The most stereotypical ghost ever
"Alright, we've got reports of lights flickering and strange noises coming from this property." A deep voice of a stallion crackled through the radio static. "Seems like the residents left in a hurry, see if they left some clues." My attendant, a unicorn mare in her mid twenties that went by the name Wavelength, was occupied by a thin journal. Craning my neck to get a better look at the magazine, a groan escapes me when I see a mare wearing socks lie in a raunchy pose on the front cover.
I was about to scold the mare for her unprofessional behaviour when a sudden stop sent her fumbling to the floor from her precarious sitting position. In a desperate attempt to regain balance, her leg wrapped around my torso in a death grip, leaving me with no choice but to brace for the inevitable impact.
"Ow!"
"Ouch!"
I rubbed the sore spot on the back of my head, hoping the bruise won't be too noticable. My eyes fluttered open, only to see pure darkness. This must be the least exciting way to go blind. I thought bitterly. At least uncle Bright holds the world record for most precise arc welding without appropriate protective equipment. Just as I began wondering about possible future career options, i.e. blind dumpster diving -I wonder if there's a record for that.- the black veil lifted from my vision, and I saw the form of a scantily clothed stallion drift away, only to be replaced by the frazzled head of my apprentice.
"You alright there, Greymane?" Her grey irises bore into my soul with equal part merriment and annoyance. Her short navy blue mane looked a little wild, perfectly fitting the mare above me. Right, about that.
"I'm fine, just a little disoriented." I grabbed her outstretched hoof and the mare hoisted me up. "Thanks for that by the way." Wavelength huffed in responce, approaching the whiteboard on the wall.
"What was I supposed to do? You were the closest thing to grab a hold of."
"How about you stop reading Playmare on the clock? That'd be a good start." The mare's sky blue coat turned a shade darker as she stuffed the offending journal into her saddlebags. She cleared her throat before replying.
"Technically, only the time we spent on property counts as 'work hours'." She checked her actual work journal with the whiteboard, nodding to herself after making sure our information was up to date. "Besides, we're not even paid by the hour." I grabbed a flashlight and attached it to a strap on my right shoulder.
"That fact doesen't change your poor work ethics, Wavelength." I attached a thermometer to a similar strap on my left shoulder, and with my front hooves free, grabbed a parajournal. "Now stop arguing and grab the P2 gear, I want your first case to be quick and easy." The lack of movement behind me, and the steadily growing unease I was feeling told me more than words ever could. "You... you don't know what P2 gear is, do you?"
"Nope" She said confidently. "Should I?" I sighed.
"Have you slept through 'Ghosthunting 101'? All new employees are mandated to go through the course!" She trotted up to me and studied the shelf with our equipment.
"I ain't new to this, Greymane." She grabbed the apparatus affectionally nicknamed 'ghostbox' with her hoof. "I'm just... transferred from a different office, so to speak." She twisted a few knobs until the radio crackled to life. "Mind showing me the ropes?" I shook my head before replying.
"All you need to do is take an EMF, a flashlight, and the ghostbox." Meeting her puzzled expression I sigh. "The small white box with five LED's on one end." She scoffed, not appreciating being talked down to. Nevertheless she grabbed two out of three items, and was intently searching for the third one when I coughed politely.
"Ahem." She turned to me with an irratated expression. "Kid, you've already got the ghostbox." She looked at the item in her hoof and rolled her eyes.
"Right, right." She turned the thing off and looked at me expectingly. "Now what?"
"Now?" I approached the van door and pushed it open. Turning to the mare with a pleasant smile I beckoned her with a hoof. "Now we go ghosthuntin'!"
Her eyes went wide, for a moment resembling two full moons. "Just like that?" She pointed her hoof at me, prompting me to raise an eyebrow.
"You expected me to wear a tux to a haunted house or something?" She huffed, but a glint of concern was visible in her eyes.
"You know what I mean! Where's your protective equipment?" I took a moment to think about what she said. After a monumental effort, I managed to produce a question.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ugh, why do I have to explain this?" She shook her head to get rid off the apparent frustration. "The GHAST's!" Noticing my puzzled expression she continued. "The Ghost Hunting Armored Suit Tech's, where are they?"
That required a double take. Scratch that, a triple take. After a moment's deliberation I came to the only possible conclusion.
"Heh, good one kid. I like the funny ones!" I snickered and once again motioned her to move. "Now follow me, let's not keep..." I checked my journal for the ghost's name. "Loretta waiting." Sweet Celestia, her parents didn't love her.
I stepped on the pavement and began trotting to the house, stopping when I noticed the distict lack of my companion by my side. Growing tired of the mare's antics I turned and measured her with a scornful gaze. Wavelength seemed tense, a slight tremble making its way through her body.
"Look alive! Enough trembling in your boots" She yelped as I approached and put my hoof on her shoulder. "a hunter must hunt." She gulped nervously and nodded. I smiled and patted her on the back. "It's not that bad, trust me." She remained silent as the two of us approached the one story haunted house. I wonder where she got the idea of wearing a suit from? Only guys from the cleanup crew get to wear those, lucky bastards... I sighed inwardly. I swear, if it's one of Gertha's pranks I'll tan her hide.
Standing in front of the house's front door I look at Wavelength before opening the door. There's still something I need to tell her. "Before we go barging in, here's the rundown. One: keep chatter to a minimum, ghost generally don't like blabbermouths. Two: no names, ghosts really don't like that. And three: if the lights start blinking and your equipment goes haywire, kill your flashlight and hide. Did I make myself clear?" The mare gulped and nodded nervously. I gave her an encouraging smile and patted her on the back. "That's the spirit, kid! Now follow me, lest we risk Loretta dying of boredom."
"Hey! I thought you said no names!" She said, wide-eyed.
"On the property." I deadpanned.
"Oh."
Shaking my head I push the door. It gives way with a prolonged creak, and opens inward. A hallway plunged into darkness greets us, a streak of moonlight illuminating a small portion of it. Taking a step into the haunted abode I head to the nearest light switch and try it.
Click
Click
Click
Nothing. Shoot. Not entirely unexpected, but it would've made the job a tad easier.
"Psst" Wavelength turns to me with a questioning expression. "We'll have to turn on the breaker, you go check the basement I'll investigate the garage." Her experession turns to one of horror.
"Why do I have to go to the basement?!" Because statistically, you're less likely to find a ghost there, surprisingly.
"It'll be a learning experience." She huffed but complied, walking along with me on our way to the stairs leading to the basement. Passing a wall-mounted shelf filled with family photos, a constant beeping noise grabbed my attention.
"Huh? What does that mean?" I turned to my partner and noticed three yellow lights glowing on her EMF. Before I could answer, a dozen of photos flew off the shelf and smashed into Wavelength. The mare jumped with a loud 'eep!' and fell on her rump.
"That's what it means." I whisper, helping her to her hooves. "And keep it down 'aight? At least until the lights are on." She nodded and when her breathing had steadied we continued on our way. With an encouraging pat on the back we parted ways at the basement's stairs.
Stepping into the notably empty garage, I spotted the breaker's red light from a mile away and sighed with relief. At least Wavelength won't have the chance to break it. Fiddling with the device took a few seconds and soon the room was lit as brightly as Celestia's day. Depends on your point of view, really.
I reached for the small radio on my strap and tuned in to our frequency. "Alright kid, the lights are on. Regroup in the living room and figure things out from there." I made my way to the aformentioned room, turning the lights on on my way there.
"Right, right. Listen, I've got someting weird here. It's some kind of a... board and a planchette, think I've seen something like that before, but I'm not sure." Now that's interesting.
"Haul ass to the living room, we'll see what you've got." With a resounding pop the lightbulb above me shattered, showering me with broken pieces of glass. A decidedly unstallionlike yelp escaped my lips as I jump away from the pile of broken glass on the floor, all the while shaking my mane in an attempt to rid it of the sharp bits.
"Greymare!" Wavelength yelled, galloping up the stairs. Within moments, I felt a hoof pat my back. "Are you alright?" I nod.
"Yeah, the ghost's getting rowdy is all." She looks at me with a tinge of worry in her eyes.
"You- you're bleeding!" Oh? I feel something wet trickle down my forehead and onto my nose. Focusing my eyes, I see that it is, indeed blood.
"It's nothing, what did you find down in the basement?" She pulled a wodden board out of her saddlebags and placed it on the living room table. Rows of letters and numbers were etched into the board, confirming my suspiscions. A Ouija board! I beckoned Wavelength, patting the seat beside me. "Ready for a seance?"
"Are you sure it's a bright idea?"
"Uh-huh, we'll just ask a few simple questions that'll help us find the ghost."
She sighed, a small cloud of smoke escaping her lips. I felt a chill run down my spine and sighed, and a similar cloud dissapated into the air. At least we've found the room.
Placing a hoof upon the board, the symbols on it lit up, indicating that it was ready. "We'll alternate asking question, I'll go first." Let's start with something simple.
"How did you die?" Seconds passed, yet to us they felt like hours, untill the planchette moved at last.
T
R
I
P
P
E
D
A loud snort pierced the sanctity of the seance, prompting me to hiss at Wavelength. Her smirk turned to worry at the sound of incessant beeping and the movement of planchette.
L
O
S
T
I
N
S
T
A
T
I
C
Wavelength unstrapped the ghostbox and fiddled with the controls until it erupted into static. I dropped the parajournal beside the board, just to be sure. The mare cleared her throat, catching my attention. And most likely Lorettas.
"Why are you here?" The sound of angry scribbling filled the room as the planchette moved once again.
B
O
U
N
D
"Psst!" Wavelength nodded at the journal, promting me to look. A hastily scribbled picture depicted a broken figure tugging at chains. She wasn't an artist, that's for sure. Nevertheless, artistic abuility, or a lack therof, is not prerequisite to becoming a ghost.
"How many ponies are in a room with you?"
T
W
O
Alright so it is with us right now, time to wrap this up.
"Do you like us?" Or not. A question never hurt anypony, has it?
N
O
"Why?" Two questions never hurt anypony. Wavelength asked with a somewhat offended expression.
A scribbling sound grabbed my attention and I once again looked at the book. A crooked stallion was surrounded by little dots, a simple frowny expression on his face.
M
E
A
N
The page turned, and the mad scribbling resumed. Seconds passed and the hastily sketched lines formed a sillouethe of a mare, her mouth impossibly wide.
L
O
U
D
"Bucking asshole..."
CRACK
A large fissure spread through the middle of the board as orange flames began to lick its corners. Agressive static filled the room as Wavelength tried in vain to turn the ghostbox off. "What's wrong with this thing?!" I sigh. Another box broken... Daud's gonna kill me. I was about to reprimand the mare for swearing, when a certain noise grabbed my attention. A franric scribbling brought me out of my musings, forcing me to once again look at the journal. I felt the cold chains of fear tighten around my heart as I saw the writings.
RUN
10
9
8
7
6
5
Wavelength yelped when I grabbed her, running like a stallion possesed. Rounding a corner, I dashed to the nearest open locker, shoving the mare eep! inside and then diving in myself. I shut the door behind us, hoping against hope that I was fast enough.
"What the buck was tha-" I shoved my hoof into the talkative mare's mouth, prompting her to gromble agirly.
"Shut your yammer, or we're done for!" Just as she was about to protest, a steady croaking and wheezing sound filled the air, almost drowning out the soft click of a door lock. I quickly killed both of our lights, leaving the cupboard we were hidin in in complete darkness.
Heavy steps approached our hiding spot, and I had to suppress a yelp when Wavelength bit down on my hoof, probably to keep herself from screaming. Lights flickered as the spirit stood in front of our hiding place, waiting. Seconds felt like centuries, the only thing grounding me in reality being a shallow breathing of the mare in my grasp. I ran my hoof through her mane in a desperate attempt to calm her down, lest the apparition finds us. It worked, despite everything, Wavelength's breathing steadied, and i breathed a figurative sigh of relief.
The figure finaly moved, trotting away from our hiding spot and deeper into the house, until i finally heard the most beatiful sound a ghosthunter could hear. The soft click of an opening lock. Marehandling my companion with renewed fervor I rushed to the exit, dropping onto the soft grass outside, laughing as Wavelength yelped at a thunderstrike.
The mare looked at me with part amazement and part fury, shaking her head and joining me with a laugh of her own as water poured on the both of us from the cloudy skies. The two of us finally calmed down and returned to the warm confines of our van, thoroughly soaked but happy to be alive.
Dropping into a small sofa, we breathed a literal sigh of relief, huddling closer to eachother for warmth. The comfortable silence was broken by Wavelength, who finally recovered enough to speak.
"What the buck was that all about!?" She said, relaxing further into the sofa.
"A hunt." I replied, pulling out my journal. "When the spirit's feathers are thoroughly ruffled, it'll manifest to hunt you down." The mare beside me gasped in faux offense.
"What did I do to anger it?" She pouted, promting me to snort.
"Oh, I don't know. You were the manifestation of tact! Well, perhaps calling her a, and I quote: "Bucking asshole", might've tickled her the wrong way!" I looked through my journal, stopping on a page with a pictire of the ghost when it was alive. I facehoofed so hard I could've sworn I heard bones break.
"What? What's wrong?" Wavelength asked, prompting me to groan outloud.
"Look."
There, on the pages of a journal, was a photo of a donkey.
I could've sworn I heard another crack of breaking bone.
Author's Note
There it is, my first foray into the 'comedy' tag, hopefully it made you smile at least once.
Criticism and comments are greately appreciated, I wish you all a fantastic day!
