Chapter One - Part Two: Hollow Business, Hollow Pony, Hollow Shack —Hollow Plan—
Classroom Number 4 at Horseshoe Bay Academy.
There I was, sitting at my desk during my break period, grading student papers. “One hundred percent. Good work, Shining Ember.”
Now, onto the next student. Okay, let’s start with question one… Ah, that’s right.
‘Find the circumference of Zesty Gourmand’s bowl of Roasted Eggplant Soup.’
How did this student answer?
‘Wow, why don’t we leave the old mare alone and let her enjoy her food? Geez, who cares!’
I slowly glanced up at the name written on the paper.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’.
“Haa…” I leaned back in my chair. This could only be the work of… “Jade Rain…”
Central District - Inner Harbor of Baltimare.
Unlike the mayor beneath his patio umbrella, the bright sun beat against us. But the cool breeze abiding the pier fought back.
“...”
Even through the veil of the blanket mask, I could still sense Banafrit’s perplexed look. “Mayor Baltimare? So like, is that his actual name or…?”
“Well, if you must ask—”
“Forget about that, Mayor. I came here for a reason,” I interrupted, staring him in the eye and noticing his reluctance.
“Disturbing my tranquil eating experience, I’d hope so.”
“In terms of bits, I’m in quite the pickle. You see, if I could just receive funding…that’d be phenomenal.”
Mayor Baltimare let out a tired breath. “Hollow Shack, Hollow Shack, Hollow Shack. What am I going to do with you? I only gave you the light of day before because I used to know your grandfather. What makes your business deserving of additional funding compared to other new establishments?”
“You must be jesting. It’s simple. Because my establishment will shine brighter than any other. So bright, it’ll out-pollute the entirety of Baltimare’s nightscape. My customers’ faces will reflect that, in fright. Then pure joy. That’s the confidence I have in my business, mayor. In my Haunted House of Apparitions.” Glancing at Banafrit, I grinned and continued. “And as Mayor Baltimare, that’s something you don’t want to take away from your dear citizens.”
The mayor took a bite of his side dish. Near the table’s edge, a small stand-up menu displayed the specials. It appeared he chose ‘Badderlocks salad.’ He carried on once he swallowed and tapped his mouth with a napkin. “If I do what you say, it would be quite irresponsible of me. But if what you say is true, that certainly would be a major loss on my part. And with that contagious optimism, I just might believe you can pull it off. Fine… I’ll see what I can do.”
“Woohoo! Banafrit, give me a celebratory hug!”
“No, you moron!”
I gave chase. Banafrit evaded, so we ran circles around Mayor Baltimare. As we had our celebratory dance, the mayor left a remark with a forehoof on his forehead. “Just a reminder, Hollow Shack and company. Please report this sort of issue to the local government office rather than contacting me directly.”
Regardless, I didn’t give in. Everypony present must have given us odd stares, but I couldn’t care less. The Pony of Apparitions needed his celebratory hug! “Give up, Banafrit! Embrace me!”
“Shack, you idiot! Use your brain for once!”
With a clink of a glass cup, the brows of Mayor Baltimare tensed. “Will you two get out of here!”
“Sorry.” “Sorry.”
And so we left the pier for Mayor Baltimare to enjoy whatever remained of his delicate meal time.
After Hollow Shack and his blanket-covered companion left, I continued to relish my charred sea greens. “Haa… To be young again. Now, how will things work out for you, my boy?”
As I turned my attention from the young rookie to the vast blue expanse of Horseshoe Bay, a familiar voice breached my ears.
“Well, if it isn’t my old, refined friend. Fancy seeing you here.”
Another unwarranted visitor made himself known. He had a sky-blue coat and a mane striped with white and baby blue.
I looked askance, taking in his violet irises, trademark top hat, tropical-style button-down shirt, and three-star cutie mark. It wasn’t his usual getup. But I understood the reasoning. “Another unwelcomed guest. Honestly...” My gaze shifted to the start of the pier, where brick met weathered planks. “I may have to bring along a retractable stanchion whenever I eat here. Wouldn’t you agree, Jack Pot?”
Jack Pot flicked his mane and chuckled. “Mind if I join you?”
Not wishing to be rude, I exhaled a breath out of my nose and replied, “So be it.”
Jack Pot used magic to summon a posh chair and sat at a 90-degree angle from me. “I’ve been meaning to see you again, my friend. But this sprawling city of yours seems to stretch without end in every direction.” He levitated the special of the day menu to scan its contents. “My, what an exquisite selection. You should have told me of such a place. If I knew, I would have visited Baltimare sooner.”
I locked eyes with one of his, half of his face covered by the small floating menu. “And here I thought your priorities would be elsewhere.”
“And where’s that?” Jack Pot inquired, resting a foreleg on the table. Behind him, some buildings from the other side of the inner harbor loomed larger than life, much like his ego.
“You really don’t know?”
As the small menu rotated, his eyes narrowed.
“Ponyville,” I spat.
A loud guffaw resounded throughout the vicinity, perhaps even Horseshoe Bay, sullying my meal of sea greens. “Hahaha! I have no need to visit such a banal place.”
I shoved my plate to the side. “I see. Perhaps not. Never mind, then.” I downed some cool water, eyed his tropical-styled button-down shirt, and then led on. “How is your retirement treating your stay here in Baltimare?”
With his hind legs still resting on the table, Jack Pot finally put the small menu down and looked at me eye-to-eye. “Excellent. Might I say better than in Las Pegasus? Still grand, but much less chaotic.”
“And how goes your friend?”
“You mean Big Bucks? Well he’s around here somewhere…probably gambling at the shadiest casino around.”
“I must admit, I never expected somepony like you to put your hat down.”
“Why, I’ll still dabble. But there’s nothing left for me to do in life except… unwind. So that’s what I’ll do. Baltimare seemed like the perfect community to accomplish just that.” Jack Pot removed his top hat, a thick roll of paper hovering out and flapping open. “Of course, your lovely home comes with its own set of problems. None that bother me, mind you.”
“…Like what?” I asked, leaning forward and resting my chin atop my forelimbs.
“Hmm…” Jack Pot’s eyes moved side-to-side across the newspaper. “What about this ‘citizens of Baltimare complain about the streets and sidewalk material causing leg and hoof pain’?”
“Just one of the many issues this city is facing. It’s certainly possible. Not all our sidewalks are uniform or up to standard.”
“Any plans to deal with it?”
“Not all of my beloved citizens are happy. Of course there is. But it would be expensive. Currently, I can help advocate for one of three ideas. Ignore the issue, develop a special type of shoe, or replace the sidewalks with a more favorable substance. Anything other than concrete.”
The moment Jack Pot realized I had solutions, any hints of interest he had vanished from his face. So, with a page rustle, he returned to reading the rather out-of-date Equestria Daily newspaper. “Let’s see… the School of Friendship begins another summer term… Whinnyapolis noodles are still the best noodles across Equestria…” Flip. “Under the lead of royal guards Flash Sentry and Gallus, the search for Tempest Shadow continues… Sombra is still missing… Blah, blah, blah. Where was it? Ah, found it! ‘The annual Baltimare Entertainment Industry Competition is poised for another thrilling year. This yearly event sees businesses in performing arts, night economy, and attractions competing to bring the most smiles.’ What an amusing concept!”
A single brow lifted. “Oh? Are you planning to join the fray?”
The newspaper rolled back up and returned beneath Jack Pot’s yellow top hat. “Heavens, no! I meant it when I said I’m retiring. However, I will most definitely be checking out the results. I’ll even stand aside and partake in the experience myself.” A bombastic smile made home on his face. “After all, as a newcomer to Baltimare, I feel that doing this will help me properly appreciate everything this city has to offer.”
“In that case, I look forward to your findings. We have quite the interesting folk in the industry.”
“Oh…? Like that gentlecolt you spoke with before?”
“Precisely.”
“And what sort of entertainment does he exhibit?” Jack Pot pressed.
My basic response came with ease. “A haunted house.”
Boisterous laughter erupted from Jack Pot, joining the perpetual squawks of the seagulls. “HAHAHAHA!! A haunted house?! Against theaters, comedy shows, dance performances, magic shows, and other such establishments under Celestia’s sun and Luna’s moon?!” Jack Pot had to take a deep breath before continuing. “Hahaha! Why even bother?! Hahahaaa…! Big Bucks would pay to hear about this!”
Patrons from the alfresco just a short distance away heard our commotion. Their conversations halted, and their eyes stuck to us. Anyhow, I ignored them and responded with directness. “Perhaps you’re right. However, Jack Pot…”
“Hm?” Jack Pot rubbed tears away and glimpsed at me.
“You’ll do well not to underestimate him.”
Silence crept in, thickening the intense atmosphere between us. For that brief instance, only the rhythmic laps of Horseshoe Bay beating against the weathered pier and the patio umbrella catching drafts loitered.
Jack Pot steadied his gaze. “You believe in the boy? How very amusing. Pray tell his name?”
I shook my head. “No need. When the time is right, you’ll hear it.” Then I looked upward, only catching the pitch-black underside of the patio umbrella.
So bright, it’ll out-pollute Baltimare’s nightscape, will it?
“You’ll hear it loud and clear.”
With a sudden scrape of the wood pier, Jack Pot abruptly left his chair and cantered toward the restaurant. Before disappearing, he cast a sly smirk back. “Hmph. I can’t wait.”
In due time, his clops receded.
So, she still hasn’t come to see you… With it being so obvious, I can’t believe you’ve never taken notice. Or maybe I can. You were always quite the oblivious one in your own unique ways.
I leaned back in my thatched seat. “Sss… Haa… Guess I’m ready for the bill. I have work to do.” While boats dotted the waters of Horseshoe Bay, my standby for the waitress began. Then I noticed a peculiar sight from another pier.
Hold on… Is that yellow stallion throwing string into the bay? What an odd hobby…
Instead of returning to my lovely haunted attraction, Banafrit and I trotted across the Central District for about an hour. We had rendezvoused with Mayor Baltimare at the Central District’s Inner Harbor. We were now on the outskirts of the Southwestern District—not too far from the Southern and Central Districts. Each district had its similarities and differences. The Central District was always lively and had many high-style attractions. However, the Southwestern District had many green spaces and outdoor activities. Not to mention various neighborhoods, each with its distinct feel, formed a solid community that loved hosting productive community meetings once every month.
We didn’t venture deep into the cityscape and stayed within the Southwestern District’s outskirts.
Why?
I wanted to show Banafrit the lovely place Baltimare was—not from the outside, but from the inside. She thought it was a great idea and wanted to discuss it further.
So we discussed.
Southwestern District - The Mile One Express.
A slow rumble resonated from below. The blue sky remained still as the image of Baltimare kept moving and changing from the dynamic, rectangular window beside us. Banafrit and I sat across from each other on plush, blue and white checkered seats, alone at the end of a passenger carriage.
We were on the first railroad constructed in Equestria. Usually, the train ride included the occasional chatter of the conductor on the PA system. However, since some passengers preferred to just sit back and enjoy the ride, view, and possibly the company of a friend instead, Baltimare’s Railroad Museum decided to offer times when the PA system remained silent.
The Mile One Express ride. It was a relatively peaceful outing. Pony murmurs intermittently broke out from behind, sometimes questioning why Banafrit was draped in a white sheet.
With a vacant seat beside us each, I stared at the derpy black dots drawn onto the billowing sheet’s face and smiled.
“What are you giving me that creepy look for?” Banafrit asked, cringing.
My head tilted sideways and settled my gaze to the right. “Creepy? It’s not creepy. I just really like being with you. That’s all.”
“We’ve known each other for less than a day,” Banafrit stated.
I crossed my hooves and leaned further into the passenger seat. “Friends have to start somewhere. And we happened to start very early.”
Banafrit released a huff and remained on topic. “So we’re in the Southwestern District now. You said that it has a strong community, right?”
“That it does,” I answered, fervently nodding. “Among others like the Western District.”
I couldn’t tell behind the sheet, but I had a gut feeling that Banafrit narrowed her gaze behind those black dots. “Wait, the Western District, too? Isn’t that where your haunted house is?”
Askance, my lips sucked inward. “Maybe…”
“Hollow Shack!” Banafrit practically levitated from the last-minute information. “Why did we bother coming to this district then?”
“Don’t worry about it; we’re here now, right?” I said, shrugging.
Banafrit sighed again. “We… are. Oh, Celestia, pull my tail off.” Banafrit then portrayed the movement of rubbing her nonphysical temples. “Okay, since we have to hold off on improving anything financially and wait for ‘Mayor Baltimare’s’ oh-so-charitable donation, we’ll have to do something with our own hooves.”
At that, I scratched my head with a hoof. Banafrit understood the gesture and continued. “Community engagement and marketing. Which, for us, will just be pandering ponies to give your haunted house a shot. And since you’re… you, we can take advantage of that and show the Southwestern community how… ahem… Likable—”
I leaped out of my seat and lobbed my top hat into the air. “I ammm—?”
Crookedly, the thrown top hat landed atop Banafrit’s head. “Can be.”
An upside-down U curled my lips.
The Mile One Express ride casually perused through Southwestern Baltimare. We passed a red brick building with a fenced enclosure of green space.
Baltimare sure does love its red brick.
Fillies and colts galloped around, kicking a red dodgeball sprinting around a miniature baseball field, moving down vibrant, sun-glinted plastic slides, swaying on swings, chatting beneath a tree’s shade, engaging in merry-go-rounds, climbers, and exploring elevated platforms. A mare approached the children with a levitated box filled with colorful, flat plastic tubes. The first to arrive each received one and bit into them.
For now, they all had zero worries other than having pure fun—which reversed the upside-down U on my face.
“How long is this ride?” Banafrit asked.
“Usually twenty to thirty minutes.”
“Not bad. Since you know more about Baltimare, do you have any ideas on where to start? We passed by multiple neighborhoods to get here.”
I brought a hoof to my chin and repeatedly tapped it. Then, a sudden remembrance struck me. “Ooh! Perhaps toward Hooveland Street.”
“Hooveland Street it is then.”
The train passed by strips of track ballast, the railroads relatively barren and inactive, leading to a rail-served warehouse.
Soon enough, our train made its round back to the Baltimare Railroad Museum. Everypony exited and reentered the museum building. Ponies observed various types of trains—the interior resembling a railroad roundhouse. The air inside was rather stuffy and had a twinge of dustiness, but just the right temperature. Banafrit and I were the last trotting passengers arriving at the museum’s center.
As our hooves clopped on the smooth plank floor, we sauntered to the exit. Daylight reintroduced itself to our eyesight, and we made our way across the street and along the sidewalk. A neighborhood of nice red brick apartments wasn’t too far and within eyesight. The avenue of homes were conjoined and tightly knit. Every door seemed to differ in color. Lampposts and slim trees were placed intermittently along the sidewalk. And decorations from Nightmare Night were still up.
Now that I thought about it, it must have been an extremely profitable location for candy hunters. Once they trotted to one door, another colorful door awaited a few steps away.
In our favor, residents were outside enjoying each other’s company.
I lifted the brim of my top hat a smidge. “This is my time to shine.”
Southwestern District - Hooveland Street.
A keeling sign intended for carriages stood.
‘NO STOPPING.’
Somepony should fix that. It’s practically knocked over.
Banafrit and I perused the avenue’s sidewalk, approaching three older mares sitting on porch chairs. They were conversing with one another, not heeding our gradual approach.
“My precious little pumpkin is having a filly of her own now. Oh, how time flies!”
“And before you know it, that filly will have grown by the time you see her, hahaaaa!”
“Ugh, here we go with the old mare talk. I hate the old mare talk. We still got tons of juice.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe we want to be old?”
“Yeah, maybe we want to be old.”
“What the hay?! Do you hear yourselves?!” The distraught mare threw apples at the other two mares from the woven basket on the concrete. “Myeh! Don’t you dare try to contaminate me with that!”
“Ah! She’s at it again!”
“Hello, mistresses,” I said, tipping my top hat to them. “Have you seen a rather delightful fellow named Phantombeak?”
A hoof holding an apple stopped midair while the other mares cringed back. “Phantombeak? That griffon nutcase?” The mare shot a scrutinizing eye and slowly aimed the apple at me. “Who’s asking?”
In the groove, I prepared my showpony pose. “Hollow—”
“Yeah, I don’t really care, he usually hangs in the alleyways around here. But if you don’t see him, he’s probably in the alley of the nearest run-down factory building.”
“Gotcha!” I exclaimed and sprinted off. Banafrit followed closely.
One of many alleyways on Hooveland Street.
We were currently in the last alley of red brick walls, searching through every single one in the neighborhood, but no dice on Phantombeak’s presence.
“Is this Phantombeak guy really gonna help?” Banafrit asked, taking the opportunity to float a smidgen off the ground.
“What do you think of his hobby?”
“He likes to creep around shady, dirty places?”
I stood upright and rocked a forehoof. “Tsk-tsk-tsk! You really shouldn’t let your sentiments rule over your assumptions.”
“You gonna spill or leave me hangin’?”
“Phantombeak gets around.”
“And if we get somecreature like him to assist us here in the Southwestern District, we can refocus our efforts to the Western District!”
“Yep!”
A subtle breeze flew in and fluttered my cape.
“...You didn’t think of that, did you?”
“I did!”
“Don’t you lie to me!” Banafrit shouted, taking her white sheet off and swinging it at me.
The soft slap tickled my muzzle. But my concerns had me close my eyes from the action.
“What are you—?” Like her head, Banafrit’s voice lowered. “Again? You really are an idiot.”
Southern District.
Banafrit and I ended up crossing into the Southern District. We were now on the other side of the Inner Harbor from where we conversed with Mayor Baltimare. But we weren’t there for the view of Horseshoe Bay. No-no-no. We were on the lookout for a griffon named Phantombeak. He was not the sort to stand still.
Since he wasn’t in the Southwestern District avenues, the Southern District was the second-best choice for one reason.
Banafrit and I stood behind a black steel fence and stared at a factory building. On top was a steel-structured billboard with the words ‘Domino Sugars.’ It was a sugar refinery named after an old earth pony stallion everypony nicknamed ‘The Black Whirlwind’ due to his speed.
But we weren’t there for the historical significance. Let’s just say everypony in Baltimare had their strange habits.
Banafrit wasted no time in phasing through the black fence. I teleported along with the white sheet Banafrit left behind. I tossed it back over her and trotted onward.
Most of the refinery’s exterior was aged red brick, while the rest were made of white steel. Trotting across the grey expanse, we closened our approach. No employees appeared to be outdoors, so our trot went relatively smoothly.
Soon enough, we reached the refinery’s brick wall and ducked from the many windows. We then trotted along closely until we reached the corner. I peered over. Since the coast was clear, I continued along that wall until I reached an opening. Again, I peered over. The slim rectangle of an alleyway had dirty, cracked ground.
In the alleyway, brick walls surrounded us. One side had a steel shutter and levels of windows staring down. The other side had steep stairs leading to a door. Straight ahead beneath a patio-esque ceiling of brick was a dumpster. Near the dumpster, another staircase led to a steel door.
For whatever reason, it was an abandoned loading bay.
But what caught my utmost attention was the grey griffon sleeping atop the cracked concrete, surrounded by white dust and merchandised paper bags.
From our position, Banafrit surveyed the memorable scene. “Shack, is that…sugar?”
“What else could it be?” I asked, trotting up to the sleeping griffon.
Banafrit floated over and examined Phantombeak’s comatose expression. “Yeah, he’s dead.”
I levitated the white crystalline substance and brought it up to my muzzle. “Hmm…”
“Shack… don’t you dare…”
I stuck my tongue out and... “Yep, that’s sugar alright.”
Banafrit released a breath of relief.
I shook Phantombeak’s body. Soon enough, his eyelids opened to the sight of two friendly visitors.
“Wha… Stay… Stay away from my cane sugar!” In haste, Phantombeak arose from slumber and quickly gathered his sugary products. He then studied our body features. “Oh, it’s you.”
“That’s not exactly the most welcoming ‘it’s you,’ Shack.”
“Well…”
“Stop!” Phantombeak raised a halting talon. “Don’t bother yapping off-topic; just tell me what you’re here for.”
I told Phantombeak everything about my situation and how helpful it would be to have somepony spread the word about my haunted house. The entire time, Phantombeak kept a skeptical glare.
“So, you think you could do that for me old pal?” I asked, smiling.
“Why should I? What do I get out of it?”
“Well I know you like sharing information!”
“Mhm…”
“Aaaand I heard griffons enjoy eating fish back in Griffonstone. So if you help me, you could go fishing with a friend and me some time.”
“Free fish? Here in Baltimare? You should’ve said so earlier. Deal!”
Coming to an agreement, we had performed a hoof and talon shake of approval. It went more smoothly than I anticipated, but Phantombeak told us he would get onto it pronto and do what he could. With that brief quest done, Banafrit and I returned to Stable Stay.
Since I had been fortunate enough for Banafrit to wake me up earlier than usual, my third-shift-prone body caught up. I yawned, trotting through the lounge, a familiar feminine voice calling for me.
“Hollow there, Shack and friend. You want to try a new cookie recipe of mine?” she said.
I redirected my drowsy gaze and saw it was none other than hotel chef Marbalee, most commonly known as Marble Loaf. She was a young adult mare wearing a black and red chef uniform with yellow buttons. She had a beige coat, and a two-toned brown mane sat beneath her chef beret.
Behind the buffet lounge counter guarding the entrance to the kitchen, Marbalee stood before a munching Dappy Aid. A waft of the hotel’s buffet area guided me to them.
Seeing our arrival, Marbalee smiled and spun a full plate of desserts atop her hoof. “This here is my new and improved Berger Cookie—now includes carrots from the best carrot farm, which happens to be near the best apple farm in Equestria… That’s right, Ponyville’s Sweet Apple Acres.”
With his mouth full, Dappy Aid nommed away. “There… so good…”
Banafrit however, had a mouthful of disgust. “I’m good.”
“Not entirely sure I’m in the mood for dessert right now, to be frank. Now that I think about it, I haven’t much to eat. I’d rather have some lunch,” I stated.
“Well there’s still some buffet awaitin’,” Marbalee gestured her forelimbs out like wings and aimed them in every direction. “Then you can try the cookies after. I made two versions: dough with a carrot base and the other where the icing has it instead.”
Judging from the color, half of the cookies had a darker dough, while the others had an off-colored chocolate icing. Since she went through the trouble of baking them, I figured having one of each flavor wouldn’t hurt after having my lunch, of course.
When I finished lunch, Marbalee brought me a plastic zip bag to put my desserts in. With the plastic bag of cookies in tow, I started my trot toward the carpeted stairs.
“You and your friend don’t want to give me a hoof in the kitchen, Hollow Shack?”
“No, no…” I replied.
“Oh, oh, I will, Marbalee!” Dappy Aid said, waving a forehoof in the air.
“Not you!” Marbalee shouted, slapping Dappy Aid with a plate. “Especially after last time.”
Dappy Aid picked up his fallen hat and rubbed his cheek. “Ow… Why do you do that? You always hit me with whatever you can find…”
“Apologies, Dappy, but you called for it!”
“Huh?!”
Marbalee’s furrowed her brows, her teeth turning into razors. “Don’t you think I haven’t remembered you eating raw ingredients for a guest’s wedding cake?!”
When Marbelee’s plate went in for another slap, she stopped, Dappy Aid frozen in fright.
As I was trotting away, Marbalee took notice of something and directed her words at me. “Hey, wait, Hollow Shack…”
I peered over. “Hm?”
“Where did your friend go?”
I scanned my surroundings. Banafrit and her Nightmare Night attire were nowhere to be seen.
“I’m sure she just went to her hotel room. I-I’ll go check.”
Disappointingly, I watched as Hollow Shack ascended the hotel’s carpeted staircase. “Aw, I wanted to know what she would’ve thought about my food. I should ask for her room number. Good thing I have the best concierge in Baltimare amongst my peers! Tell me, you recognize her, right, Dappy?”
“Actually…” Dappy Aid cocked his head to the side. “No, I don’t. We don’t have somepony like that staying in our hotel.”
“What? Maybe you’re off your game today.”
Surely he was. The pony was wearing a Nightmare Night costume.
“No way in Celesssstia. Even with that ghost costume, I should’ve recognized them. Everypony has a distinct aura to them. I’ve never felt an aura like that from our guests. Ever! And that pony’s aura felt cold… It gives me the heebie-jeebies.” He rubbed himself as if he had a shiver come over his body.
“But, if that’s true, then who were they?” My face changed from one of woeful curiosity to a deadpan.
Dappy Aid stopped insulating himself. “W-what?”
“Auras? You’re yanking my tail.”
And so, all the guests present in the lounge were taken aback by the pleasant shatters of a plate against a skull.
I cantered up the carpeted stairs up multiple floors. I reached the fourth floor and galloped to room number thirty. I then entered the room key into the doorknob and turned it. Once inside, I looked around.
It was a small room and took less than fifteen seconds.
Initially, I figured Banafrit just got tired of me running into friends and returned to my hotel room alone. But if that weren’t the case, maybe she went back to the haunted house?
Either way, my heart felt a little heavy on my bed in that room. I unzipped the plastic bag Marbalee gave me and levitated a Berger cookie out.
Crunch!
Mm, that is really good.
Soon after, I delved into slumber.
Baltimare City Hall, Mayor Baltimare’s office.
I say it’s about time I head home.
Today, I attended far too many meetings and events. But I put up with it for the city and the civilians I love. Currently, nighttime covered Baltimare’s skies, casting an eerie darkness into the interior of my office from the bay window behind my desk. And the casual blended scent of paper and ink filled the placid room.
Unexpectedly, beside my black office chair and desk of files and envelopes, I saw a figure come into the frame of my mirror’s reflection. Without turning around, I delivered a humorless tone. “And who may you be?”
To signify his arrival from the bay window, the figure plopped their hooves on the floor. “One of two deputy directors for my agency.”
A middle-aged stallion’s voice. Presuming he’s no liar, I should take this opportunity to learn some important details.
“Is this ‘agency’ in Baltimare?”
He picked up the name plate stand on my desk and examined it. “We have branches, but none here in Baltimare.”
Strange… Normally I wouldn’t be here at these hours. Was he in search of something in my office? But what?
“Then what exactly is your reasoning for being here? In my city? Because if you’re here for anything immoral—”
Phh!
With an interruptive clack, the name plate returned to its proper place. “Nothing of the sort, mayor.”
I turned around and locked my eyes on the shadowed figure.
“We’re an agency for the sole benefit of Equestria. Our goal is to keep all of Equestria safe.”
“And what good you must be doing, with these ponies in the Equestria Daily having gone missing and all.”
From his voice, he clearly snickered. “Heh, I wonder about that.”
What?
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Stay on topic here, Mayor Baltimare. You’re city—no, civilian’s lives depend on it.”
My brows flattened. “Then tell me already. Why are you in my city?”
“Ghost,” he coldly forenamed.
“Mm.”
I didn’t have a particular fear or belief in ghosts or anything supernatural. However, when that middle-aged stallion uttered the word, it sent me a chill—a raw coldness from the bottommost depths of my being.
“You’d be right to feel sick at the mere mention. And at what a time, too, with Nightmare Night wrapping up last moon.”
“And you’re sure it’s here?”
“I have my just suspicions. My best guesses are here and Fillydelphia.”
“What makes you think it would stay in Equestria?” I asked. I would have departed for the sun and never looked back if it were me.
“Because it can’t leave Equestria. And since it’s a ghost pony, I have a feeling it’ll want to stick close to home. Surely, it’ll be looking for some physical host to inhabit.”
“So you’re here to dispose of it?”
“That’s right. Once we do, we’ll get out of your mane.”
“Fine. But what is your purpose for reaching out to me? What is your ulterior motive?”
“Well, it would’ve been rude otherwise, wouldn’t it? But you’re right; there is something else. See, I’m using many of my available resources to find this ghost pony in Fillydelphia. It’ll take a bit before I can use those resources here.”
“And?”
“Well, Mayor Baltimare…” Still cloaked in the night’s darkness, the deputy director approached. “Have you seen it?”
I thought the question over, but there was little to consider. “No, I can’t say I have.”
A moment of silence flattened the dark space.
“I see. Then my work here is done.”
The deputy director stepped out of my office’s bay window, took out a grappling hook, and placed it on the frame’s ledge.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“For now. I got what I needed. We will be seeing each other again.”
The intrusive stallion descended and left. As I contemplated, I continued to gaze at the moon through the bay window.
I don’t have a good feeling about this.
It was a silent black night in Baltimare. For personal reasons, I found myself disliking the city’s name, despite it being my first time there.
Even so…
Amidst contemplation, I sat on a bench surrounded by white, multi-floor, smooth-cut stone facilities. The streets and sidewalks were clean, but the lampposts lit the empty lanes with soothing intervals of white glows.
But from the bushes across the street, I spotted a familiar figure moving away from the governmental facility. I abandoned my bench and hurried toward him. “Deputy Director Afield, did everything go as planned?”
Deputy Director Afield continued trotting like it was a casual night stroll. “Yes, I got what I needed for now. But I’ll be returning to base for a little bit.”
Returning to HQ? Already?
“Do you need me to accompany you?”
“No need. Continue your investigation here.”
While trotting alongside him, I gestured a bow. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Agent Glace, Mayor Baltimare is a suspect. Do with that what you will.”
“Yes, sir.”
I watched Deputy Director Afield trot away. Unexpectedly, a hint of life returned to the once dull street. A taxi stallion galloped past a bank building, then me, then turned around.
“Need a lift, miss?”
I could rest for the night. I have quite the day ahead of me.
Beneath the low light of a lamppost, I looked at the taxi stallion and smiled. “That would be great, thank you.”
Author's Note
Much like the prequel, I wanted a chapter with the haunted house in action. But I'll do that in a later chapter. Maybe 4 or 5? Possibly even a Trixie-focused chapter? I also forgot to mention that I wanted to see how I would write a story within a city setting. Again, I'm unsure if I'm doing too much or too little...?
And I already have an idea of what I want to do for Chapter 2: 'The Night World of Baltimare —Hum of Neon—.'
Until then...
And yes, a particular character has shown up near this chapter's ending!
Chapter One - Part One: Hollow Business, Hollow Pony, Hollow Shack —A Not So Hollow Place—
“The Great and Powerful Trrrrixieeee is off!”
I watched as a close friend, Trixie, trotted down a pathway from our home, Ponyville, lugging her purple entertainment wagon. She worked as the School of Friendship’s somewhat functional and dependent counselor, and I worked as its Headmare. Of course, I wanted to be by her side for her short trip to Baltimare, where she intended to participate in one of its grand annual events and prove her worth. But as Headmare, I had important business here with the students. So unfortunately, now was not the time to freely indulge in a short, pleasurable vacation.
Sweet Celestia, a retreat sounds so good right now.
I had told Trixie to take the train to salvage more time, but she wanted to make the trip herself. Plus, the train didn’t exactly accommodate her wagon.
“Good luck!” I shouted, smiling and waving a hoof at the grassy distance. Trixie was practically following the railroad and trotting on a stone bridge over a river.
“Trixie doesn’t need luck! Luck needs Trixie!”
As she went further and further, I turned around and sighed.
Yep. Sometime soon, I’ll have time to relax.
Surely…
Hotel bedroom, the morning after Nightmare Night.
“Shack...”
“M-mother?”
“Shack...”
My vision unblurred and straightened a few moments later.
“Shack, dude.”
Most definitely not my mother!
“B-Banafrit?!” I quickly covered my entire body with my white cover. Then, I glanced toward the small wooden desk beside my hotel bed, reading the time my digital clock displayed. 11:00 AM. “Why in Celestia’s name are you waking me up so early?”
Banafrit floated in mid-air, crossed her forelegs, and wore an expression screaming, ‘Really?’. “Because you need to think about how you’ll keep sleeping in this exact bed.”
My eyes felt like clusters of desert sand stuck to them. So I brought a hoof up and nudged away the flakes of dry crust near my eyelids, then rubbed my eye—which accomplished nothing. I was still exceedingly tired.
OH, MY EYES, SWEET CELESTIA AND LUNA! HELP ME!
I covered both of my eyes with two hooves, thrusting my stomach upward from my position on the bed, feigning to be in more pain than I actually was. “Banafrit! I might have to stay in bed today!”
With careful adjustment, I created a tiny gap between my eye and hoof, allowing me to sneakily witness her look of worry. The sun beamed through the open window, freely passing through her translucent body, the light so generously brightening her ectoplasm. She bared no wings or horns, so she had been an earth pony if she was any race. Her butterfly-styled mane flaunted two bangs on either side of her head, and her eyes were light grey.
The ghost pony, Banafrit, still had her hooves crossed, and her facial expression hadn’t changed a bit. She stared straight at me, her eyebrows flatlined and a glower accompanied by a wrinkled chin.
Ghost ponies have wrinkles. Noted.
“Vampy.”
Hey, wait, why is she saying the name of my best friend?!
“Meow,” Vampy kitty-catted.
“Think you can get Shack out of bed?”
“Wait, Banafrit! I’ll get up!”
Hiss!
Banafrit’s expression relaxed for her mouth to flatline rather than her eyebrows. Her dots for eyes glanced from my pet cat to me. “It’s too late.”
With all I might, I cried out, “Nooo!”
Vampy continued his assault with a pounce, then clawed the bedcovers to shreds. My screams were in vain. The only other pony to recognize my present danger was a neighbor banging on his floor from the room above.
So, from my perspective, the peeved shout came from my rough-textured ceiling. “Not again, Hollow Shack! Do I need to come down there?!”
While Vampy sharpened his claws on my tail, I looked upward and answered back. “That won’t be necessary, neighbor!” Then I realized something. “Wait, Banafrit, why did you leave the haunted house? You risked your safety by visiting me in my hotel room… Huhh! Were you planning on making me breakfast?!”
“No. And suppose you’re going to keep me hidden; in that case, you’ll need to pay off the mortgage of said ‘haunted house,’” Banafrit responded, emphasizing air quotes with her transparent hooves, still hovering around one meter off the floor.
“Right. We’ll think of something after I put on my uniform and eat.” I hopped off my bed with a muffled clop on the carpet floor—a thud and cat scream following. “Oops, sorry about that, Vampy.”
Hiss!
I shook my storm grey mane into tip-top shape. At the corner of the headboard’s top rail, I glimpsed my signature deep navy blue top hat with a purple band wrapped around it. I placed my horn below, quickly launching the hat into the air so it could land on my head. When I saw it missed its mark and started falling past my neck, my horn glowed mint green. In response, magic enveloped the hat, causing it to softly and meticulously place itself atop my head, just behind my horn. I stood proudly with my chest out, and for some odd reason, my cheeks flared. Cough!
In the awkward silence, Banafrit’s voice held no emotion. “I should’ve let those bozos capture me.”
Anywho, I turned on the radio, twisted the knob, and started listening to my favorite song, ‘Unicorns Do Magic,’ remembering I still had to take a shower. After that, I sang along to the lyrics and danced to the bathroom. “Unicorns do maaagic!”
“Haa… I’m stuck with an idiot.”
Stable Stay Hotel lounge.
After cleaning myself up, I descended to the daylit lounge to exit Stable Stay—the hotel. Banafrit disappeared upward toward the ceiling, paving her path toward the haunted house. On my way out, a spirited voice called out to me.
“Hey there, Hollow Shack!”
A young, skinny stallion with freckles on his cheeks, a pair of glasses perched on his muzzle, a yellow coat, and an orange mane. Basically, a macaroni and cheese color palette. The one and only concierge for this hotel, Dappy Aid, waved his hoof from behind his counter. Away from the carpeted staircase, my hooves met the intricately patterned marble floor.
I initially walked up to the revolving door but then turned around. I was no rude pony and had proper courtesy. As I meandered away from the cozy lounging section, with its inviting green sofas and chairs, accompanied by small wooden and glass tables, I approached the alluring red oak counter, eager to engage in delightful conversation. “Howdy-do this mornin’, Dappy! How’s my favorite concierge doing?”
Of course, I had nothing against Dappy Aid. I was just in a hurry. I had nothing but respect for the young earth pony. As mentioned, he alone was the only concierge for Stable Stay Hotel, which easily housed over five hundred residents. He continued to work here valiantly, fully aware of the importance of his role as caretaker, and determined to excel in it to offer the best possible assistance across Baltimare. It was close to what I was trying to achieve with my business.
I approached the pony wearing a red, black, and yellow concierge uniform, complete with a stylish matching hat, behind the polished red oak counter. As I walked over, he started talking, revealing his multicolored braces. Sometimes, he would spray it rather than say it. I didn’t mind, though. “FFFFFantastic!”
Aaaaaand he hit me. Still, a smile remained on my face. “That’s… great to hear!”
“I’m enjoying the honey butter croissants Marbalee whipped up this morning. Then my boss was so impressed by my recent efforts that he gave me a raise!” Dappy exclaimed, diving his face into a croissant.
A peculiar, charred smell stung my nostrils. Ohh… the croissant was burnt.
Upon that information, I glanced to the right of the relaxing lounge. I saw another red oak counter with see-through plastic displays of baked goods and breakfast food filling up silvery buffet containers. Carrots and radishes were sorted out on wooden displays. None of them appeared burnt. In response, I licked my lips, noticing the hotel chef Marbalee was nowhere to be seen.
She’s probably in the kitchen or on break, I’m sure.
“Wow, Thimble Sorbet did that?” I asked, trying to picture the lazy hotel manager doing his job.
“Uh-huh, you sorbet he did! How are things going with you and your haunted house?”
Other hotel residents continued their chitter-chatter throughout the lobby, engaged in conversation, indulging in their breakfast meals, or lazing around reading a book. Not to mention the fwip sound of the revolving entrance door coming and going. Yet, everypony was unbothered by my proclamation as I pointed a hoof at the ceiling. “The grand opening went fine. But right now, I’m going to make things even better!”
My action gestured for Dappy Aid to lock his gaze on the ceiling. “Like, right now, right now?”
While he was distracted, I slid a hoof across the counter’s surface, ensuring the burnt croissant fell into the trash.
“Right now, right now!” I reiterated, turning around and aiming my trot toward the revolving door. “Sorry, Dappy Aid, but duty calls!”
“Certainly, Hollow Shack! Good luck!” Dappy said, pondering the details. “Wait, isn’t it only open during night hours?” Then he looked down and found his half-gone croissant was… well, gone. “Aw, shhhhucks.”
“I didn’t hear that last part!” I yelled from within the circling doors, pushing the transparent screens with my head, working an axis. Then my belly grumbled, reminding me I forgot to eat breakfast.
Pancakes with blueberries and raspberries topped with a mountain of whipped cream sound fantastic right now.
Stepping out of Stable Stay’s entrance, the daylight momentarily blinded me. Still, soon, the sprightly world of Baltimare unfolded before my eyes. From inside, not even the lounge could showcase the full splendor. With all its charm, the hotel lounge paled compared to the city’s heartbeat: the Central District, one of the nine unique sectors—as well as the economic and social hub of Baltimare, attracting the most attention from tourists.
Towering buildings, both near and far, boasted their own distinct materials and structures. Flat, pointy, and dome roofs—you name it, Baltimare had it.
A stone grey cement street stretched from the right and left with the sound of rolling wooden wheels and hooves clopping. Taxi stallions pulled carriages with customer ponies sitting inside. A mime tried mimicking the movements of a young pony, resulting in the scared filly galloping to her father. Across the street, in a narrow alleyway, artist ponies were spouting colors to the walls of a building with their spray-paint cans, causing an officer to stride over.
I inhaled the familiar chaotic air of Baltimare, a city I had loved since the day I arrived, so much so I could burst out in song! Then, while continuing to stand on the sidewalk readying my vocal cords, a wobbling brown stallion bumped into my side and belched.
“Mud Swing! How many times does this make it now?”
“~Buurrrrppp. Ehh… I dunno, sixteen million?”
“Th-The third… Goodness, no, the third. Close guess, though! And usually, I run into you at nighttime. What are you doing out here so early?”
“~Hicuuh! You have any bits? Or hard cider on ya—?” he hiccuped and asked, falling asleep on the sidewalk instantly, even going so far as to snore. Oh my. Well, that’s Mud Swing for you! Or should I say for ya—!
“Have a good day, Mud Swing!” I parted, slowly turning away and trotting off toward my establishment of splendid spookiness.
However, I ran into somepony like how Mud Swing ran into me. Except, it was not a pony, but a griffon officer. “Did you do something to that stallion over there?” he asked, glaring at me skeptically.
“What? No, of course not, officer…?” My eyes darted for his name badge.
“Talonsworth.”
“No, of course not, Officer Talonsworth!” I stood on my hind legs and reached a hoof out toward him. “I’m Hollow Shack! Pony of Apparitions! Advocate in all that is uncanny—!”
“Okay, so you’re on something. Tsk, I knew it.”
“Eh—?”
“You’ll have to come with me, ‘hOlLoW sHAcK.’”
Still standing upright, I positioned my hooves on both sides of my flank. “Well, that’s just mean and uncalled for.”
“You have the right to remain silent, freak.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my lawyer!” I proclaimed, high into the troposphere, perhaps even the stratosphere!
“You don’t have a lawyer.”
“H-how’d you know?”
Officer Talonsworth pointed to his beak. “I don’t smell em’.”
“Wha—?” My face could only contort from bewilderment.
“I can smell lawyers.”
Ah, how could I not come to that conclusion? Just my luck.
Central District - Baltimore Police Department entrance.
The police department was close. In fact, there were a few departments in the Central District, including the headquarters. One explanation was that the City Hall is located in the Central District. But upon reaching the police building…
“Hey, where did you go?!”
I booked it. How? Easy. I am a unicorn. I simply teleported away. This might come back to bite me on the butt. However, I didn’t have time for these shenanigans. So, nestled between two one-way roads, I hid in the bushes not too far from Officer Talonsworth. The well-watered green leaves tickled and brushed against me while the branches scratched and pricked me.
Officer Talonsworth gandered to and fro, but to no avail. “Ugh, I don’t get paid enough for this.”
Boy, I know how that is. Maybe we can drink some good ol’ apple cider after I get my business booming.
“Mommy, why is that stallion hiding in the bushes over there?” a young colt asked his mother from a sidewalk across the street and pointed toward me, standing near the entrance of a brunch diner. Since the leaves gave me an itchy sensation, I tried to use the branches to scratch. My movements must have given my position away.
Why couldn’t they have just entered and stuffed their faces?! Watch yourself, young colt. If I ever catch you in my haunted house, I am making doubly sure Banafrit gives you the fright of your life. “Sorry, Banafrit, but I might be later than expected,” I whispered to myself, teleported, and continued galloping away from the scene into the streets of Baltimare. “Not today, copper!”
I ran and ran, sprinting by various stores, a monument park, a university, and a three-story middle school building made of brick with a mint green capital dome-like structure beside its roof.
Hang in there and learn on my little ponies!
The same morning, Classroom Number 4 at Horseshoe Bay Academy.
“Okay, class… Today, we will learn about… Scalars and vectors…” our teacher, Miss Hootenanny, oh so stalely, stated. She sat at her desk in front of a chalkboard. A middle-aged mare, a tad on the larger side, had a coat of lavender and a plain mint green hairdo. Because of her, the air in the classroom was burdened with boredom, and the walls sighed in tandem.
“Ugh, I’m sooooo bored,” I groaned, ready to fall asleep in the middle of class. And this was only the third period!
I sat in the back of the classroom next to a window showcasing a red brick apartment complex, a relatively active sidewalk with a grown mare entering her home with a cardboard bag of groceries and a taxi pony waiting for their client to enter the carriage. And one desk to the right of me, my best friend, a red colt with an even darker red mane, replied in a docile, worried voice. “Please, Jade Rain, Miss Hootenanny might hear you.”
“Don’t care,” I countered, reclining in the dark blue plastic chair, my head tilted back against the support. My gaze fixated on the ceiling with an apathetic stare and my mouth agape—a hint of drool escaping from the corner of my lip.
The classroom was a typical setup, with four rows of beige desks accommodating sixteen students. But what made it unique was our teacher, Miss Hootenanny. She had a knack for turning even the most exciting subjects into a snore. I mean, listen to her! “Blah, blah, blah, blah…. fashion, blah.” It was complete and utter gibberish.
“Now… Can anyone tell me the difference between these two forms of quantity…”
The classroom remained muted. There were no crickets here, but that’s all I heard—that and the quivering anxiety of Shining Ember’s desk—the literal embodiment of a student trying to avoid the teacher’s attention. He rested his chin on the table, covered his head with hooves, and muttered, “Don’t pick me, don’t pick me, don’t pick me ∞.”
Classic Emb.
“Haa…” Miss Hootenanny sighed.
How do you think we feel?
“As expected… Jade Rain, would you like to give it a shot?”
Nope, don’t look at me, lady. I’m lost in my own world.
“I… don’t even know why I tried.”
Me neither.
If only Shining Ember and I were older, we could roam Baltimare at our leisure, enjoying endless adventures. Like yesterday for Nightmare Night. I mean, we encountered a real ghost pony! And now, we’ll be able to go there again and experience a whole different level of fright anew! The stallion running the joint wasn’t half-bad, either. Hollow Shack, if I remembered correctly. Now that guy would make for a fun teacher.
I looked away from the ceiling and peered out the window again, staring at the blue sky and the red brick apartment complex.
I wonder what they’re up to now… Zzz…
Waking up an eternity later, after class was over and everypony started packing their saddlebags, Miss Hootenanny revealed what we would learn about next time. “Tomorrow, we’ll be discussing the conservation of… energy…” Which received a round of groans from all the students.
Impossible. Any energy we have stocked gets pulverized by your lessons.
“We’ll also watch some videos of Bill Neigh… And if any of you wish to attend the School of Friendship… try to put in more effort during class…” Tomorrow certainly wouldn’t be as dull as today, that was for sure. Anyway, as Shining Ember and I were on our way to be the first ponies to leave the room, our teacher called out to us. “What about you two?”
“Nah, not interested,” I replied, already standing in the hallway with a wall of red open front lockers.
Close behind me, Shining Ember followed up with his response, a voice filled with angst. “N-no way… That would mean a more populated school, which means more diverse creatures, personalities, smells, sizes, ages, crowds, group projects with strangers, an unfamiliar building layout, new teachers, and… STRANGERS!” The thought of these changes sent a shiver down Emb’s spine, so he dashed down the hallway startled by his own words.
Unsurprised, I shouted out to him. “We still have more classes, Emb!”
“Why do I even try… Class dismissed.”
Before departing for another tedious class, I left my teacher with some parting words of advice, “Money talks.”
Central District, the front of Stable Stay Hotel.
On my way to my haunted house, I passed by the entrance of my hotel again, bumping into the rear end of somepony. “Whoops, sorry about that—”
Ah, crud.
“Ah, just the pony I had been looking for,” the extravagant stallion said, turning around and facing me—a pale green unicorn with a sparkling white tail and mane, curly mustache, and lock of chin hair. He wore a sophisticated brown and white tailcoat tuxedo with a tiny yellow flower pinned to his chest and a monocle perched over one eye. Near the coattails, his flank flaunted his cutie mark—a stage with scarlet curtains and two spotlight beams. A successful showpony and one of my pompous business rivals, Splendid Seats.
I hardly resisted the urge to furrow my brow. “Howdy a do, Splendid Seats.”
“Hollow Shack. How is your venture in the realm of entertainment progressing?”
“The grand opening went fine. But if you don’t mind, I’m actually on my way to thinking about improvements,” I stated, striding by his arrogant grin. My determination to succeed in the entertainment industry was high, even in the smug mug of such a formidable foe.
However, that didn’t stop him from continuing the conversation behind my tail. “Do you genuinely believe that your preposterous, aberrant, dinky, haunted house can contend with the grandeur of the esteemed domain that is theater?”
“…” Blood cold, I stopped in my tracks, darting my eyes at his famed establishment across the street. Three sides of the stylistic marquee featured yellow dotted lights and title cards. Each one displayed different times and headings. A U-shaped red brick floor was laid before the entrance rather than the concrete sidewalk’s continuation. The building was made of a smooth beige cut stone and stretched sixty meters high. Admittedly, I had never been inside. My haunted house, on the other hoof, was a humble structure, barely noticeable in comparison.
“To converse with you, I made the effort to visit that frivolous dwelling of yours. If you were present, that is. And you weren’t, nor was anypony. I wanted to witness your ‘grand opening’ myself, but I, for one, had my hooves full, even on Nightmare Night. Isn’t that just splendid? They sure were some splendid seats—that’s the name, don’t wear it out, aha.”
He was right. Splendid Seats… was right. With how ambitious theater was, my attraction could never hope to compete on equal grounding. It would forever pale in comparison for as long as I lived and for all eternity. “Heh.” And yet I… “Hahahaha!” And yet, I smiled and guffawed like no other—my voice booming into the blue yonder.
Splendid Seats softly snorted. “And what’s so funny?”
I turned around and locked my mint green eyes to his orange. “I imagined the look on your face when I beat you in the annual Baltimare Entertainment Industry Competition. The others, too, but mostly you.”
“Oh, well, Hollow Shack, that’s rich, unlike you! Anyhow, if you’ll excuse me, I shall get back to running my next sold-out show,” Splendid Seats scoffed and bragged, striding to his theater across the street.
Realizing the weight of what I said, I broke out into a cold sweat.
Oh, you and your big mouth, Hollow Shack.
Around twenty minutes later, Western District, the entrance of Hollow Shack’s Haunted House of Apparitions.
“Oh, how I missed you, honey,” I said, standing before my true love, ready to ascend the steep staircase to enter. She may have appeared like your everyday street store from the outside, but inside, she was much more spacious than one would think. The street we resided in was not the liveliest, it’s true. But that was to be expected with these niche businesses of ours.
That’s right. My haunted house stood tightly between two other charming establishments. On the left was a store selling fishing goods, and on the right, an unsung tavern near the street’s corner. It didn’t take long for me to strike a friendship with the two owners.
Speaking of one of those two owners, one of them exited the fishing store to approach me. A yellow stallion with olive green hair wearing a shabby beige bucket hat with black strings dangling below his chin. He had wings and a cutie mark depicting a thrown string with a plastic clownfish on the end. “How goes it there, Shacko. Didn’t expect to see you here at this time of day. Have to make bits whenever possible, I guess.”
He was a bit more on the lax side, but he meant well. “Yup, I’m on the road to improvement! But forget about that. Rapid Season, have you been getting any business lately?”
“Nahhh. It’s a total bummer down here. I’ve been trying to tell everypony how fun fishing is, but no bite. Heh, no bite. Funny…”
“I’m still afraid I don’t understand the point yet. What exactly do you do?”
During his soon-to-be explanation, Rapid Season performed hoof gestures like a hoof puppet show. “To begin the art of catching a fish, you first find a spot that resonates with both you and the little fish dudes. Then you throw a line with bait into the water and wait for some resistance before reeling ‘er back in.”
“And what happens to the fish?” I asked, hoping they didn’t suffocate to death.
“Nothing. Release the little dude or dudette into the water and try again. You should come with me one time and experience it for yourself. It’s fuuunnn. But patience is key.”
“Sure, why not? Sounds like a good time!” I exclaimed, swinging a foreleg and further expressing my excitement.
“Rad,” Rapid Season said, strolling past me before continuing. “Want to go to the Heehaw Tavern for a bit?”
Heehaw Tavern. The other establishment my haunted house sat between. I was sure Banafrit had grown tired of waiting for me to show up. It must have been an hour since I last saw her. After all this time, she probably returned to the hotel to check on me, ensuring I didn’t return to get more shuteye.
Apologies, Banafrit. Hang in there for a while longer.
Inside Heehaw Tavern.
Upon entering through the loose wooden saloon doors, the scent of countless pleasant odors assaulted my nose. The inside had a drab atmosphere. The beige-painted walls had paper posters or torn-out pages from newspapers hung up. It was daytime, but even during the night hours, anything LED was so faint they barely produced life in their surroundings. Every four-legged stool had worn green and white vinyl cushions. Those seats, devoid of backrests, were strewn about in groups of two or more, encircling small round tables crafted from dark oak.
When I stepped inside, I immediately recognized the change in flooring from the concrete sidewalk to a green ribbed carpet.
On the far end to my right was a pool table with fifteen colorful balls scattered across a blue felt, which meant one billiard was missing. A comprehensive, dark brown table dominated the other far right corner, showcasing a collection of barrels arranged horizontally and neatly stacked on top of one another. Adorned with signs bearing flavor names, they each clutched a sign with a hazy silver faucet extending from it.
Besides me and Rapid Season, two additional ponies were already present, one working behind the counter and the other sitting down, resting their forelegs and head on the counter.
The mare, and I say this loosely, ‘working’ behind the counter, was the owner of this fine establishment. Her name was Beryl Roads. She had a blue mane and a red coat. Can’t forget about the small white ball earrings fastened closely to her ears and her dark red scarf embracing her neck. “Well, I’ll be… If it isn’t Rapid Season and Hollow Shack! I must say, I’m not used to seeing you without that white half-mask of yours, Shackie. Nor this early.”
“Heheh. I usually leave it at the haunted house. Why? You think I should wear it more often?” I asked, rubbing the back of my head and sitting two stools away from the sleeping brown stallion.
When I sat down that instant, a gust of air came from beneath me, the plastic aroma of the vinyl seat reaching my nose. Rapid Season joined me from one seat to the right.
“I’m not saying anything. Wear what you want to wear,” Beryl answered, then added. “If I were that judgemental about accessories, you’d think I support Rapid Season over here to wear that decrepit bucket hat of his?”
“Haaarsh, but true,” Rapid Season acknowledged, clunking a high hoof with the tavern mare.
Quite the friends they were. Witnessing ponies embracing their true nature or their being on the brink of self-discovery was phenomenal. There was nothing like it. I wanted my haunted house to shine like those very ponies. Bright enough to pollute the entire world with their light. It was a shame that I seemed to be the lone pony who thought this. Watching them clop hooves with no offense taken resurfaced that sentiment. “So, who’s your buddy you’re serving over here?”
“Erm…” the brown stallion groaned.
“Who, him? He’s been coming by at least once daily for the past week. Sometimes with no bits in tow,” Beryl Roads answered, spraying down the counter with wood cleaner, then rubbing it down with a barf green rag.
She saved our spots for last, and when she got to me, I lifted my forelegs. When she arrived at Rapid Season, however, he refused entry. Beryl tried her best, forcefully thrusting the rag into his knee and hoof, hoping it slipped underneath after a myriad of attempts. Like in an air hockey game, Rapid Season was the striker, while Beryl Roads was the puck aiming to slide into the goal swiftly. Beryl lost the game, scowling with a wrinkled chin and puckered lip, as Rapid Season gave a smug grin of a well-earned victory.
See what I mean?
“Haa… You boys want something to drink?”
Rapid Season and I shouted in unison, standing on our hind legs and leaning over the squeaky-clean counter. “Apple Cider!!”
Eager, we leaned too far on the freshly wiped counter’s surface. The slippery top beneath our hooves lost traction, resulting in us tumbling onto the table and landing on our chest and stomach.
“Huh…? Apple Cider? Where?” the brown stallion snorted and woke up, a darker brown mane rising and baggy eyes darting their surroundings.
Upon further observation, I recognized the fella. “Mud Swing? What brings you to Heehaw Tavern?”
“The prices for food and drinks are super cheap here. Can’t find another place like it,” Mud Swing answered, yawning halfway through.
After a few creaks of the hazy faucet, Beryl twitched. “Eh?! Are you telling me that’s the reason you’ve been visiting frequently? And here I thought you favored my cider or thought I was the most beautiful mare in all of Baltimare…”
With his mouth agape, Mud Swing held no expression while staring into the abyss of—something. Maybe? Hopefully, for his sake. He didn’t even blink.
While Beryl gave us our mugs filled with a dark orange liquid, she groaned and lazily supported the weight of her head on a hoof atop the counter.
Rapid Season took a glug of his fruitilicious drink, exhaling a breath of satisfaction immediately. “Aah… If it makes you feel any better, Beryl, Shacko and I think you have the best food place in Baltimare.”
“Thank you, Rapid Season… But what about my unspoken beauty?” Beryl asked again, using a hoof to flick and flaunt her blue mane.
“Err… Beauty? What’s that?”
Heehaw Tavern fell silent. I continued to audibly and awkwardly slurp my apple cider during the stillness. Beryl Road’s face contorted into one of frozen disbelief.
Then, suddenly, we heard another pony enter through the saloon doors. The pony wore a white blanket over their body as if it was still Nightmare Night. Two black dots drawn in marker ink acted as eyes near the face. Clearly, it was a ghost costume. Even though the craft should have been a simple task, it appeared to have been made by an amateur.
I continued to slurp up some apple cider.
“Hollow Shack!”
“PFF—!” My nose burned, the orange liquid gushing out my nostrils like a removed fire hydrant. I recognized the feminine voice barging in for me.
Beryl Roads hid a smirk behind a forehoof and left a comment. “Shackie, you didn’t tell us you had a marefriend.”
A change of temperature arose in my cheeks. “M-marefriend?! That’s not how it is!”
“You sure? A holler like that could only come from such.”
The white blanket-covered mare approached from behind me. “You’re so lucky I can’t drag you by your ear!”
Beryl made another unhelpful comment as she lifted an empty mug. “Why not? I’d do it. You go, mare!”
“Yeah, go!” Rapid Season joined in.
“Who’s side are you two on?!” I cried.
My two so-called BBBs—best business buddies—recited it together, forelegs up and down in the air through a repeated plumb motion. “Marefriend! Marefriend! Marefriend!”
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I could only groan. “Fine… Let’s go, Banafrit.”
“About time!”
I plodded out of Heehaw Tavern, exiting with the ‘mysterious’ blanket-covered figure, the daylight closing my eyes due to the sudden change in scenery. “My eyes!”
“Suck it up, Shackie!” “Suck it up, Hollow Shack!”
Inside Heehaw Tavern, behind the bar table.
After Hollow Shack left my tavern, I felt a tad peckish. But I still had two ponies sitting in front of me. This is a benefit of being an owner. It’s not like these bums were gonna pay, anyway.
“Hicc—!” Mud Swing hiccuped.
“Get out of my lodge, you two.”
“Aw, sure thing. I should get back to advertising some good ol’ fishin’.” Rapid Season left without a fight.
Now for the other oddball stallion. “I found some bits outside—”
“Stay for as long as you’d like, friend!”
Who do you take me for? As if I would pass down on an opportunity to earn some free dough.
Hollow Shack’s Haunted House of Apparitions.
Banafrit and I began discussing ways to keep the haunted house in business. We were on the first floor, in the first room you could enter. Upon entering the building, a counter was waiting for cash on the right, and a window with purple curtains. The counter had two objects resting on the surface: a red register and an origami paper stand stating the entry price.
From my perspective behind the bit-making station, I could glimpse every corner of the room. On the opposite end, another chair faced a circular backlit mirror with a light purple rim. Other than that, there was no artificial lighting in the dull space’s eeriness.
A wardrobe cabinet loaded with various mask designs hung in the far right corner near the backlit mirror. But I only needed one! I trotted over and opened the contents to grab the white mask hanging in the center.
It was more accurate to say half of a mask since it only covered half of my face. Interestingly enough, it exhibited a strained crack zigzagging perfectly down the middle. Well, maybe not perfectly. Some of it broke off the muzzle area. Even so, it was my signature mask. I slapped it on my face, returning the Pony of Apparitions to Baltimare. “The real Hollow Shack has arrived!”
I turned back, meandering by a tapestry of Nightmare Moon hanging above a wide bookshelf with different-shaped pony skulls, witch bottles with odd patterns and other things floating inside. After arriving by the tattered couch on the far right end of those creepy artifacts, I returned to my place behind the counter. The minor sunlight’s meager warmth breached through the slim curtain’s opening and reached my body’s left side.
How soothing.
I turned the chair toward the couch and locked eyes with the ghost pony patiently awaiting me.
“You done?” Banafrit asked, shooting me a distressed look.
“Yep, ready to focus. Focus is my middle name.”
Banafrit gestured a rub of her temples. “Uh-huh. Okay, what’s something we can improve upon? Besides focus, that is.”
“Hmm…” I meditated. No dice. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Customer experience, for starters. And as far as feasibility studies go… an economic study should do…”
“Do we have to?”
“I’m no businessmare, Hollow Shack, but we’re doing this to reduce risk. The risk of your business going down under. That’s all I care about.”
“I don’t want to depend entirely on you, but with an actual ghost, we won’t have to worry much about spending bits. Still, we should provide various means to make ponies quiver in fright.”
“I agree. But that might have to wait since that’ll mean coughing up some bits. Which… we have little of. You have a hidden stash or something?”
“Not exactly.” A mischievous grin made home on my face.
Banafrit took notice. “What’s that look?”
I rubbed my hooves together. “Huhuhu.”
Central District - Inner Harbor of Baltimare.
The haunted house behind us, Banafrit and I strolled toward the Central District, taking in the sights and sounds of the lively city. The architecture became increasingly elaborate and diverse in structure, materials, and intended use. But we ignored them and approached the outskirts of the Central District. As we neared one of the many harbors, the inner harbor of Horseshoe Bay, the restaurants became more fancy and costly.
Patrons of the hotels were treated to a magnificent view of the inner harbor and all its activities. There was an aquarium and furniture store, and across our side of the harbor, toward the Southern District, was an excellent wharf, science center, wellness spa, beach volleyball, art museum, dog park, more fancy restaurants, and a myriad of four to five-star hotels.
Banafrit and I had navigated through a crowd of college students to reach a restaurant perched at the peak of a sturdy pier—where wide stone piers interconnected with wooden bridge walks. Most of the establishments on them were related to seafood. The fancy harbor restaurant, which was the reason for our visit, was also included.
“Let me get this straight. Your secret stash of bits is at this posh restaurant that prides itself on ‘serving the finest underwater delicacies in all of Equestria’?” Banafrit asked, still camouflaged in her ghost costume.
“Sort of. Our purpose for coming here is to locate a special pony whose preferred diet consists solely of fresh marine greens. And I just so happen to know about his routine visit.”
“Mmm…”
Of course, the black-roofed restaurant featured an alfresco dining section, allowing customers to savor their meals while being treated to the backdrop of Horseshoe Bay. I trotted there, hooves clopping against the dull-colored brick ground while Banafrit followed suit. Woven patio chairs were scattered across the area, accompanied by tables and patio umbrellas to shield against the bright sun. There were lampposts, too, for when nighttime came around.
“Are they here, Hollow Shack?”
“Oh, I know he is.”
We strolled by any occupied tables, hoping not to disrupt anypony’s meal. However, Banafrit earned a few odd stares because of her Nightmare Night attire.
The scent of the luxurious meals filled the air excellently, tantalizing my senses. Then, to my surprise, my muzzle somehow found its way into a plate. The seated couple glared at me, and Banafrit shook her head.
“Oops, my apologies! Enjoy your meal you two lovelies!”
But further down, at the peak of the pier, sat a lone table secluded from the others.
Here in his alone time, only one pony found solace in savoring each bite of his meal.
“Shack, who is this guy?”
Rapid Season was how I learned about his regular visits to this place at this specific time of the week. With the back of a thatched seat facing us, I approached, the pungency of grilled salted sea greens becoming stronger. “Banafrit, he’s…”
The manatee grey-coated earth pony sat there with a plate of various plants, some resembling kelp, while others were utterly unknown to me. Because of age, his black mane, tail, mustache, and eyebrows were mainly greyed out. He sported a black tailcoat tuxedo with a pastel ivory undershirt and a dark scarlet batwing bow tie. His flank bore a grey-feathered bird taking flight, and he munched away with etiquette, enjoying the view of the sunbathed harbor while taking refuge under the shadow of a black patio umbrella.
With the finishing clops of my hooves against the pier, the stallion turned around and locked his pale brown eyes on us. “Hollow Shack…?”
He was…
“Mayor Baltimare.”
Author's Note
To start this author's notes off, I want to discuss the origin of Hollow Shack. When I was writing some SOL moments for another fimfic, that's when I had the sudden thought to create Hollow Shack. I liked the concept of him so much that I wrote him a one-shot spin-off known as Baltimare's Haunted House of "Apparitions" for Halloween—the prequel to this fanfic. At first, I wasn't going to write him his own series, but here I am. I'm giving it a shot. With that in mind, this fic isn't a high priority, so uploads may be... weird, idk.
So yeah, this fic is a full-on spin-off of The Markless Wonderer: Origin
Anyways, I wanted this chapter to show off the city of Baltimare and some civilians. Back when MLP: FIM aired, it bothered me that we didn't step away from the main cast and see the lives of other ponies from other cities. That wasn't going to happen. And no spin-off series with the same animation/universe was going to come, sadly... I'll try to incorporate that feeling into this.
I also decided to split this chapter into two parts because of how long it was getting. I like writing SOL but wonder if I go too far with it. Well I hope to see you in the next part; an interesting conversation will take place.
