Kirkyard Rest Halloween Event

Inspired by u/searchandrescuewoods

Spitfire stopped in her tracks, the wagon she was hauling creaking behind her. She tilted her head from side to side, still not believing what she was seeing.

“Spit?” Beamer came out from behind the wagon where she’d been keeping an eye out for bandits, pulling a small revolver out of her holster. Her mutilated wings shifted uneasily, still not used to being earthbound. “Everything okay?”

“You see what I'm seeing?” Spitfire continued staring, afraid to take her eyes off them. Beamer turned, following her gaze.

“What the fu-”

Nestled in the middle of the forest, as casual as you please, was a set of stairs. They looked like some giant pony had simply lifted them out of a mansion in Canterlot and set them down in the middle of a cleaning, they even still had an ornate bannister attached. The sun filtered through the trees, illuminating the stairs in an almost inviting way. Spitfire pulled the heavy wagon closer to the clearing, peering up at the top of the stairs. Sure enough, they led to nothing. Just.. sitting there. Being stairs. The wagon’s wheel caught on a rock, pulling her to a stop. It wouldn't fit in any further and she had a strict policy of not unhitching herself during travel unless she was sleeping or shitting, anyone could make off with her wagon and her whole life was in there.

“What do you think they are?” Beamer stepped past her, moving softly through the trees. The wind shifted, blowing gently against them. Spitfire paused, smelling the wind. Something wasn't right, the wind had lost the scent of the forest. It should smell of pine, sap and living things. This wind smelt like nothing. Almost nothing. She breathed it in, the faint trace of rotting flesh tickling the back of her nose. Dread nibbled at her mind.

“Beam, don't get any closer.” She didn't know why, but Spitfire knew that Beamer shouldn't get any closer to those stairs.

Beamer paused, her eyes still focused curiously on the stairs. “Why?”

“I don't know. Something isn't right here. This feels wrong.” She bucked the wagon back onto the road, the smell of the damp and dirt in the forest rushing back into her nose as she turned away from the eerie staircase. “We’ll ask Trip when we get to Hollow Shades, they might know something about it.”

Beamer paused, and Spitfire had a momentary flash of fear that she would take off and run up the strange steps, but instead she turned back to the wagon. Trotting into her place at the back, the teenager holstered her revolver, giving Spitfire a wave to continue their journey. Travelling to Hollow Shades was always challenging, the path meandered and twisted through a dense and dark forest. It forked, twisted, turned back into itself and writhed like a snake amongst the leaves, turning even experienced travellers back and out of the forest. Spitfire had only found the right path by pure chance once, and since then had developed a keen nose for when the path was playing tricks on her. She didn't need any spooky stairs making it even harder.

The boxes in her wagon shifted around, bumping as she walked. Beamer started singing in her high, pure voice, a song of melancholy nonsense. Spitfire found herself smiling, the uneasiness of before melting away in the soothing sounds of the forest and her foster daughter’s song.

She stopped, her mouth open again. Beamer came around from behind the wagon, curiously flicking her ears. It was unwise to stop in this forest, the pathway would sometimes flee and it would take days to find the right one again.

“What is it?” Beamer came trotting up, only to stop and stare. Where there should have been a fork leading to a figure eight path, there was a clearing. In the centre of the clearing, surrounded by motes of dust dancing in the beams of sunlight, there was another set of stairs, more ornate than the first. Great iron spirals decorated the bannister, seeming to dance merrily in the light. The plush carpet stairs looked soft and inviting, nestled amongst the moss.

“Beamer. “ Spitfire spoke low and quiet. The forest was devoid of the usual sounds of chirps and crickets, the scent of pine faded and replaced with a faint odour of decay. There should be songbirds hiding in the trees, this was one of the last places in Equestria they existed. For this kind of deafening silence to befall them only settled into Spitfire’s stomach as a deep and terrified foreboding. “Beamer I want you to climb into the wagon, slowly. Don't make any noise.”

“Bu-”

“Get. In. The. Wagon.” Spitfire hissed through clenched teeth. Beamer’s mouth snapped shut and she slipped between the canvas sheets covering the wagon, softly and silently. Spitfire felt her settle between the boxes before squaring her shoulders. This was going to be tough. The pathway had faded and vanished, this clearing had no business being here. By now they should have been within earshot of Hog Wild’s pigs, loud squealers that they were. Instead, all she could hear was a hushed silence, and the temptation of the stairs just begging to be climbed.

Turning her wagon gently around, she planted her hooves firmly on the pathway she’d been following until now. Picturing Trip Task clearly in her mind, Spitfire closed her eyes and broke into a gallop. Her hooves pounded against the dirt, rocks and sticks jabbing at the tender skin of her forelegs, yet she kept running with her eyes squeezed shut. Spitfire wasn't sure what kind of bullshit these stairs were but she knew that she didn't want any part of them. She ran as fast as she could, her wagon lurching and crashing behind her in the forest. Opening her eyes briefly to mark the trail, she could still see glimpses of a well lit clearing behind the trees, each time with a more lavishly decorated staircase sitting in the centre. The last one she saw was a beautiful marble spiral with golden trimmings. Slamming her eyes shut again, she kept running. Her breath came out in great heaves, the fire in her lungs nothing compared to the unbridled fear cold in her stomach. Whatever she did, she couldn't stop until she smelled the forest again.

The wagon bounced and Beamer shrieked from inside as she was thrown around, but still Spitfire kept galloping as if Nightmare Moon herself was on her hooves, which is probably why she ran smack into the backside of a large pig, who let out a very disgruntled squeal before running off towards the barn. Rubbing her nose, Spitfire stopped, staring around her with wild eyes.

“What in tarnation are you runnin’ from?” Hog Wild was standing before her, covered head to hoof in muck and mud from whatever she’d been doing. Her usual bouffant curls hung lank and filthy. “Ya’ll okay in there?”

Beamer fell out of the wagon, dizzy and staggering. She lurched over to the pig trough and vomited her entire breakfast into it before groaning and collapsing on the ground. Spitfire gasped for air, only managing a few words.

“In...woods….stairs.”

It was as if someone had set fire to Hog. Her eyes widened, she turned back to the town centre and galloped fast enough to leave muddy streaks on the ground. She ran up to the town bell and began bucking it as hard as she could, the peals echoing around the entire town. Ponies came pouring out from hidden entrances from the underground stable, armed to the teeth with all kinds of weapons.

Spitfire had gathered herself enough to unhitch her wagon, joining the townspeople. She didn't know why the mention of stairs had so terrified Hog Wild, but she intended to find out.

“What’s the matter, Miss Wild?” Trip came trotting out, her mane in total disarray.

“Spitfire’s here.”

“Well yes, we were expecting her.” Trip looked warmly over to Spitfire, a faint pink blush at the tips of her ears. “She hardly warrants the town alarum.”

“Nah, aint that.” Hog stepped down from the bell podium. “She seen stairs in the woods.”

The silence was deafening. Trip Task rounded on Spitfire, gripping her face with a fierceness she’d never shown before. “Are you certain?” She demanded desperately. Spitfire nodded, her cheeks squished against her teeth. “You saw stairs? Did you climb them? Did you climb them??” her voice had risen almost to a panicked scream.

“No!” Spitfire gasped, wrenching her head from Trips’ hooves. “We didn't go near them. Something was wrong with them, they were breaking the pathways. Clearings where there was no business being clearings. I took Beamer and ran, praying the paths would lead me here and they did.” Trip looked relieved, dropping her hooves to the ground and stepping back. “What are they?” Spitfire demanded.

“We don't know. But if they're there, you can't leave here for a moon. No one can. They appear sometimes, but are always gone with the next new moon.”

“What? Spitfire was outraged. “I have deliveries to make!”

“Doesn't matter.” Trip shook her head, the townsfolk starting to disperse. “You can't leave. If you do, they’ll only be waiting. It's a miracle you got here at all.”

“What do you mean? They're only stairs!”

“Stairs that reappear in clearings every turn you take. Stairs that get more and more tempting every time, until you just can't help but climb one. What harm could it do? Except you climb and climb and never find the top.” Trip looked sad, as if she was recounting something she’d seen before. “Then you do, and you come back down as if nothing had happened.”

Spitfire was extremely confused. “Then what's the issue?”

“You'd be just fine. But a foal here would vanish in the night. We don't know how or why, but that's the cost. Climb the stairs and they take a foal. And eventually, you will climb the stairs.”

“How?”

“No idea. Could be Discord’s magic, leftover and corrupted in the war. Could be zebra trickery. All we know is that’s what happens.” Trip looked pleadingly at Spitfire. “Please stay. If you leave, you can never return.”

Beamer walked up to them, her pale face still slightly green. “We can stay, can’t we Spit? It ain't worth the risk.”

Spitfire frowned, not liking what she was hearing. As an earth pony, she naturally hated magic of any sort. Untrustworthy stuff. She glanced over her shoulder at the forest, only to catch the faintest of glimpses of a clearing deep within the trees. A shudder ran through her body at the memory of the silence surrounding those clearings.

“We’ll stay.”

Relief spread across Trip’s face, and she pulled her friend into a fierce embrace. “Thank you.” She whispered in her ear.