Three young foals wandered the wasteland on a night with little significance to them. A full moon shined between the clouds, lighting up a sign. "Baltimare Cemetary," they read aloud. Two of them looked at the third, then at each other, with evil smiles upon their faces. "Hey, Citrus," one said to the third, "you wanna know how you can really prove yourself to us?" Citrus tilted her head to the colt.

The cemetery was dark, save for a few candles burning with green flames. The flames didn't melt the wax, as if they were magic. Citrus stepped cautiously through the overgrown paths, trying to look confident. She had no idea where her friends were hiding, but she knew they were watching. She sat down, staring at one of the graves, "here lies Berry Punch, died partying, as she always wanted." she read. She came up with the perfect idea to impress the others, "probably was a whore too," she spat at the grave.

A cold breeze blew out candles sat upon stone and lanterns. An eerie fog closed in around a darkened grave, just the sight would be enough to send chills down the spine of even the most hardened ponies. But if somehow, they remained calm, the rumbling would send them running. And yet, one such pony remained close by, dared by her friends to spend the night. The young filly was frozen in fear, she watched as the ground began to rise.

The ground burst and dirt flew, the filly yelped as she stared at the decomposed remains of a hoof. The hoof reached down, planting itself firmly on the ground, and began to push. The filly watched in horror as the ghoul arose. Its jaw hung by one side, swinging in the howling wind, its chest sliced open, only its ribs holding in the unbeating heart. The creature turned toward the filly, a slow cracking sound echoed through the yard as the thing turned to face the filly. For a moment, all things hushed, no crickets, no crows, the cemetery was silent aside from the foal’s heavy breathing.

With a bone-rattling creak, the fiend tilted its head to the side. Its right eye rolled out of its socket, lacking the flesh to hold it in. The filly’s gaze followed the eye, wincing as it hit the ground with a wet squish. The creature stepped forward, its boney hoof smashing the eye. The filly took a step back, then another, then a third, but the fourth step hit a rock. She fell backward, launching the rock at the thing. It bounced off its head harmlessly and thudded on the ground. The thing tilted its head a little further, something sloshed inside its skull. The filly scooted back along the ground as the thing continued to shift closer, her back hit the cold, stone surface of another grave.

“HELLPPPP!” she screamed, hoping her friends were still close by. The decrepit pony continued its approach, now close enough for the foal to smell its rancid breath and the scent of death that loomed off it like a fog of its own. The zombie leaned forward, its face right next to the child, despite its lack of a nose, it sniffed her. She closed her eyes tight, trying not to be seen. She could feel the dripping of cold, chunky liquid dripping on her chest. Drool, she thought, its gonna eat me. She opened one eye to see the liquid was worse than drool, the creature’s liquidated brain was dripping from the hole that once held an eye. She gagged, causing the zombie to snap its gaze to her face again.

What remained of the thing’s jaw opened wide into a ferocious maw, it let out an unearthly scream, unlike any a pony could possibly make. It launched at her, prepared to feast on her brains. But with a resounding bang, its head exploded into chunks that splattered upon the poor filly, her mouth, open from screaming, was full of the feral’s gore. The body collapsed onto the young foal, pinning her. The gurgling, raspy growls of several more zombies could be heard as the whole graveyard shook, they were all awake now.

A young, tan mare, wielding a shotgun shoved the corpse off the filly, “follow me,” she said cooly. The filly stared in awe at the heroine posed in front of her, she swallowed her fear and got up. Then she remembered what was in her mouth and vomited feral gore. Embarrassed, she hung her head. “Quickly now,” the mare said, “before they can get out”. As if to prove a point, a bone hoof emerged from the ground where the filly once was. Together they ran, the mare blowing zombie brains everywhere, the filly getting showered in old, radioactive blood and gore.

Hundreds of ghouls chasing the two of them at full gallop, the mare picked up the child and took advantage of their one weakness. She turned every corner she came across, leaving the zombies to crash into each other while she gained ground. They reached the cemetery wall, and she hopped from grave to grave on top of the stones, progressively getting higher until she could dive over the barred fence. Zombies piled up against the side of the fence, reaching through in vain attempts to reach them. They continued to let out inequine growls, howls, and roars. “

What were you thinking going in there?” the mare asked the young child, who was petrified by the horde, “can't you read the signs?” There were, in fact, signs warning of ‘ghouls within’ posted everywhere along the wall. "I-I-I-" she stuttered, still in shock. Having better places to be, the mare began to walk off, “your lucky Lena was passing through, now go home”.

"Doesn't matter that you were forced out..." the colt said apearing out of the shadows. "You failed." said the other filly. In unison they both sing-songed, "now your banished!" The two simotaneously pointed behind Citrus, who turned around and walked shamefully away.

Author's Note

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYPONY