The Storyteller

by BradyBunch

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Horror, Big Macintosh, Death, Applejack, Gore, Original Character, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Granny Smith
Length: 4214

A mysterious stranger appears to the Apple family one evening. Is he a friend or foe?

One evening, Applejack gives refuge to a stranger whose very voice sends shivers up her spine. He is a self-proclaimed storyteller who has a tale of woe for the Apple family. And later that evening, blood is spilled. Can Applejack figure out his intentions? Or is it already too late?

Written for the Halloween in April horror contest with The Barcast.

Published 2020-03-31 13:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-03-31 13:20:01 UTC

The Storyteller

He appeared just as the sun was going down. Applejack was just going into the barn after a long day's work, when she happened to spot him at the gate of their farm, wrapped in a swirling black cloak.

He didn't even bother announcing himself as he entered their property. He simply strode in and headed right for Applejack.

"Can Ah help you?" Applejack annoyedly asked, turning away to rearrange a few barrels.

"I am but a traveler beginning a long journey across Equestria. Can you give me food and refuge for the night?" he asked. He sounded about the age of fifty--a strong, deep, rich voice, but marred and slow.

Applejack hesitated. What would Twilight do?

She'd tell Applejack to go with her own instincts instead! So what did they say?

Well, Applejack had no real reason to turn him away, and they did have room in the barn for him to crash. Besides, what kind of pony would she be otherwise?

"Fine," Applejack sighed. "Ah'll go inside and tell Granny ta make another helpin' of stew. You can crash in th' barn."

"Oh, thank you kindly," he replied, but there wasn't any relief in his deep voice. That deep, dark voice that flowed like molasses. It sent shivers up Applejack's spine. It was a good thing she was looking away, because she thought if she saw him, he would be grinning something fierce. Suddenly she felt like leaving, and very, very quickly.

"Well, uh, gotta be going. Heh. Help yerself ta anything, and let me… uh, know if ya need anything."

"Oh, this is fine," he insisted. "I have lived on less than this."

Applejack laughed nervously and backed away from the barn. Then she scooted to the entrance to their house.

"Wait," he implored, and Applejack halted, like he had given a command--even though it didn't feel like he had, he was so quiet and deep…

"Somethin' the matter?" she asked, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Turn around," he said. "Let me see your face."

Applejack didn't want to. And it felt like her hooves were nailed to the earth. But she did it anyway. A tremor had begun to run up her legs, and she became stiff when she saw him directly.

He was indeed a middle-aged pony, with a crisp white beard like the snow in winter. His smile was full, but yellowing. His skin was grey and spotted with age, and his stringy hair was also whitening, but his horn looked sturdy enough despite his age.

But his eyes… they were chilly blue and piercing like an icicle. There was no sign of what he was truly thinking when Applejack looked into them, and that, above all else, scared her the most.

"You are very fair," he murmured. "Be proud of it." He leaned in, and she leaned back. "But pride can lead to utter destruction."

Applejack backtracked into the house and slammed the door behind her. She felt short of breath just by looking at him. It was like… like he was the harbinger of terrible news.

"Don't go around slammin' doors now!" Granny yelled from the other room where she was cooking. "You'll bust a hinge!"

"Ah know!" Applejack yelled back. She sighed and entered the kitchen, trying to get him off her mind. "Ah jus' picked up a traveler from the road. Ah told 'im he could stay in the barn, but Ah hope yeh've made enough food fer supper."

Granny Smith, bent over a tremendous stew pot on the stove, turned around slowly to look Applejack dead in the eye. "Ah'm a grandmother. Makin' excessive amounts of food is my specialty!" She turned to Big Mac, who was busy taking a loaf of bread out of the other oven. "Mac! Another pie fer tonight. We got company!"

Big Mac, covered in dough and flour, destitutely set the misshapen loaf on the counter, stared at it, and groaned out a small, "Eeyup."

"What's with you?" Applejack wondered, coming around to him. "Ah thought if anypony could bake, it'd be the pony dating a, well, baker!"

"That's more her thing!" Big Mac objected, slipping out of his two-word vocabulary, which was rare for him. "Ah do more of the grunt work! An' every time Ah try to go out of my comfort zone for her-!" He indicated the bread with two frustrated hooves and an over-the-top facial expression.

"How 'bout you let me and Apple Bloom take care of the baking fer now?" she suggested.

"Speakin' of which, where is she?" Granny asked. "Big Mac, find her and tell 'er to set the table for five. Applejack, get to work on that pie!"

The old stranger came in and sat down at the head of the table as the honored guest once dinner was ready. The rest of the family took a moment to examine the robed stranger who was in their midst.

Big Mac looked suspicious of him, continually side-eyeing him once he looked back down to his bowl. Apple Bloom was just curious, affixing him with wide eyes and a wondering, open mouth. Granny looked satisfied that he was smiling pleasantly, but Applejack was the only one squirming in her seat. She didn't want to have anything more to do with him.

And yet… there was something about him that allured her curiosity. What was he? Why was he a wanderer on the road?

"Well, what're you all sittin' around fer?" Granny asked everyone. "Dig in!"

They did, and the stew was delicious. The old pony stayed quiet throughout it all, and there was little conversation except for local farm matters. Everyone went back for seconds, even the tiny Apple Bloom. And there was still pie for dessert, which, thanks to Applejack, wasn't a culinary disaster.

When they had all finished and were sitting back with their mugs of apple cider, all fat and happy, Apple Bloom asked the first question.

"What's yer name, mister?" she asked, sounding like a small puppy dog.

"Call me the storyteller," the old unicorn murmured, drawing a small vial of pure alcohol from his robe and adding a small stream into his mug of cider.

"Got a reason for not telling us your real name?" Applejack whispered, stiff and hard like a board of wood.

"I forgot my real one years ago," he replied, and he was much more lighthearted and casual in the way he said it. He took a swig of his cider and hummed deeply as he settled it down, and there was a small gleam in the storyteller's light blue eyes that didn't settle well with Applejack.

"Ah think you should know that we're all honored ta have you here," Granny Smith said, giving Applejack a small but annoyed glance. "You can be on yer way tomorrow with some supplies, free of charge."

"Oh, no, I couldn't just let you do this for me with no recompense," the storyteller insisted, and he sounded like he really cared. "Alas, I have very little money. Let me tell you a story instead, and dazzle your mind with wonderful imaginations."

"Ah don't mind a story, " Apple Bloom spoke up. "Ah wanna hear it! Applejack, can't we hear a story from 'im?"

Applejack, however, glanced at Granny Smith for an answer.

"Well, I don't see why not from a storyteller," Granny admitted. "Whatever ya feel like tellin' us, we're gonna listen."

Big Mac just nodded and said, "Eeyup."

The old pony folded his arms and paused for a few seconds. Then he began.

"Thousands of years ago," he started, in a mystical tone, "Equestria was a new and flourishing country. They had settled and were now trying to expand into neighboring regions. To the south lay a nation-state of savages called the Solars, which soon captured the Equestrian's attention for two reasons.

"The first reason was the gold. It lay everywhere like sprinkles on a cake. It colored the riverbeds yellow. You couldn't walk for ten feet in any direction without tripping over the stuff. The Solars ignored it, of course, since it was as common as dirt.

"But the second reason gave them an excuse to call real attention to the Solars. They were ritualistic cannibals."

A hush fell over the Apple family.

"They ate the recently deceased to make the dead live on forever within them, or some codswallop. Felt like it made them closer to their ancestors. They also didn't have technology beyond that of the clay bowl, and they had a ton of sex. Whoever you wanted with, regardless of age or gender. Sounds like some sick preteen paradise… until it happens to you by some sixty-year-old. Not so fun anymore!" He let out a wheezing cackle.

"Not in front of her!" Applejack insisted, having covered her sister's ears upon reaching that part.

"You all wanted to know. I simply tell you everything. Now hush and let me tell the story."

He folded his arms on the table with a thoughtful grumble. After a moment, he picked back up.

"The Equestrians wouldn't have ordinarily minded, of course. They didn't care about their eating habits, even if it went against a herbivore's way of life. All they were interested in so far as they were concerned was the excuse to wipe out the unruly race once and for all… and then pick up all the gold, of course. So, in the name of a righteous crusade against their cannibalism and savage ways, they picked up arms and declared war on the Solars."

The old pony's voice was no longer casual, but instead dark and deep. "What followed was the ugliest chapter in the history of Equestria. Equestrian troops surged across the fields and impaled stacks of natives on pikes. The hills burned, and the rivers ran red with boiling blood. The homes were ransacked and the possessions obliterated. Bodies choked the streams and covered the earth like a blanket. I estimate that the Equestrians wiped out 95 percent of the population, and any survivors were sold off into slavery."

"Equestria would never do that!" Big Mac busted out all of a sudden. "We were founded on peace and friendship!"

"Explain that to the remains of the land," the storyteller darkly replied. "Don't speak of what you don't know. I thought you were the resident expert on that, am I right? Eeyup, or eenope?"

Everyone looked uncomfortable at this news. How did he-?

"After systematically erasing an entire culture from the earth, the Equestrians tried to greedily get their hooves on the gold that scattered the earth, but I think the spirits of the dead had other ideas. They rose from the rotting bodies scattered on the fields and cursed their own land. Anyone who had handled or pawned the gold became insane. Terrifyingly so. Babbling in incoherent sentences, hallucinating surreally, having seizures, cutting themselves and whining like filthy dogs in heat. None could be rehabilitated, and when they discovered the source of their troubles, Equestria closed off access to the Solar's land and forbid anyone to venture into it." He took a break to drink deeply from his cider cup.

"Did… anyone…?" Apple Bloom began to ask.

He barked out a hiccupping laugh, slopping cider over his beard. "Oh, of course! But they all came back stark raving mad. Gold drives you insane, little one. Don't depend on it." He crossed his legs and adjusted himself. "It's what my tale is for tonight, actually. A prideful, stubborn old stallion, who had participated in the invasion years past, convinced two of his three brothers to come with him into the dead lands to search unhindered for gold. If you ask me, the one that stayed behind was the wisest of them all. After all, he was the only one that had any children to tell this tale.

"They crossed the border and entered the Solar Fields, named for not just the race who died, but for the fire that scorched the earth decades prior, and the shining color of the gold at their hooves. They soon picked up pebbles and nuggets the size of seeds, then grapes, and they soon reached the size of potatoes, and the further they went into the blasted country, the more pure it got.

"But there was a sinister mist surrounding them in every direction. Fog creeped into the air and blurred their vision. Their breath mingled with the fog, and their breaths were haphazard and errant, for they felt something in their chests that was about to burst with fear. Whispers tugged at them like the wails of the wind, and shapes in the distance coalesced into disfigured creatures, skewered on poles like a desolate forest. But when they blinked, they were gone, and these stubborn fools dismissed them as legendary.

"As they reached a mucky river to sift for more, the youngest brother felt something creeping up his leg. It was cold, and slimy. Quivering in his shoes, he looked down.

"The river was sucking him in! Tendrils of green and black water were enveloping him and pulling him down the riverbank. His brothers used their magic to pull him from the cold death that awaited him, but the water did not relent and only squeezed harder like a python. Only by chopping off a hoof did they manage to free him from the depths. They must have imagined it, but they thought they saw transparent spirits trapped in the water, reaching out moldy arms, all cold and clammy.

"Bleeding and crying, he wanted to go back. He'd had enough, he didn't want to die in this wasteland! But the veteran refused. He forced them to continue through the shadows and mists of evil.

"Finally, they reached what the veteran wanted to get to: the damp and burnt stubble of the main village. Burnt bones of long-dead victims and sword handles whose blades had long ago rusted away littered the mud in the streets. There was bound to be the best gold here, he maintained. But in the blink of an eye, the fog gave way to shapes surrounding them. It was like a procession of furious mourners spotting the murderer at a victim's grave.

"The wounded youngest brother collapsed under the pressure. He ran away and screamed until his throat was sore, limping the whole time, throwing gold off him. He managed to make it back to the border, where he was chained in an asylum for the rest of his days. It's the only reason we know this story today. The rest of it, well… A storyteller has his ways, doesn't he?

"The veteran cursed his brother for his ineptitude and cowardice, and readied his axe to fight. But his thoughts were silenced by the gaze of a little filly in the ghostly crowd.

"She was ragged and moldy like the others, and held a hole in her chest spilling gore and coloring her chest black and red. One of her eyes was put out, but the remaining one was fearful and distraught. It caught his heart in his tracks, for the gash in her chest was one the veteran recognized. He had given her that wound with his same weapon, after all.

"He dropped the weapon and knelt. He couldn't move, for ice was running through his veins. The filly trotted up to him and gently touched his face with a diseased hoof. And do you know what she said? The most peculiar thing. She said, 'Stay with me. Don't go.'

"Perhaps it was forced on him to atone for the sins he had committed, or perhaps he chose it because she just looked so lonely and scared, but the veteran accepted. With a howl to match that of the desolate air around him, his soul was sucked out of his body, and his empty shell cracked and decayed in a matter of minutes to join the dust flying throughout the misty air.

"And so he remains to this day an addition to the ghostly ranks of the Solar Lands, looking over his former victims. He will forever walk this earth in regret and shame, unable to pass on into the heavens or the fires of hell. It is a fate worse than you can imagine."

Somber silence ruled over the Apple family. The tale had made their hearts clench in their chests.

The first one to speak up was Applejack. "...What happened to the final brother?"

The storyteller gave a dark smirk. "Oh, what to say… He was the eldest. He fancied himself to be a very wise and educated stallion. When the others had disappeared, he calmed himself down with the notion that they were just ghosts. They were insubstantial, and they couldn't harm something like him. He was completely and utterly safe. He grinned in his security and folded his arms."

The old pony snorted and picked up his cider mug again. "And then, since even ghosts get hungry sometimes, they chopped him into pieces and devoured him alive."

A more stunned silence followed, broken only by the gulping of cider by the old storyteller.

"But… that don't make sense."

He clattered his cup on the table. "Oh?"

"Well, y'see… they were ghosts? And ghosts don't have no stomachs, so… they can't hold food. Ah'm sorry, but I jus' don't see how-"

He laughed uproariously, cutting Applejack off. This went on for a few seconds before Applejack began to sheepishly laugh along as well. And soon the entire family was laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

When the laughter died down, Granny Smith cleared her throat. "Well, let that be a lesson to you all. Gold can be found anywhere, but greed only comes from within. Learn to be humble and accept your life the way it is, no matter what comes yer way. And don't go meddlin' in affairs that're none of yer darn business."

"Trust Granny to turn anythin' into a lecture," Apple Bloom grumbled.

It was right after that particular comment when Granny ordered her to go to bed. Everyone else soon followed.

Only an hour later, the house was enveloped in darkest night, and was deathly silent… save for the movement of a single shadow and the creaking of floorboards.

The shadow passed in the way of an open window by the foot of the stairs, and the shadow pony was revealed in the faint moonlight in the window.

As Applejack was about to go back upstairs after her excursion for a late-night glass of water, she happened to glance out the window and spot something that made her abruptly halt.

Disregarding the advice Granny had given her to not muddle in other's affairs, she discreetly took a peek through the dirty, cobwebby window.

The storyteller was alone in the dark yard outside the barn, with a rusty old axe gently embedded in the ground. There was no lantern with him, but a few balls of levitating blue fire encircled his head. His illuminated face was somber and stiff, and he was chanting fervently in an unknown tongue. When he was done with speaking, he knelt in front of the weapon.

"Come forth, great-uncle," he whispered, his face stretching in the flickering light. "For your spirit is no longer forgotten."

His horn glowed even brighter, and a stream of energy fired out of it and enveloped the old weapon. Out of the axe-head came a pale white swirl that eventually formed into the rough shape of an old and grizzled pony. He had mold coating him and his eyes looked tired and sunken, but the storyteller seemed happy to see him.

"Uncle," he whispered. "Do you know who I am?"

The ghost just looked upon him with no emotion.

"I am the descendent of your third brother," he whispered. "I finally discovered your entire story! I will tell your legacy to all of Equestria, and I have begun with this family tonight. I even retrieved your weapon so it no longer stains the Solar Fields! You can live once more--in the memories of this people!"

"I desire this not," hissed the ghost, taking a step and baring his teeth. "I cannot live again. Not in the hearts of a sinful nation!"

The storyteller took one, then another step back. "But I can now deliver you… to a rest you deserve! I wish only the best for you!"

The ghost paused. Applejack, silently watching, felt her heart stop beating for a few seconds.

Another ghost slowly materialized between the storyteller and his ancestor. It was a little girl missing an eye. She took one look at the ancient axe blade at the storyteller's hooves, and covered up the hole in her chest and curled up with a frightened whimper.

The veteran's ghost saw this as well, and there was pity in his eyes. "I am in the rest I deserve," the ghost whispered. His high voice gave way to a deep growl of anger as he returned his attention to his nephew. "And you took me from it."

"Do-don't look at it that way! You've atoned for your sins! You can finally-!"

A wet crunch drowned out all his words as the ghost of his uncle lunged at him like the wind. Wet, squishy bits of him flung in every direction, and a tremendous splash of hot blood slammed into the window with a bang and painted it red. Applejack stumbled back and fell on the floor, gasping like she ran a marathon.

Her vision was suddenly blurry. She wanted to throw up so badly. The stench of hot blood and alcohol was overpowering her through the cracks in the red window. And the horrible sounds... They were drowning out everything else! Crunching, ripping, chewing, gnawing, chomping, cracking, slurping, moaning, licking, spitting!

Her limbs felt weak and aching, so she didn't dare move from under the windowsill in case he took a peek inside. Her eyes were wide open, even though she felt so faint, and the disgusting sounds of him eating went on and on. Her full stomach felt ready to heave.

"And now, my nephew," finally grumbled the ghost from outside, "your spirit shall live forever within me. It is… a rest you deserve."

What to do? She couldn't fight a ghost, especially now that she knew they could, in fact, eat you. Should she placate the ghost? Warn the others? Stay silent? She couldn't bear the thought of Granny Smith being torn apart like that! Of Apple Bloom! She felt like her soul would flee her body at the thought. What to do, what to do!

And before her eyes, the tormented old ghost walked through the wall. He was, however, now completely stained red with blood. His burning eyes landed on her, and Applejack's heart froze. But she had to say something!

"Ah-Ah-Ah won't tell nopony 'bout you! Ah swear! Ah'm the Element of Honestly, and m-ma word is ma promise!"

"I cannot rest in peace while there exist those who know me," he whispered in a chill that numbed her hooves.

"B-b-but Ah'll keep ma word! Nopony else will ever know about you! Ah swear… o-on Celestia!"

And here, incredibly, the old ghost stopped. He was suddenly intrigued. "What did you say?"

"I… swear… on… Celestia," Applejack slowly breathed.

He bowed his head. "You do…" And he affixed her a look. "Then I trust you."

It was the last words Applejack expected to hear.

"Hearken to me," the ghost whispered. "If you truly mean your word."

Applejack slowly, slowly sat up, not daring to believe it. "Wh… what must Ah do?"

"Bury my weapon deep in the earth," the ghost implored her. "And tell no pony the things you have heard."

"Why did you decide to trust me?" she whispered.

The ghost blinked. "Because Celestia is a Solar herself, a former slave as a filly. And now she's the ruler of the land that destroyed her race. Ironic, but sadly poetic. I trust your promise because of who you claim to be and who you have sworn it on."

Dumbfounded, Applejack just nodded up and down numbly.

"But know this," he hissed, twisting his face in anger. "Should it be broken, and this family tell another soul of my story, I will unleash upon this nation a terror never before seen, and finally repay the bloody debt it has given to the Solar Fields by taking all life from Equestria. But you have given me newfound trust in Equestria. Do. Not. Destroy it."

Applejack gulped, even though her throat was closed tightly. "Ah won't," she gasped hoarsely.

The ghost of the filly appeared by his side and hugged his leg. "Come back," she whispered.

The old veteran rubbed her head, then gave Applejack one last look of defiance. And silently, the pair disappeared from sight in a swirl of mist.

After a few more minutes to process what had happened, Applejack rubbed her head and tried to make light of the whole situation.

"Guess I gotta go bury the hatchet now," she muttered.

Author's Note

This is my first time writing deliberate horror, so if it's not that good, I hope you'll be okay.