Nightmare Night
Admiral Biscuit
Every year I told myself I wasn’t going to do much for Halloween. I was too old for it, I didn’t want to deal with Trick-Or-Treaters, I didn’t feel like buying a costume, nobody had invited me to any parties.
This year was different.
I don’t know if Cinder Glow really understood American holidays. She had a book that she occasionally consulted after I tried to explain something to her or she saw something on TV she didn’t understand, but for the most part she just observed and sometimes joined in on the fun.
Thus it was that I found myself at Spirit Halloween with a kirin riding shotgun.
Every time we went somewhere in the car, I thought about the first time she’d ridden in a car. She’d gotten tangled in the seat belt, then had obsessively started touching everything in the car to figure out what it did. I’d forgotten she could reach out with her magic until she’d tilted the sun visor down and flipped open the vanity mirror.
I’d told her ‘no’ when it came to the actual driving controls—the last thing I needed was her grabbing at the steering wheel to figure out how it worked. Everything else was fair game.
Once she was satisfied with the car, we’d set off, something I knew she’d understand from TV and watching other cars move by. I’d still expected her to freak out, but she hadn’t. She’d kept her head out the window and had used her magic to flip through radio stations until she’d found one playing eighties music that she liked.
🎃🎃🎃
I didn’t know how she’d react to Halloween costumes or the creepy stuff in the store. “Nothing in here is real,” I assured her as we got close to the entrance. “Nothing will hurt you, okay?”
She blinked at me and tilted her head, then looked back at the store.
They weren’t going to have any costumes that would fit a pony—or a kirin—but there might be some accessories she’d like.
This Spirit Halloween used to be a farm and home supply store in a town full of them. Before that it had been a Sam’s Club, where I’d been shopping a few times as a kid.
I had no idea how they could possibly fill the entire store with Halloween merch, or if there was the demand for that much. All the other Spirit Halloweens I’d seen before had been in much, much smaller storefronts.
As soon as I got in, I saw what they’d done. They’d just blocked off a normal-sized space around the entrance, and not done anything else with the tens of thousands of square feet of retail space they had at their disposal.
Was it weird that a Halloween store popped up annually in various dead stores, or was that appropriate? I wasn’t sure.
I also noticed that they put their expensive animatronics right towards the front of the store. Cinder had gotten the lead as she went into the store, and the scary undead clown with glowing eyes activated when she inadvertently stepped on its pressure pad.
She jerked back, her horn lit, and I saw a wisp of flame around her eyes and I was expecting things to go very badly very quickly. “No!” I moved between her and the display more on instinct than actual thought—if she was about to immolate it, getting into the path of her magic was the worst place to be.
Her horn flickered out and the flame guttered and disappeared in a wisp of smoke more imagined than seen. Now that the danger was past, I reached over and waved my hands in front of its face. It didn’t respond, of course; it was not that good an animatronic.
Once it had stopped, I pointed to the pressure pad on the floor and imitated its voice and movements, then tapped the pad with my foot so she’d get the idea. It came back to life; this time Cinder looked at it curiously and let it complete its routine. Once it had finished, she pointed to several others arranged around a makeshift castle/haunted house.
I nodded, and followed her over. She tapped on each pressure pad in turn and watched the animatronics go through their routine before they fell silent again.
I also made a mental note to not take her to a haunted house, not until we’d overcome our language barrier, anyway.
🎃🎃🎃
She wrinkled her nose at anything gorey, and was confused by some of the meme-y costumes. She got some of the pop-culture references; I knew she’d watched those shows. Unsurprisingly, she was more interested in the accessories, using her magic to lift some of them off the shelf and try them on. Several hats caught her fancy, along with a Phantom of the Opera half-mask.
That was a good look for her.
Cinder set the mask back down and picked up a pair of fishnet stockings, flipping the package over to see what was inside. It occurred to me that since they were being worn by a model, she might not understand what was actually in the package.
She pointed to the price tag, then made a credit card swiping motion with her hoof. I nodded, and she put them in a shopping basket.
🎃🎃🎃
I hadn’t bought a costume in years. Not surprisingly, a large quantity of the costumes for women were ‘sexy’; I opted for the non-sexy male firefighter outfit. They both came with an ax, at least.
She got a bat costume for a dog as her main component, and a few accessories that might be for her or might be to decorate our place. I picked up a few decorations, as well.
🎃🎃🎃
I hadn’t intended to get a pumpkin for carving, nor had I intended to get candy for kids—or a jack-o’-lantern plastic bucket to put it in—but since we were going to dress up for the holiday, I figured we might as well pass out candy, too. Unless we got invited to a party, then we’d do that instead and eat the candy ourselves at a later date.
Cinder sniffed at the pumpkin and poked it with a hoof. She didn’t have as much interest in the candy; they were all kinds she’d had before. The pumpkin was new and different.
🎃🎃🎃
I’d never carved a pumpkin before. I knew that you were supposed to cut the top off and empty out the insides, and I also knew that the seeds could be roasted, although I’d have to look up how that was done.
The two of us sat at the kitchen table as I set to work on the pumpkin. It was tougher than I thought, and I considered using my bread knife on it instead of the kitchen knife I’d picked.
Instead, I just watched my hands and sawed around the top, finally removing the stem and a decent-sized ring of . . . skull?
It wasn’t a face yet, so it was just pumpkin shell. Or skin.
I set it on the counter; it would have to go back on once the jack-o’-lantern was done. And did I still have any tea lights in my junk drawer? I should have bought more while I was out.
The pumpkin flesh was tougher than I’d expected. I’d never been in one and had imagined for no rational reason that it would be the same consistency as pumpkin pie, rather than raw squash. It was tough and fibrous, and I finally got a scoop out and was considering what to do with it as Cinder leaned in and sniffed the spoon, then tapped her hoof to her mouth.
I nodded, and she ate it off the spoon.
🎃🎃🎃
She couldn't eat all the pumpkin flesh. Three-quarters of it went into Tupperware to save for later, either if I wanted to try and make a pumpkin pie from scratch, or if she needed something seasonal to snack on.
As I started attempting to carve the face in it, I realized that I should have bought two pumpkins so both of us could make our own. Instead, I decided we should take turns. I’d drawn the face on it, and it was a simple matter of tracing lines.
🎃🎃🎃
Cinder could grip the knife in her hooves, and she very carefully followed my lines for the second eye-hole, then each of us did half the mouth. When we’d finished, we had a pumpkin which qualified as a jack-o’-lantern, and was scary in an artistic sense. It was kind of generic and if artistic terms were to be applied, it qualified as either ‘rustic’ or ‘primitive,’ but it was the first time either of us had tried arts and crafts with a gourd and I was honestly proud of how it had turned out.
Setting it on the porch was semi-risky; there was a chance it could get smashed. Still, that was where it belonged. I put the candle inside and made a match-strike gesture with my hands; Cinder obliged and set the candle alight, and the two of us watched it flicker and glow until by mutual consent we got bored of it and went to Starbucks to get pumpkin spice lattes.
🎃🎃🎃
It was hard to know how ponies felt generally about the various social rules and customs around clothes, since Cinder almost never wore them. That had led to a few amusing in hindsight misunderstandings at my expense.
She was clearly okay with me seeing her costume in progress; she wasn’t satisfied to wear it as it came out of the various plastic bags. The kitchen table was the best work surface for sewing, and I’d seen her at work a few times, measuring and cutting and sewing, to what end I didn’t know. She never tried anything on when I was around.
She also experimented with setting apples on fire, not using normal fire, but using her Nirik flames.
Cinder knew when Halloween was: I’d shown her on the calendar. I’d also told her that the candy wasn’t for snacking on, and she’d understood; the bags remained unopened.
🎃🎃🎃
Until Halloween itself, I hadn’t decided if the two of us should go trick-or-treating, or remain home and pass out candy. I was too old for it, but she’d never done it and it would be a lot of fun to go around the neighborhood and see what we’d get. I’d feel like a kid again, unless I didn’t get anything.
There was also still the slim possibility that we’d get invited to a Halloween party, although as I was setting up fake spiders and fake spiderwebs, I kind of hoped we wouldn’t.
Neither of us had gotten invited to parties, and inside I was actually relieved. We’d get to experience it as it was meant to be experienced; we’d have hordes of kids and various kinds of costumes arriving at our door and while some of them might not prefer the candy on offer, they’d all love Cinder Glow, I was sure of that. She was a kid magnet which was a constant danger when shopping but also relentlessly adorable.
I think deep inside she loved it, too.
Cinder’s signal to get dressed was when I put on my costume. I was ready to offer her help with hers if she needed it, but she didn’t. Of course in her modifications, she’d made it kirin-friendly.
Her stockings went on her back legs, the bat-wings and bat-ears adorned her back and her actual ears—the latter was overkill, in my opinion—and she’d even taped a drawing of a pumpkin on her flank and hung one of the leftover spiders from her horn. As theming went, it was all over the place, but it was very much in the spirit of the holiday, and she looked as adorable as ever.
The porch light was lit, and so was the pumpkin. Against all odds, it had survived, even after the last of its flesh and seeds had been eaten.
I’d expected that we’d wait inside and greet the children as they came and rang our doorbell, but Cinder wanted to be on the porch, so that was where we went. The firefighter costume hadn’t come with a turnout coat, which was a shame. It would have helped keep me warm.
By mutual agreement, I was on candy duty. I knew she had a plan, but I didn’t know what it was until the first trick-or-treaters came up our walk. Just as they stepped onto our porch, the pumpkin erupted in blue balefire, and Cinder let out a long, menacing laugh.
There were some shrieks of terror; one little kid went running back down the walk towards his mom, but the others took it in stride. The flames around the pumpkin subsided, and I handed candy to the remaining kids, then after a moment of thought gave them an extra treat for their friend.
As the night went on, we developed a routine. I’d fake putting out the fire, spraying it with an imaginary hose. If there were really small kids, Cinder would forgo her evil laugh. Plenty of kids and a few adults petted her mane or nose or scratched her ears and it was a good time until a cluster of drunken college students stumbled up our walk demanding candy.
The balefire pumpkin set them back a step, and then Cinder let out a guttural growl as flames started to flicker across her eyelids and rise from her mane—melting the plastic spider in the process. Baring her fangs at them wasn’t really needed, but she did anyway.
They were drunk but they weren’t stupid, and hastily departed for greener pastures. Cinder and the pumpkin flickered out, and she bumped my hip with her head. I rubbed my hand through her mane and then tied on a new spider while we waited for the next group of kids to arrive.
🎃🎃🎃
By nine, all the kids were gone and the streets were empty once again. We had half a bag of candy left, and I unwrapped a celebratory mini Mr. Goodbar and handed it to Cinder, wondering as I had every Halloween if there were any full-sized Mr. Goodbars anywhere. I’d certainly never seen one.
She ate the candy and also had a bite of the jack-o’-lantern after I indicated that it was no longer needed.
I had a nibble, too, and then the two of us went back inside. I turned off the porch light and she took off her fake wings and the two of us settled together on the couch with a bucket of candy and a pumpkin—minus one bite—on the table in front of us.
Apple cider to share from a plastic jug, and as I started absently scritching her ears, I started to think ahead to Thanksgiving, and how much better it would be with a kirin friend.
Author's Note
Click HERE for story notes!
