“...And then, in the morning, all they found was her tail! It was like somepony or something crudely cut it off with razor sharp claws!” Marigold jumped onto the table and hoisted both of her forelegs in the air, swishing her blonde tail and the pink lace ribbon on it to and fro. She gave a laughable imitation of a growl.
I picked up my glass of apple cider, took a swig, then looked around the lodge’s dim mess hall. Everypony silently had their eyes on Marigold, who slowly lowered herself in front of me and stopped when her face was directly in front of mine.
“And that,” she said, “is why if you hear a series of three thumps—” She pounded a hind leg against the table. “—then two thumps, then three thumps, then two, and so on in the middle of the night, no matter what you do...” Her mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “Do. Not. Open. Your. Door.”
She clumsily scrambled off the table, unfazed by the stares of the rest of the room. “Such is the tale of the Blooperschnarden.”
“The Booger Sardine?” I asked inattentively, taking another swig from my glass.
“The Blooperschnarden!”
I put my glass down and lifted a fork for my carrots, then pointed at the untouched bowl of celery soup in front of her. “That’s... uh, great. By the way, your soup’s getting cold.”
We ate the rest of our dinner to the sound of clinking plates and hushed murmurs.
“I’m telling you,” said Marigold as we walked down the hall to the living quarters, poorly lit by a few candles. “If the Blooperscharden comes a-knockin’, then—”
“ ‘—Then my door I’d better be blockin’.’ Yes, yes, Marigold, you’ve told me this no less than ten times in the last two hours.” We stopped in front of my room.
Marigold smiled again as I opened the door. “It’s true, you know.” She started to lean closer to me. “I know a pony who knows a pony who knows a pony who used to know a pony that the Blooperschnarden took. It was on a blizzardy night, just like this one, in a ski lodge, just like this one. She heard the thumping, went to check her door, and in the morning, her tail was all they found of her.” Marigold was now close enough for me to smell the soup on her breath.
I remained unethused. “And if she vanished, how do you, or anypony for that matter, know this?”
Marigold chuckled whimsically, then slowly brushed her tail across my chin. “I have my sources.”
“The same sources that told you about the invisible sphinx under everypony’s beds, the evil pony in the mirror, or the monkey made of fire that would appear if you called its name? What was it again, the Pyro—”
She stuffed a hoof in my mouth. “Shush!” she loudly whispered. She looked around, as if something were watching us. “It’ll hear you!”
I rolled my eyes, took her hoof out of my mouth, and pat her on the head. “Of course it will.”
She continued down the hall to her own room as she looked over her shoulder and said, “Now remember, the carriage comes at noon sharp. If you’re not there, I’m leaving without you. Good night.” She vanished into her own room.
“Good night, Marigold.”
The blizzard outside continued to roar relentlessly at three in the morning. The window shook against the wind, and it sounded as if it would pop out of its frame at any moment. I held my pillow over my head, but the noise still kept me from sleeping. I tossed and turned. To my chagrin, there was nothing I could do about the blizzard, the shaking, the thumping...
My ears perked up, and I shot up in bed, eyes wide. I looked at the window, which shook vigorously. Just the window, I told myself, and lay back down. The window rattled with no discernible pattern, and I silently scolded myself for thinking for even a moment that Marigold’s silly imagination would get to me. I listened to the turbulent sound of the window, softly thumping against the floor outside...
That wasn’t the window. I scurried out of bed, then pushed an ear against the door. Thump, thump, thump. Three thumps. Thump, thump. Two more.
“Marigold? Is that you?” I shouted.
Thump, thump, thump. Coming from the hall entrance, it sounded like a large pony with a misshapen walker. Thump, thump. It drew closer to my door.
“Who’s there? If that’s you, Mar, go to sleep already!”
More thumping.
It shouldn’t have bothered me that much. It wasn’t the first time she told me incredible stories, and none of them ever came to realization. No more of this, I thought. I would open my door to see Marigold stomping about on the hall outside.
Still more thumping.
I put a hoof on the doorknob and said, “Alright, Marigold. It’s time to—”
A low, wet and guttural growl came from outside.
Thump, thump, thump. Marigold’s words came to mind: If the Blooperschnarden comes a-knockin’, then your door you’d better be blockin’.
My hoof limply slid off the knob, and I backed away from the door.
Thump, thump. Whatever it was, it immediately outside.
“Mar-Marigold?”
Another growl.
I shoved a nearby dresser in front of the door and pushed my back against it with all my might. My blood surged through my veins as my heart thumped loudly in my chest.
A series of knocks came at the door.
“Get... get back!” I screamed.
The thing outside continued to knock.
“No! Stop!”
The knocking came erratically, as if something were being blown against my door by the wind.
“Marigold, this isn’t funny anymore!” I whimpered. “Stop it!”
The knocking ceased immediately, and the thing thumped away from the door. I held the dresser against the door to the sound of the roaring blizzard and rattling window until the sun came up, standing in a shallow puddle of my own sweat.
“Sleep well last night, sir?” asked the bellpony as he loaded my things into the carriage.
“No. No, I did not,” I replied. “But, uh... thanks for asking.” I tipped him a bit. I looked around for Marigold, but saw no sign of her. Her room was empty, and her things were gone. She must have taken the noon carriage home. I, deprived of sleep from last night’s events, fell asleep soon after the sun rose and was now forced to take the carriage at three o’clock.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and he turned around to leave.
“Wait!”
He stopped.
“Did you see an earth pony come by? Her name’s Marigold, and she has blonde hair and a ribbon on her tail.”
He did not turn back around. “If you mean the lady you were with last night, then no, sir.”
“And by any chance, does the name ‘Blooperschnarden’ mean anything to you?”
“If you’re referring to the tale your friend told in the hall last night, yes. Aside from that, no, I’m afraid it doesn’t, sir.”
“Oh. Well, thank you anyways.”
He left without another word.
I boarded the carriage and thought about the stern scolding I would give Marigold once I returned home.
The carriage pullers began their journey through the woods and fresh snow. I looked out a window, and to take my mind off Marigold’s silly game, I decided to admire the view.
And I saw, tied to a tree branch in the distance, a crudely cut tuft of blonde hair bound by a lacy pink ribbon.
