Preternatural

by Flashgen

Rating: everyone
Tags: Rarity, Horror, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3170

On a whim, Rarity tells Twilight about a ghostly encounter she had in her youth.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

The question from Rarity is sudden, and while Twilight may not believe in them, she's curious enough to listen. It must just be a story, after all.

Edited from an entry into the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting contest "Seer's Spookfest #2". We were given no prompt, other than writing a horror story.

Special thanks to my friend Seer for hosting the contest, as well as all of those that gave feedback during it.

Published 2021-02-25 23:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-02-25 23:50:01 UTC

Preternatural

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Twilight was used to questions from Rarity when the two were alone together; in fact, it was practically expected. However, she didn’t expect a question so far outside Rarity’s usual fare of “how was your day?” or “have you considered where we might go on vacation next?” Seated in a comfortable chair with a heavy book on unicorn history before her, Twilight turned to look at Rarity.

“I don’t think so, no,” Twilight answered plainly, ready to return to her reading.Then she thought of why Rarity would raise such a question in the first place, and her curiosity—like usual—won out. “Why, do you?”

Rarity was laying on one of her lounge chairs, sipping from a still steaming cup of tea. As she pulled it away and licked her lips, Twilight noticed her gazing into, or perhaps past, the cup. “Well, I suppose. You have to believe in things you’ve experienced, right?” she answered. Setting her cup down on its saucer, Rarity rolled onto her belly and draped her forehooves over the side of the lounge. “Do you want to hear about it?”

Twilight marked her spot and closed the book, turning in the chair enough to face Rarity directly. It was late, with only the roar of the fireplace to light the room. A faint breeze rapped at the windows of Carousel Boutique. Twilight felt no fear when she laughed and answered, “Sure, why not?”

Rarity’s ears perked up, and her smile grew a bit giddy before she corrected herself. Covering her mouth to cough, she leaned forward and dropped her voice into a whisper. “It was back when I lived with my parents, before Sweetie Belle was born. They used to live in this old house. My mother said it was one of the first built in Ponyville, but I never checked to see if she was telling the truth.

“It was quaint though, and back then I’d just gotten my cutie mark. Ever the inspired fashionista, and eager to work every idea in my head out of it, I often worked a bit past when it was my bedtime. Sometimes… a lot past it. One night I was up after midnight. I don’t know how I had so much energy to not be the least bit tired back then, but I’d run out of fabric and needed to go to the living room for more.

“All of the lights were out, and I didn’t want to switch them on for fear I’d wake up my parents, but I had my horn and a mind to finish what I was working on. So, I steeled myself and walked down the hall. You know how houses creak at night, right?” Rarity paused, looking at Twilight expectantly.

“A little. Not the ones I lived in back in Canterlot, but…” Twilight tapped a hoof on her chin. “It’s just from when it gets colder at night. Wood and metal all constricting differently from one another, rubbing against each other.”

Rarity gave a nod in return. “Factually correct, as usual. Well, my grandmother used to say it was like breathing. A house takes a big, deep breath,” Rarity took a long inhale for effect, “when the sun goes down, but it doesn’t let it out,” and then exhaled, “until morning. So it shakes and groans trying to keep it in. She said it makes them seem bigger too, in all the deep shadows and dark rooms. The ceilings and walls you can’t quite see, just a little farther from where they’re supposed to be. Imagine how that sounds to a filly when it’s past midnight, and she’s all alone with her thoughts in a dark house.” Rarity and Twilight shared a short laugh together.

“Anyway,” Rarity continued, “I’m walking down the hallway from my bedroom to the living room. It wasn’t far, because it was a small one-story house. Maybe three rooms between mine and where I was going? And I get halfway there, so I can see the end of the hallway where it opens up in the dark. The kitchen and dining room were on one side, the living room on the other, and the front door straight ahead. I take a step, turn towards the living room and hear something move.

“It was a loud creak on the floorboards, coming from the kitchen. I jumped and turned towards it, shining the light on my horn as bright as I could manage… but my eyes had shut tight. And even though I told myself to open them, I couldn’t. It was nerves; it had to be, right? A little filly alone in the dark: what other reaction could she have to hearing a noise? And then I felt this chill.”

Rarity wrapped her hooves around her barrel and leaned back from the edge of the lounge onto her back. Twilight saw her shiver as she took a shuddering breath. “It was the middle of the summer. It must have been everything but sweltering the whole night I was working, fan blowing on me to try and keep cool. But there, in the hallway, eyes shut and nothing but that hornlight around me… it was like I’d stepped into a freezer.”

There was a long silence between them, filled only by the crackling of the fireplace. Rarity shut her eyes. “It must have been maybe a minute I was standing there, but I finally backed away into the living room. The chill was gone and I finally opened my eyes to see…” Rarity chewed at her lower lip. “There was this figure in the kitchen.

“It was outside of my hornlight, standing as far away from me as it could possibly be. It must have been as tall as the ceiling, or taller even by the shape, like it was bending over to fit. It was sort of hazy though, so I could see the wall and pictures behind it, the ceiling above it though they were blurry.” Rarity took a deep breath. “Then I realized I couldn’t breath. Not like, not like I’d stopped, but like there was this pressure on my throat stopping me.”

Rarity’s eyes opened and drifted down to her barrel, her hooves scraping against one another for a moment before she moved one to her throat. Twilight caught herself glancing to the side of the room, but managed to keep her focus. “I knew it was looking at me. I tried to back up further, but when I did the pressure tightened like a chain, choking me. I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t breathe. My vision just got blurrier, and thinking back… it felt like it was moving towards me. Everything in the room slowly got more and more fuzzy, like it was filling my vision.

“I remember screaming in my head, telling myself to move, to shout, to breathe. My hornlight was dimming, and the haze was growing and then… something broke through, and I remember muttering ‘stop’ as loudly as I could. It came out like a whimper, but the haze receded.” Twilight finally noticed the tears on Rarity’s cheek. Silently, she slid out of her chair and moved to Rarity’s side. Seated on the floor, she offered a gentle hoof on one of Rarity’s and felt her squeeze it in return.

“I could breathe again, but despite choking I… I didn’t gasp for air or scream. I just watched it, its shape and haze shifting in the corner. Eventually my legs received one of those pleas my mind had been screaming and I ran back to my bedroom, slamming the door shut loud enough to wake my parents. They came as quickly as they could to check on me.”

Twilight felt a growing tension in her haunches become noticeable. She took a long inhale and exhale to force herself to relax. “Did they find anything?”

Rarity shook her head, and offered a faint smile. “I said I thought I saw something in the kitchen. My mother stayed and plugged a nightlight in. My father went, was gone for a few minutes, and said he didn’t see anything, that it must have been a nightmare. Then he locked my door as they went back to bed. Neither the nightlight or the locked door helped me sleep. Nothing came through the door all night, and the kitchen was normal in the morning.” Rarity gave Twilight’s hoof a pat before pushing it away and turning over to rest on her barrel instead of her back.

“But… after a few weeks, this one detail came back to me. It was so random, to recall it, crystal clear like a photograph.” Rarity waited, possibly for a question from Twilight, though she believed it was simply for dramatic effect. “There was a hoofprint, on the floor. A deep burning crimson in the dark. It was only there that night.” She refilled her cup, seemingly finished with her tale at last.

Twilight couldn’t let it rest, however. Some part of her was too inquisitive to just leave a troubling childhood memory be. “Why did you want to ask me, Rarity?”

Her teacup full once more, Rarity pulled it to her lips, blowing on the steaming brew. “Pardon, darling?” she asked before a long sip.

“Why did you want to ask me if I believe in ghosts?” She gave a nervous laugh and smile. “Was it just to see if you could scare me with a ghost story because I think I got you and Applejack with that first.”

Rarity rolled her eyes as she pulled the cup away, coughing, and then returning the laugh. “No, heavens, no, Twilight. It just… came back to me is all.”

Twilight slid onto the lounge chair, pressing her body up against Rarity. “Really? Because it’s about a month too early for Nightmare Night too.” Rarity gave no reply, taking another long sip of her tea. Once more, Twilight saw her staring down into the cup for a moment when she pulled it away from her lips.

“Did you have another encounter? With a ghost, I mean.”

“Why don’t you believe in them, dear?” was Rarity’s reply, setting down her now empty cup on its saucer.

A part of Twilight had been holding back so much in preparation for that question, but the more sensible part of her, born out of getting closer with Rarity, bit back most of it. “There’s just… no reason. There’s no evidence, I mean.” She pulled away from Rarity, front hooves moving about in the air slightly. “Everything about ghosts just comes down to anecdotes, personal experiences. Ponies talk about seeing one or hearing noises or being certain that an object moved. But they don’t leave traces or evidence to collect.”

“Would you believe in one if you saw it?”

Twilight shook her head.

“Then what would it take?”

Twilight thought for a moment, rubbing her chin once more. “If they had readings to take or… anything, I guess.”

“I suppose it can’t be quantified or qualified for the moment, can it?” Rarity leaned her head onto Twilight’s shoulder, nuzzling against her neck. Twilight could smell a faint mixture of lavender and sweat coming from Rarity’s mane. After a moment, she returned the nuzzle.

“Maybe it will someday though. A lot of things used to be thought of as unexplainable. It just takes time. There’s the natural and the supernatural and in between them is preternatural. Someday it’ll have an explanation.”

Rarity hummed, closing her eyes. Twilight didn’t move, but despite a desire, she couldn’t return to her reading. Instead, with Rarity’s gentle breathing on her chest, she sat and thought. She wouldn’t try to openly call Rarity’s or anypony’s experiences false or imagined, but was there any other way to think about something so fantastical?

And yet, as the walls of Carousel Boutique creaked in the autumn cold about her, she could feel her hind legs shifting ever slightly in her seat until sleep finally came to her.

Weeks later, Twilight found herself nose deep in one of Starswirl’s tomes on magical theory. Spike had long ago excused himself to go upstairs to bed, and she was left alone in the library’s main room. The sun had long ago set, and the only light that she had was of a candle at the side of her desk. Still, it was more than enough to read by, until the first signs of fatigue set in.

Sitting upright in her chair, Twilight let out a yawn, covering her mouth in a half-effort attempt to repress it. Her eyes ached as she finally let them return to a normal focus. Outside, she could see nothing but the dark streets of Ponyville. It took her a few moments to remember the heavy clouds being moved into place just before sunset, probably in preparation for a big storm the following day. For now, however, there was only quiet, except for the breeze blowing past or against the window, and the gentle shaking of the boughs of the library.

She shut her book and carried the candle in her magic, trotting back to the book’s proper home and sliding it back into place. Double and then triple checking that she hadn’t misplaced it in the haze of fatigue, she headed for the kitchen to get something to drink.

It was then, alone, that she heard what should have been impossible. A heavy hoofstep, far heavier than any she had taken in the library, sounded from the kitchen ahead of her. She stopped in place, placing the candle down slowly on the table next to her. “Spike?” she called out into the darkness.

There was no reply, and no further sound coming from the kitchen or anywhere else within the library. After a few moments’ hesitation, she closed her eyes and lit the tip of her horn. Gentle, purple light bathed the library, mixing slightly with the yellow hues of the candle close to her. And yet, despite the light, the library seemed bigger and darker than it had moments before.

Shadows grew longer and deeper. The shelves seemed hollow and vast where there were no books on them. The stairs that led up to the bedroom seemed like a pit of black that went forever down. At least ahead of her, in the kitchen, all seemed fine. There was nothing there before her. In an instant, so much worry faded away.

She trotted forward into the kitchen, grasping a glass in her magic and filling it from the faucet. As she pulled it to her lips and took a long sip, she let the faucet run. The rush of water helped fill the quiet night, and she helped herself to two full glasses before she had to turn it off. She took one last long look down at the sink before turning back towards the library and the stairs that would carry her up to bed, only to see the candle on the table blown out.

Part of her wanted to call out once more to Spike. Part of her wanted to gallop towards the stairs and up to bed. Another, however small, wanted to simply scream her lungs out. As the light on her horn began to flicker slightly, she thought she saw a shape moving on the far end of the library. Tall, dark, blurring the shelf of books that must have been behind it. Twilight swallowed a growing lump in her throat and stepped slowly forward.

Whatever part of her won out felt brave enough at that moment. “Hello?” she asked, voice shaking despite how calm she wanted to appear. She kept her eyes on the shape, waiting for it to flicker out of being, or to resolve into the nothingness that it was.

Instead, it simply sat and waited, as if resolute to not be disproven. She imagined it must have been a trick of the faint life, when it shifted ever so slightly, as if turning towards her.

Small voices shouted in Twilight’s head, desperately screaming demands. Run. Turn the lights on. Wake up. She bit them back and forced them down. Yet her curiosity couldn’t be restrained. “Are you…what Rarity told me about?”

A sudden wave of cold washed over Twilight, burrowing through her coat. “Please, I just want to—”

The candlestick flew from the table, clattering onto the floor. The clang made Twilight scamper back, but she forced her eyes to stay on the figure, on where it must be. She saw it shift, moving to the left, closer to the window where she had been sitting. The desk grew hazy and distorted behind it. Twilight swore she heard heavy steps, like a great pounding on the floor, or something being dragged across it.

The chill about her, however, refused to leave.

She felt her throat growing dry, her eyes straining to remain open in the light. And yet, she wouldn’t make the light on her horn brighter, even if it could give her eyes relief. She was certain that it would all fade under too much scrutiny.

“Do you need something? Want something?”

Twilight kept her eyes focused on it, dauntless and determined to come away from it with some proof: a sign of communication or intelligence. She felt her breath start to hitch in her throat, a cough forming. Her horn ached. Her legs felt numb. Her eyes strained and strived to stay open. A slow pressure formed on her throat, as if choking her. The haze began to grow, surging through the room. Something between a gasp and a hiss filled her ears. For a moment she saw the windows frosting over.

“Twilight?”

The noise stopped. Twilight gasped as the pressure on her throat left. She blinked and turned to face the stairs. Spike was standing at the bottom of them, rubbing sleep from his eyes. When she looked back at the desk, there was nothing. The cold was gone from the room, though it took a few moments for her body to acclimate to the newfound warmth.

“I heard a noise and… is something wrong?” His eyes moved to the candlestick.

Twilight paused, and then closed her eyes. The light on her horn grew stronger, enough to vanquish the shadows from the room. She trotted over to the candlestick and set it back on the table. “Sorry, Spike, I just… knocked something over while I was getting some water before bed. It’s fine.”

The tension still coiled in her limbs and chest, refusing to leave, but she forced on a smile to the half-awake dragon. He yawned in return, turning back around and heading upstairs.

“Sorry to wake you,” she let out in a quiet tone, rushing to the stairs. She paused and looked back at the desk. Past the light of her horn, she thought she saw a stain on the wood, a deep, glowing crimson hoofprint.

When she checked in the morning, it was gone.