from its blacks and blues. The sun was coming, but it still hid in wait, ready to finally vanquish the remaining shadows the night had allowed to let loose, leaving the hour to sit in this limbo for a few moments more. Birds were chirping, announcing to the world they are still there, giving rise to the rest of the early morning critters. Within this symphony of starts, before the rooster could even crow, a farmer stirred from her bed and hauled herself out of the comfort. Routines set in motion, she had a quick shower, brushed her teeth, tied her blonde hair, brushed her orange coat, made her bed, and cantered downstairs to the kitchen, beginning breakfast. It was a standard, simple affair for a very efficient pony. Opening the cupboards, she fished out a couple of pans, a spatula with a rubber handle, a set of plates, and a line of glasses. Taking a moment to butter the pans and turn on the stove top, she then swung open the icebox, fished out a pitcher of pancake mix that was prepared the night before, and poured a few nice, plump circles of batter into the screaming hot pans with a nice sizzle. As the cakes cooked, she fished out pre-prepared apple wedges to go with the breakfast, a bottle of fine maple syrup, fresh milk, and began to set the table. It didn’t take long for breakfast to cook well enough on one side, so after getting about halfway through her preparations, she raced back to the stove to flip over the cakes with a well flicked pan before returning to the table to finish the job. Upon completion, she went back to the stove top and stacked the completed flapjacks onto a serving dish before pouring new batches in. Taking the dish to the table with the spatula, she shoveled herself a few cakes, sat down, and began eating. As she finished, the new cakes were ready to flip. Upon flipping them over, she returned to her seat, ate the apple slices she had, polished off her pallet with a nice cold glass of milk, and took the dishes to the sink where she cleaned them quickly and easily. She then took the newly completed cakes off the pans, turned off the stove, and set them at the table, ready and waiting to be eaten. Gazing upon the spread before her, she smiled with a sense of accomplishment before looking up the empty stairs. She shook her head in mirth, before she called out to her still sleeping family, announcing “Soups on!” She then heard rustling and considered it mission accomplished as she faced away from the kitchen. With a yawn and a stretch, she cantered over to the front door, put on her stetson hat, grabbed a coil of rope, and stepped outside. Looking about while still at the porch, she noticed the morning paper. Hazarding a glance to check the weather schedule, she opened it up and turned it to the appropriate section. Today was going to be clear skies the whole day, with heavy cloud-cover during the evening, ending with a thunderstorm at night, which will generate fog next morning. Not exactly a desired set up, but she had no control over the weather, despite her odd written complaint. Otherwise satisfied, she closed the paper and rolled it up, before setting it off to the side. She knew either her little sister or older brother would likely be out soon to pick it up. It was time to start her day. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Applejack gasped, shooting awake. As the flash of lightning swiftly dissipated and the rumble of the thunder slowly thrummed into the drowning sound of the rain, she rubbed her eyes and pulled herself out of bed. Yawning from the interrupted sleep, she cantered over to her bedroom window. It was late at night, well beyond her hard day of farm work. The latest round of apples had been harvested and all but one of her chores were finished. Gazing out of the rain pattered window, she turned her attention out into the orchard. Her heart sank upon realizing the storm seemed to be enough of an issue that it was kicking off limbs, leaves, and the odd apple that was just weak enough to snap off from the wind and downpour. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, right before she yelped and jumped from another flash of lightning. Sighing at her own skittishness, she peered back outside to try to find the chore she left behind. Lo and behold, behind a few trees, almost out of view, lay the useless stump that she had tied the rope around. A couple days ago, there was an accident that resulted in the destruction of one of the trees. To be fair, the one in question was getting quite old anyway, and wasn’t producing as many apples as it once had, but it was still a shame to happen. She just wished it wasn’t such a sudden moment that brought about the poor tree’s end. While she was out working, she had intended on having it yanked out of the ground so a new tree could be planted, making it her final orchard job of the day. However, the apple harvest itself yielded enough of a load that it took up most of the morning, afternoon, and evening, right before the storm was being set up. There was only really enough room in her workday to do a few minor chores instead. She begrudgingly had to leave the stump removal chore behind, but not before she set it up to be dealt with easily next morning. At least, that was what she hoped, thinking the storm wouldn’t be so harsh. Ire raised within her as she realized that perfectly good rope is probably soaking wet with a hundred pounds of water now, and absolutely slick with mud and grime. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, so she relented. After all, it may dry up fast enough that it can be used by tomorrow evening. If not, she’d have to postpone it until the day after. “Dangit.” Another flash of lightning caused her to jump, this time coaxing out a little extra frustration out of her. She figured she’d have to send a complaint letter about the intensity of the storm. Grumbling in annoyance, she went to shut the curtains, but before she could, something in the distance caught her eye. There, far out in the thicker end of the trees, she could see strange shadowy figures, swaying in the wind. One would normally consider the thought that this was simply the trick of the mind, but there was something else. It was hard to tell, but she could see something akin to glowing yellow eyes upon each of the forms. Further, and while this could have been all in her head, brought on by the stress and exhaustion she had, she could still swear she heard faint, hollow moaning in the distance. The kind of sounds that could send shivers up the spine. Just when she was able to get a good look and try to get a proper listen to confirm her paranoid suspicions, yet another bolt of lightning flashed, which made her yelp in surprise and kicked her out of her brief moment of concentration. Lunging back to the window, she tried to gaze back out to where the strange figures stood. However, much to her apprehension, the shadowy shapes and glowing eyes had disappeared, as if they were never there to begin with. It suitably perturbed her, and ultimately pushed her to closing the curtains as she intended earlier. Sure, she would have anyway, but the strange sights and sudden flashes and sounds hastened her movements. Cantering back to her bed, she belly-flopped onto the surface and coiled the covers around her, rolling to her side enough to stare back at her now closed window. With another yawn, her eyes began to flutter gently, feeling heavier and heavier, until the comfort of the sheets and mattress finally carried her off to slumberland. It’s probably just mah imagination, she thought in the last vestiges of consciousness. Back outside the Apple Family abode, across the orchard and under the thickening trees, shadowy figures swayed to the wind. Eerie, foreboding moans traveled with the daunting wind and rain. Glowing eyes shone in the night and gloom of the storm, their light only swallowed momentarily from the sudden cracks of lightning, with thunder sounding off further and further away than it had previously. The storm was ever so slowly coming to an end, and within the hour, the following mists will take over. The unnatural, bizarre forms waited patiently while distant and hollow voices slowly gained strength as the storm waned. It was almost time for the harvest.
On This Haunted Town“DANGNABBIT!” Applejack quickly shot out of bed, despite her dreadful grogginess. Without even realizing it, she had slept in a good 15 minutes past her wake-up time. For the average pony, this wasn’t so big of a deal, but Applejack had always prided herself on being reliable, and being reliable meant being as punctual as possible. To be fair, she’d be the first to admit to being late to the odd event every now and again, but rare were the days where she was late to rise. Never the less, she sped through her morning routine as quickly as she could, and upon realizing it was Big Mac’s turn make breakfast, she simply made herself some toast. Gobbling it quick, she put on her hat and stepped outside. A dense, misty day greeted her, with fog thick enough that she could barely see two paces in front of her. Still, chores had to be done. With a practiced gait, she cantered over to the stump of discontent, ready to finally be rid of its presence, only to find something strange. Or, rather, found the lack of something strange. The stump in question was missing, and the hole it would have made was already filled. The rope that was supposed to be there for it was missing as well. Her look was puzzled as she tried to rationalize the disappearance, even looking for hoofprints in the mud to see if there were some clue to the phantom assistant. When nothing came of it, she gave a small shrug and decided not to bother dwelling on the issue. Instead she headed back to the porch, realizing she forgot to check the paper. Luckily, it hadn’t been taken inside just yet, allowing her to get a good glance at the weather report. As it was scheduled in yesterday’s line-up, it was due to remain foggy all day long across the entire town until it cleared up for the night, leaving a sunny day tomorrow. In her gut, she figured that would be the case. Apple-bucking would have to wait a day, especially with such low visibility. Still, there were other things to do, such as tree checking, animal feeding, or any general cleanup that needs to be done. One thing that wasn’t overlooked was a strange name that caught her attention in the corner of her eyes as she flipped absentmindedly through the paper. Turning back to the page of interest, she realized her name did indeed pop up, but in the strangest of sections: the obituaries. Confused was a word that couldn’t even begin to describe the hearty and healthy feeling earth pony farmer that gawked at her own name. Something about it chilled her, however, as she swiftly closed the offending paper, refusing to indulge her curiosity in such a morbid section any further. With that said, she rolled up the paper and set it off to the side. The Element of Honesty honestly couldn’t believe somepony could make such a blunder about her, especially since she was just in town a few moons ago, haggling prices and selling off apples in the local marketplace. It had to be rectified, before anypony else could make a stink about it. So, with that said, she raced out of Sweet Apple Acres and headed into the fog shrouded town, hoping to get there before anyone else could wake up and pick up their own papers. Lucky for her, upon entering the town limits, she soon realized that it wouldn’t be a problem, as not a single soul was wandering the streets. To be fair, she expected as much, considering how early it was, but she couldn’t help feel that something was amiss. The whole town seemed quieter than normal. Almost to a creepy degree. It kinda felt like that one time they decided to prank Rainbow Dash in revenge for all of the tricks she pulled on everyone. The difference between that and now, she figured, was that this felt eerie and creepy as all get out. Regardless, she marched on and made her way to the newspaper stand, hoping to find somepony up and at-em, if only to get an explanation. Much to her chagrin, the stand was empty, save for the stack of papers, ready to be passed out to the masses. Hazarding a chance of curiosity, she snatched a paper from the top of the stack, and flipped over to the offending section, hoping that maybe her own paper back at the farm was a misprint or in her imagination. Lo and behold, she saw her name, exactly where she saw it last time. She closed it with a worried sigh, placing it back from whence it came, and looked around the stand, hoping to find someone, anyone, present and able to help her through this. With the absence of the news-stand pony, Applejack resigned to considering a plan “B”. She considered heading to the actual printing press facility, but she had no real idea where that might be in town, nor was she willing to waste time looking around for it. No, she figured it would probably be a better idea to head to the Town Hall. At least there, she could get someone to help her out. Having nothing else left to consider, she headed for Town Hall, seated in the center of Ponyville. It didn’t take her very long to find the large, three story building. She absolutely despised bureaucracy and how redundant and backwards it could be, but knew that she would most definitely find what she needs by asking the correct ponies. Besides, Mayor Mare owed her a favor. However, upon entering the large government building, she soon found out that it was just as empty and quiet as the town was. True, it was relatively early in the morning still, but a fair few politicians and civil servants tended to be around in the wee hours of the morning for one reason or another. The familiar hustle and bustle of frantic busy work and officials trying to keep things regulated was well beyond the realm of scarce, replaced with the daunting, cold silence the rest of town featured. Something was most definitely wrong. With that warning in her head, she tentatively wandered to the Mayor’s office, hoping to at least find her, as there was no way she’d be able to find anything else in this, albeit currently very still, madhouse. Reaching the door, she gave it a hesitant knock. “Uh, Mayor Mare, are you in there?” Applejack asked, before the door creaked open from her knocking. Applejack took a step back, only for a moment, before she pushed the door all the way open herself. Inside was the rather lived-in office; comfy, yet scattered with various papers and files on the front desk. The chair, though, was empty. Applejack took a step back and closed the office door, giving a disappointed sigh before she made the choice to at least attempt to look for it herself, within reason. Before she could, a soft, low, pained moan could be heard down the hall. Drawn to the only sound she had ever encountered, she moved down the hall and noticed a pony just standing and facing away from her. The coat and mane color seemed somewhat unfamiliar to her, and she couldn’t quite make out the cutie-mark, but Applejack figured the mystery pony might be a new resident or something. “Hello?” the farm-pony asked. No response came from the pony, but the Element of Honesty decided to push forward the conversation. “Mah name’s Applejack. Didja need any assistance... or, erm, maybe you could help me out?” Silence was the only response she got, until the mystery pony began to turn around. It was then Applejack wished that never would have happened. Gazing back at Applejack were a pair of glowing, yellow, dead eyes. The owner of said eyes opened its mouth, which was dripping with thick black ichor, and let out a long, low moan of anguish as it slowly stumbled towards Applejack. Applejack, in turn, began taking frightened steps back from the strange pony that would give the bogeymare ideas in scares. It started moving faster towards her, causing Applejack to full-on turn tail and flee the strange encounter, heading right through the doors. Back outside of the Town Hall, she began to hear distant and low wails that sounded eerily like the one from the strange pony she just fled from. Swiveling her ears, she could guess that the owners of such sounds were peppered all about the town, and some of them were getting ready to surround the Hall itself. Not wishing to get caught by whatever those things were, she high tailed it out of there, deciding it would be prudent to try and get Twilight’s help in the matter. She raced from the Hall towards Twilight’s Castle of Friendship, hoping to find someone there to help her. Despite her speed on hoof, and her evasive skills in dodging the random zombie-like beings that tried to make a grab for her, she made it to the castle only to find the front door wasn’t budging. It made sense, since Twilight was a relatively light sleeper and she probably didn’t want just anypony barging in, but this was an emergency and this locked door was being FAR more than inconvenient right now. She pounded on the surface, hoping to make as much noise as possible, hoping to wake Twilight up. Or Starlight. Or Spike. Or anyone, really. “Twahlight! Spike! Is anypony in there?!” she shouted, still banging on the door, as the sounds of moans and growls could be heard getting closer and closer to her current location. “Please, open the door!” As the strange, ominous noises got louder as the strange pony bodies shuffled closer, Applejack soon abandoned the Castle and decided to head for the only other place of importance. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Having returned to Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack raced up the roadway to the front of her home, barged inside as swiftly as possible, closed the door, and gazed about to look for anything she could use to barricade the front door. It didn’t take her long to figure out what she needed to use, and soon ended up pushing the heaviest bookshelf she could find in front of it, before pushing the fine dishware cabinet in front of that. She then did the same with the back door, pushing the ice box in front of that entrance, hoping to later use it as an escape route if need be. She then closed all the curtains she could find on the ground floor, just before she realized that she didn’t see a single soul anywhere around the house. Further more, it seemed like the kitchen was left exactly how she left it this morning: empty, without a hint of any cooking having been done. Heart racing and pounding against her chest, she began to worry about her family, and soon raced up stairs to see if they were still there, hoping against all hopes that they were and they all just slept in. First was Big Mac’s room, which was empty. Entirely. No yoke, no bed, no dresser, nothing. A completely bare room. She then moved to Apple Bloom’s room, and the same thing met her gaze, making her feel nauseous and scared. Hazarding the glance, wishing to be proven wrong, she looked to Granny Smith’s room. “Where... where is everypony?!” she muttered, now terrified. What in all of Equestria was going on? Why did it seem as if the home was completely abandoned? “Granny... Apple Bloom... Macintosh... where are ya?” she said with a sob. She then heard a heavy thump against the front door, causing her to jump slightly. Listening closely, she could hear the moans and growls of those... things outside, smacking against the door, trying to force it open. Nothing was making any sense to her, and she couldn’t even rationalize it with a prank or a villain she faced. Something was decidedly wrong, and it scared her beyond all reason. She ran to her own bedroom, finding it was exactly as she left it: still furnished, still lived in, still hers. She gave a hollow sigh, wishing she could be relieved at the sight, but the emptiness of the house, combined with the banging on the front door, made it next to impossible. What made it worse was when she heard the sound of wood cracking and glass shattering, as the unearthly moaning sounds got much louder. There were then several loud thumps following suit, putting Applejack in a panic. She gazed about her room, trying to figure out what to do. She turns to the closet, and realized what a bad idea that would be. She glanced over to her bed, and figured that wouldn’t be much good either. Then her eyes fixated at the window. With a bit of strength and nimble movement, it might prove to be the best option she had. With that in mind, she approached her window, opened it as wide as she could, and slowly began to climb out, reaching up to try to grab the edge of the roof. The sound of heavy, clumsy hooffalls were heard spreading through the house, before the creaking stairs announced their presence moving to the second floor. Applejack cussed under her breath as she struggled getting out and climbing up to the roof. Her heart quickened as she heard those things reach her room and howl before making a bee-line for her. With one final pull, she managed to climb to the roof, and just barely catch glimpse of one of those things shoot out of her window and fall to its doom below, hitting the ground head first with a sickening crunch. She scrambled up to the very top of her home, and realized that her house was entirely surrounded by their bodies and the fog itself. She had no where else to go, and from as far as she could see, no one was coming to rescue her. She gazed up at the sky, hoping that somepony happened to be flying by. But the clouds were as thick as the fog below, perhaps thicker. She stifled a sob, wishing this was just a bad dream, and that she could just wake up, forget it all happened, and go back to work in the orchards. Just to go back and have her life back, instead of being the star of this horrible horror show. Her hoof then suddenly slipped out from under Applejack, causing her to trip and slide off the roof, falling and screaming towards the open, black ichor-oozing maws below.
There's No Way AroundApplejack woke up with a start, practically leaping out of her bed and landing on the floor with a soft thud. Groaning in discomfort, she rubbed her head and messy mane, with her gaze turning towards her window. It was early morning, still rather dark out, and foggy on top of it all. She yawned long and hard, feeling rather groggy and bleary on the whole. The farmpony pushed herself slowly off of the floor and stood up straight, shaking her head to disperse some of the haziness. Once she felt she had a good grip on the waking world, she tried to recall what just happened. Something seemed amiss currently as she could remember waking up early in the morning on a foggy day already. To be fair, she was later than her normal schedule would dictate, but that was just splitting hairs. Was that just a dream, and this odd sense of deja-vu just a result of that, or was she missing something? A sudden vision of glowing eyes flashed for a moment before she rubbed her face in anxiety and confusion. “Aw, horseapples,” she cussed, “must’a been just some weird dream. Did ah eat anything weird last night?” She sat there for a moment, thinking about her day before she was startled awake by the ensuing thunderstorm. However, she kept drawing a blank, unable to really recall anything besides her rude awakening by the storm. She made a mental note to be sure to write a formal complaint to the weather department about it later. requesting less intense storm clouds at the very least. She shook her head again and looked outside her door, leading into the second floor’s hallway. She cantered out of her room, peering out towards the bedrooms of her other family members. Creeping out of her own room, she first approached Big Mac’s, and found it was intact, with a sleeping form fully under the covers. She repeated the process with Apple Bloom’s and Granny Smith’s own rooms, finding they’re still inhabited. She gave a short sigh, before she smiled at the apparent normal, and proceeded to wander back into her room to start her morning routine. Feeling much better about her day, and slowly forgetting the bizarre and frightening dream she had last night, she quickly tried to finish washing and grooming herself. Once she was done, she proceeded down into the kitchen. Ready to start the day, she decided to surprise everyone and cook breakfast for the family a second time in a row. Furthermore, she felt extra creative and peppy, so she decided to bring out the waffle iron. She swiftly cooked breakfast for four, comprising of waffles, a side of applesauce, and chilled whipped cream topping. She was hoping to save it for a more special occasion. but couldn’t help but let her good feeling run free and wild. Once breakfast was all set up, she called out to her family, shouting “SOUP’S ON!”, just as she had yesterday, and sat at her seat, ready to eat. Only, something felt very off once her mind was free from working kitchen chores. The first thing was that she didn’t feel hungry. Not in the slightest. If she could describe the sensation, it was as if she ran on an empty stomach, but it didn’t bother her, nor did she desire to fill it. It was peculiar to say the least. The second issue she had was, now that Applejack had waited a good ten minutes at this point, she noticed no one was on their way downstairs. No commotion or morning routines being done. To be fair, it WAS quite early in the morning, but she’d at least hear protesting replies if they had been woken up early enough. She looked back at the beautiful spread that laid before her, giving it a slightly sheepish and quizzical look, before she rose from her seat. It should have been the most enticing thing in the world to her right now, especially considering her rough night, but she couldn’t help but have this apathy towards her wonderful creation. She gazed back up the stairs, wondering for a moment when they’d come down. She gave a slight smirk. “I suppose,” she remarked, “They’ll be down when they’ll be down.” She turned herself towards the front door, put on her stetson hat, and wandered outside. The sun, she assumed, was just now peeking over the horizon, but she couldn’t quite tell how much due to the intense fog. She grumbled a bit, before noticing the paper. Picking it up, she turned to the weather, which described the schedule of the day being foggy up until the night. She rolled her eyes and sighed, inwardly thankful that the next time could continue as normal, before she contemplated what chores she should start with first. She then remembered the stump out in the orchard that needed removing. She had set it up the night prior, and had her rope all tied and ready for a good pull. She smiled a little, and made her way to the offending piece. However when she got there, just like the dream, the stump was missing, and there was no evidence remaining that someone even pulled it from the ground. Her heart began to race, visions of her nightmare coming back to her, as if it were some sort of warning. She spun around, eyes darting in every direction, trying to find some evidence of odd shadows or glowing eyes. Her ears swiveled, paying attention to the air around her, seeking any hint of an unnatural noise. When nothing came of it, she gave a deep sigh of relief. “Applejack?” called out an old, welcome, and familiar voice. From the fog came the light green coated and white maned Granny Smith Apple; an absolute sight for sore eyes. “Granny? Oh, Ah’m so glad to see you. Ah thought you were sleepin’ still,” Applejack remarked with a smile. “What’er ya doin’ out here? The fog can’t be good fer yer ahsight.” “Land sakes, child! Ah’ve been lookin’ EVERYWHERE fer you,” she barked with a mix of annoyance and concern. “What’er you talkin’ about?” Applejack asked, confused. “Listen, Applejack, we don’t have very much time. We gotta get you out!” “Out? What’s going on!?” “NO TIME!” she shouted, as she she turned tail. “Ya’ll better keep up with me, missy!” And with that, she took off with a surprising amount of speed. Something was definitely wrong, but that was most definitely Granny Smith. Wanting answers, she high-tailed it behind her grandmother and kept up the pace. As they ran, Applejack could swear she could hear that haunting moaning in the distance once again. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- It took some time, but Granny Smith lead her dear granddaughter to their destination, which rather surprised Applejack. “Ponyville General? Why here?” Granny Smith turned around, and gave her a rather sorrowful expression, before she managed to explain. “Well... a few days ago, you went out to take care of that stubborn stump. And, ya’ll’d be the right mare fer the job normally, but.. You slipped on something, and bumped yer head something mighty fierce.” “Bumped mah head? What do you mean? Ah don’t understand.” “Yeah, Discord said you might not remember.” “Discord?! What’s that varmint got to do with this?” “Helpin’ Princess Luna an’ me get you out.” “Wait, Princess Luna too?” “Sugarcube, are ye’ gonna keep askin’ questions, or are ya gonna let me speak?” she barked, annoyed. “Sorry, Granny...” “Anyway, ya hit yer head awfully hard. Worse still, ya were out there fer a little while before Macintosh found ya. It’s a good thing he did, though. Doctor said if we were a few minutes later, you’d be completely gone.” Applejack took a step back, eyes widening in horror. “You mean, Ah’m...?” “Not quite. Yer kinda... stuck, if’n that’s the right word for it. They were able to fix ya, and get ya breathin’ but you wouldn’t wake up. And this ain’t no comatose thing, neither.” “So, where are we? Why are you here?” “Discord and Luna helped me jump in and git you. They needed someone that knows you better to git you out, and no one knows mah gran’babies better than me!” Applejack chuckled a little at the tenacity of her stubborn old grandmother. She knew, come Tartarus or high water, she’d do anything and everything it took to take care of her family. “As for where, well... like ah said. Yer stuck. Not quite alive, not quite dead. This is like some sort of... in-between. An’ we need to get you out as soon as possible.” “Does it have ta do with those... things?” Applejack asked. “It’s what happens to a pony when they get stuck for too long. That’s what Discord said, at least.” “Ah didn’t know he was an expert.” “A strange feller will always know strange things, child.” “Ah suppose.” “Anyway, no more chit-chat. We’ve got to get you out. Come on, before they get to us, and this starts all over again.” Applejack gulped, as she could hear the tell-tale sound of wails from those horrible things that haunted this place. Granny opened the door and made a swift entrance into the hospital, followed by Applejack not too far behind. They wandered the halls, staying quiet, and trying hard to avoid any of the odd “stuck” pony that haunted the corridors. Eventually, though, Granny Smith lead her to a room that was fitted with a couple of beds, and a large arrangement of flowers. Granny made sure to lock the door behind them, just in case. “Is this...?” “Everyone was mighty worried about you, sugarcube. Still are, I suppose, but that’s all about to end.” “Granny Smith,” called out a familiar, chaotic voice, “Come in, Granny Smith! Can you hear me, you old crone?” “Yeah, yeah, I can hear ya. And watch yer sass, Discord!” “Oh, thank the heavens!” another familiar voice ran out, this time with a regal, female flare. “We don’t have much time, and have very little breathing room. We’re going to open a portal, and the two of you are going to jump through.” There was a crash at the door, as the sound of moans of despair could be heard on the other side. “Couldja hurry it up? The stuck are poundin’ at the door!” “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t call them that,” Discord harrumphed, “I knew it was a bad idea to explain it that simply.” “Whatever they are,” Applejack interjected, “They’re at our flanks, and I don’t think that door’ll hold ‘em off.” “Oh, why yes!” Luna responded. “You two only have a few seconds to cross over, as this takes up A LOT of magical energy to do successfully. On the count of three, I want you two to jump through the light. Ready?” The two Apples nodded at each other, as Applejack answered with “We’re ready.” “One... two...” CRASH “THREE!” -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- Applejack’s eyes slowly creaked open to a plain, sterile looking room, with light shining into the window, surrounded by dozens of flowers and get well cards. Further still, she was surrounded by all of her friends, and Discord, whom all had nothing but heartwarming “welcome back”s to give. She smiled at the level of love shown, and how dedicated and steadfast the ponies she cared about were. And there, just off to the side, was Granny Smith Apple, whom just woke up as well, staring at her with a grand, relieved smile. It was truly a heartwarming experience. However, there, standing in the shadowed corner, out of everyone’s sight, was one of the “stuck”, as Granny Smith referred to them. Eyes glowing yellow and a mouth dripping with black ichor, it simply stood and stared at her, unnerving Applejack with its ominous presence. Its existence didn’t keep her from enjoying the company, however, as she visited with her friends and family for hours, until the hours allotted were coming to a close. Everyone but Discord filed out, having announced he wished to speak to her about some pressing matter. Once everyone was finally gone, and Granny had long since fell asleep, Discord turned to the injured pony. “I suppose you can still see it, can’t you?” Her eyes instinctively glanced to the phantasm that still stared at her from the corner. “You’ve been almost gone for quite a while. It’s rare when a pony struggles through such an ordeal and lives to tell about it.” “What’s gonna happen? Will ah see them stuck everywhere now?” Discord pinched the bridge of his snout with his claw in irritation over the term, but cleared his throat for a moment and decided it’d be best to just answer. “For a time, you’ll still see the lost, but that’ll stop in due time. It’s just a side effect from being in that... spot for so long, surrounded by them.” “But... it’s only been a few days.” “My dear, most don’t last a few hours. Not without protection, or even an extremely strong mental and spiritual will.” Applejack turned her gaze back to the apparition with a solemn expression. “Don’t weep for them. They’ve long forgotten what made them what they were.” Discord wandered to the door. “I suggest you get some rest. I’m sure this experience will give you a new perspective on life, but please remember. It’s as precious as it is delicate. You’re a strong one, but you aren’t invincible. Too-daloo.” With that, he snapped his fingers, summoned a zipper, unzipped it down to the floor, and passed through to what seemed to be outside the hospital, before zipping it back up. Alone now, Applejack laid herself back against the pillow, intent on taking Discord’s suggestion to heart. It had been a long few days, and if she wanted to get back to work as soon as possible, she needed all the rest she can get. Life would carry on. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- So, it would seem that tenacity won the day in the end, and proved that even a crisis can be overcome by the strong willed. Granted, she had help from forces powerful enough to pull her from the brink, but her fortitude would have likely kept her going without help, even in the most dire of circumstances. Even if, in a hypothetical alternate take, the end would have turned out sour, the family would continue to persevere in spite of the tragedy, and likely continue their efforts in honor of the dearly departed. Death can change an individual, but how much it changes is up to the individual itself. Just remember, my fellow audience. Work hard, and don’t fear the reaper. After all, the dead certainly don’t fear the living. With a bow, the master of the amphitheater allowed the curtains to fall, shrouding him behind their thick gait, signalling the end of yet another night of haunts and stories. Wolves howled a sorrowful, beauteous cry to the night sky, as the lights fizzled and flickered out, making the structure derelict and abandoned once again. Leaves tumbled in the wind with whispers of secrets from spirits being carried into the darkness around, never to be heard, until the very end.
