A dark and empty open aired amphitheater sits in eerie silence. The black and cold of the seemingly vacant seats oppresses even the insects that scuttle to and fro from the rows, searching for shelter and food. Clouds, finally giving way to the wind, reveal the majesty of the full moon, edging the darkened structure with silver linings. Its gothic beauty now in full force, the time has come.

With expert timing, just as the silver light of the moon gently touched every surface finally, the stage light came to life. Bathing in the bright illumination, taking center stage, was a strange bipedal being. Mostly unassuming, he was roughly six feet tall, wearing dark grey jeans, a light grey hoodie, and had wild, light brown hair. His more unusual qualities, however, shone through the bland of the grey clothing. Sharp, cloven hands, bound in bandages and barbed wire, and to take full effect of danger, a half skull mask adorned his face, with a lengthy, rusty nail poking out from the forehead. In a crowd or in darkness, no one would really pay much attention to such a being. But here, in the empty theater, singled out by the stage light, it was all but impossible to ignore. He raised his hand, and coughed gently.

Good evening, my friends. My name is Wrath B. Forgivnez. I will be your host tonight on this little excursion. What would that be, you may ask? It's very simple. With the upcoming season of harvest, we get ready to celebrate a time of year dedicated to the macabre. To the spirits of the dead and damned. To our fears. You folks, as late as you might be, may already know what I'm referring too, so I won't go into too much detail. Instead, I'll tell you why you and I are here.

You are here for one purpose, and one purpose only. A story. Simple enough, no? But the season, and your anticipation, demands a certain kind of story. One of horror and darkness. Of taboo, and the lost. One of tears. I just so happen to know the perfect story for you. Which is why I'm here.

Tonight, I'll be telling you the tale of three little girls, who tried to help a dear old Grandmother. Three little girls that break a rule their guardians set to do so. Worse, three little girls that did not know that it's a very, deadly idea to dig up the past. It's a tale I like to call:

NIGHT OF THE LOVING DEAD

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On a wonderful spring afternoon, the day began to wind down in the little town of Ponyville. Shops ushered the last of their customers out the doors, citizens began to end their daily activities, and the school's bell rang proudly, signaling its closure for the day. From the school, a rambunctious swarm of little fillies and colts dispersed from the front door, starting their treks home for the evening. A trio of fillies followed behind, chatting up a storm about the upcoming Hearts and Hooves holiday arriving this weekend. Plans of handing out cards to friends and families. An innocent and loving past-time they plan on keeping simple this year, lest a repeat of last year, or worse, happens.

It didn't take long for one to realize the day was getting late, however. The young earth pony named Apple Bloom separated from her school friends with friendly good-byes and raced down the beaten path out of the harmonious town. Dust kicked up as her little yellow form moved quickly to respond to deep seated determination. A welcoming warm breeze of the approaching evening ran through her crimson hair and deep pink bow in her gallop. Trees with budding leaves and flowers passed her by as she approached her destination.

Sweet Apple Acres. Home of the honest and hard working Apple family, and one of the founders of Ponyville. Home also to the little filly that charged through the front gate, passing her orange older sister Applejack, and the crimson older brother Macintosh. With a few quick hellos, the rambunctious child ran through the front door and entered the rustic and humble wood house she called home.

"Granny!" the little filly called out with a smile, "Ah'm home! Where are ya?"

"I'm in here, Apple Bloom," a weathered voice responded from the nearby living room, "and pipe down! There ain't no need to yell in the house. 'Sides, Ah ain't THAT deaf... yet."

"Sorry Granny," she uttered before wandering into the homely little parlor. There, upon the little lavender couch sat the aged mare named Granny Smith Apple. Between her lime green hooves sat an old album filled with memories of the past. Her amber eyes gently gazed over the book, with a small knowing smile grew as each picture sparked thoughts of days long since gone. She turned her head slightly and looked upon the young filly.

"Well, don't just stand there, young'n," she chuckled, gently tapping the seat beside her, "Come and join your ol' Gran'ma."

Apple Bloom giggled with childish abandon as she raced to her rightful spot. This is what the little filly was waiting for. Every Friday, after school, Granny Smith would tell her a story about her past. Sometimes a story filled with adventure. Sometimes a story about the simpler life of Ponyville many years ago. No matter the tale, Apple Bloom was captivated, and never missed a week. All she needed now was to ask the right question to get her grandmother to start her story. Apple Bloom's own amber eyes gazed down at the opened album, and spied a photo of interest.

"Granny," spoke the inquisitive young lady, "who's that?"

"Who?" Granny asked, following the little yellow hoof pointing to the photo in question, "Oh that's-" She suddenly stopped after getting a good look and remembering such a face. Colors were moot in a black and white photo, but she could remember them like it was yesterday. Short, dark mane, deep golden eyes, and a light orange coat to match. Apple Bloom wondered why her grandmother stopped, and looked upon her wise face. Granny was smiling, but it wasn't one of joy, or a wonderful memory of adventure or simplicity.

"What's wrong, Granny?" the filly asked.

"Oh, i-it's nothing, young'n. Just forgot somethin' for a second there." She smiled again reassuringly. "Now, this is a photo of a very old friend o' mine."

"How old?"

"About as old as ah am! His name was Jack Lanturn. Once upon a time, after we settled Ponyville, a whole slough of new farmers came to live in the area and grow their own fruits and veggies. The Lanturns were one such clan. Heh, 's kinda funny actually. The Lanturns themselves were smiths and oil workers. But their son took an interest in farmin', and got real good at growin' pumpkins. Big ones, small ones, some shaped like a box, you name it."

"Like the ones we carve for Nightmare Night?"

"Oh, Jack's pumpkin's have 'em beat, that's for darn tootin'. Anyway, the Lanturns came to Ponyville because Jack was so good. They wanted to nurture his talent, like we nurture tree saplin's. And did he EVER take root! He actually started to get famous around here. Gave us Apples a run for our money, ah tell ya. But, it was all good. He became a friend o' mine after a little hagglin' war we had over some fertilizer. Whoo, could that stallion ever haggle. Mah folks never really liked that ah was gettin' so close to a rival farmer, and the Lanturns were, frankly, just as hard-headed. Me and Jack though? We didn't care too much about what everypony was sayin'. We'd frequently sneak out to spend time together, watching the stars, skippin' rocks..."

Granny Smith trailed off gently, reminiscing in the good times with Jack. Apple Bloom craned her neck to get a better look at the album, and noticed another couple photos. One of them was Granny Smith, when she was much younger, standing beside what she perceived to be Jack, still as young as the first photo Granny had. And in the next photo...

"Granny?" She asked, cautiously, "What're you wearin'?"

The elder stopped rambling quietly about the time she spent with her friend and noticed the photo that her grandchild was asking about. She hesitated for a moment, but with a sad sigh, Granny Smith decided to answer her. "That was mah funeral showd, Apple Bloom."

Apple Bloom's eyes went wide in shock and a dreadful sense of curiosity. "Why were ya wearin' a shroud?"

Granny Smith sighed once again. "One day, about a couple months before Nightmare Night, Jack was given a large order of pumpkins. Some rich folk found out he grew some of the finest in Equestria, and wanted a whole lot of 'em. O' course, Jack took up the offer. You'd be a fool not to take it. Though, ah kinda wish he'da been that fool. Jack was able to grow them just barely in time, and had to rush them up to Canterlot, where that rich pony would buy them off of him. However..." She bit her lip gently, eyes watering at the sides, but swallowed the welling sorrow. "... a week after he left, they found his cart full of pumpkins in the middle of the road, tipped over. And they found Jack... beneath it."

Silence cemented in the room. Apple Bloom was too dumbfounded to comment or ask any further questions, while the elder apple fought to keep her tears in check. With a slightly aching heart, Granny Smith continued the story, "They said that one of his wheels got stuck, and he was tryin' to unstick it himself. Though, he weren't a good replacement for a jack, 'specially with all those pumpkins in the cart. Seems the wheel snapped under the pressure, and then..."

"Ah'm so sorry," Apple Bloom uttered quietly, feeling helpless to her Grandmother's tragic chapter in her life.

Keeping her emotions under control, Granny Smith sighed gently. "It's alright, Applebloom. That was many years ago. I know in my heart he's in the great pasture in the sky, having a grand ol' time. We'll see each other again one day." With a reassuring smile and a twinkle in her eye, she closed the book. "Anywhoo," she started again, "Ah guess that's all for reminiscin' about my past. Sorry it wasn't very happy, little darlin'. Ah promise the next one will be extra fun to hear, 'kay?"

Apple Bloom nodded as the aged mare rose from her seat and made her way out of the livingroom, leaving behind the young filly with her thoughts. She couldn't help but recall the sad look in her eye. She couldn't help but assume that, perhaps, Jack was more than just a friend. That maybe her dear ol' granny must feel so lonely without anypony like Jack by her side. Thinking about it further, as long as she knew Granny, she was always on her own.

"Poor Granny," Apple Bloom uttered. With the belief that her grandmother must be so lonely, she hopped off the couch and exited the parlor. Heading up the stairs and into her humble little room, she made a move for her personal bookshelf. It wasn't filled with anything major, but her interactions with Zecora had her curious about potions and ailments. As such, whenever she didn't have homework, or wasn't reading the latest Daring Do novel, she'd always look through one of the few potion books she had. One special book in particular. One she needed to use to help her dear ol' grandma...

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Saturday, one day before Hearts and Hooves day, had cast a warm glow of the evening. Two fillies stood upon the wooden structure, waiting as the minutes ticked on. The orange filly pegasus with a purple mane named Scootaloo leaned forward against the small river bridge's railing. With a sigh, she turned towards her light grey coated unicorn friend with the light greyish mulburry and rose streaked mane.

"Do you know when Apple Bloom said she'd meet us, Sweetie Belle?" Scootaloo said.

The little unicorn filly shook her head gently. "No. She just said to meet here on the bridge before sunset. Said it was a Crusader emergency."

"If it's a new plan to get our cutie marks, I'm all ears, that's for sure," Scootaloo responded with a smirk.

The two girls waited in relative silence. As the time continued to pass on, the orange pegasus began to take up stream watching. Her eyes locked on the river that flowed underneath the bridge they were on, and wound its way around the edge of town, disappearing into the Everfree.

"Hey girls!" a voice called out to them.

Sweetie and Scootaloo turned their attention to the approaching Apple Bloom, whom had a small bag slung across her back. With a quickened pace, she soon joined her friends and fellow Crusaders.

"Jeez, what took you so long?" Scootaloo quipped, impatient as always.

"Just had t' finish somethin' before gittin' here."

"What was it that you needed to do? You know we could have helped you." Sweetie Bell added.

"Nah, a know the formula. It just takes a bit of time make."

Scootaloo raised her eyebrow at the statement, "Just what exactly were you making, Apple Bloom?"

The little filly in question let her face tighten into a slightly more worried and urgent tone. "I'll tell you, but first, ah need yer help."

"Of course!" Sweetie Bell answered without hesitation, "Crusaders don't let each other down, after all."

"Yeah!" Scootaloo added, "Especially if it involves getting our Cutie Marks. So, what's up?"

"Well," Apple Bloom started, "It's about Granny."

"Oh, is she doing alright?" Sweetie Bell interjected.

"Ah guess, but..." Apple Bloom paused for a moment, before continuing, "You know how she always tells me a story every Friday, right?" Her friends nodded expectantly. "Well, she told me about a friend o' hers that... well... died."

Sweetie frowned at the prospect, but Scootaloo scoffed, "Well, duh. I mean isn't she, like, a hundred years old or something? Ponies kinda die when they get too old." Sweetie Bell, baffled at the frankness, stared at her orange friend. "What? What I say?"

"You don't understand, Scootaloo. Jack died when Granny was still young."

"Oh..." Scootaloo blushed at the realization of the implications of untimely death, and untimely commenting. "Wait. Wait a minute," she started, quickly loosing her embarrassment of misstep, "Who cares? It happened so many years ago. I'm sure Granny Smith got over it by now. I mean, she seemed fine the last bazillion times I saw her." Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement, albeit hesitantly.

"Ah care!" Apple Bloom yelled, stamping her hoof, "Ah didn't realize how lonely Granny must be until Ah heard the story. You shoulda seen the look in her eyes, Scoots. It broke mah heart..."

Scootaloo, once again, felt defeated towards Apple Bloom's sound conviction and development to the issue.

"So, what are we gonna do?" asked Sweetie Belle.

"Well," the young earth pony started, while putting down her small bag, "Ah think Ah've figured out a way to help Granny out of her deep blue funk. All Granny needs... is a good friend. Somepony to care for her, and not make 'er feel so lonely no more."

"Well, we can't just go to the local old ponies home and pick someone out..." Scootaloo snarked.

"Actually, ah think we should. Old ponies are the only ones that could probably help her proper."

"Are you crazy? Those ponies tend to be more stubborn than mules! There's no way they'd willingly help us."

"Which is why ah made this." Apple Bloom unlaced the bag she carried, and pulled out a small, clear bottle filled with pink glowing stuff.

"Oh no," Sweetie Belle said in abject despair, "That's not-"

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Scootaloo yelled, "Do you know how much trouble we got into using that the LAST TIME?"

"Don't worry, guys. Ah changed the formula some, so it isn't as powerful, or as demandin'. I even tested it on a frog to make sure."

"Ponies aren't FROGS!" Scootaloo moved up towards Apple Bloom, and put both of her forehoves on her friends shoulders. "Listen to me, Bloom. You have to get rid of that potion."

"But-"

"We got in WAY too much trouble last time we used it, and no amount of tampering with how it's made will EVER let me forget that." She could see the disappointment in Apple Blooms eyes, and it hurt to see her friend seem so down trodden. She cared deeply for Granny Smith, and Scootaloo knew it. With a sigh, she continued, "We'll help you help Granny Smith, ok? But you have to get rid of... that."

Apple Bloom chewed her lip. She worked hard to get it right, staying up way passed her bedtime to read the book, gather supplies (in town), searching Everfree in the morning for the rest of the ingredients, and altering it until it was just perfect. This was the equivalent of being told to throw out an essay for school that she worked hard in writing, and told by her sister that she needed to get rid of it and start all over again. Honestly, though, that happened more often than not for little Apple Bloom. With a sigh, she picked up the bottle.

"Ya'll promise you'll help me?" She asked her friends.

"Crusaders never let each other down... and neither do friends. Right?" Sweetie Bell answered. Scootaloo nodded in agreement.

With that said, Apple Bloom brought the bottle upon the railing, uncorked it, and began dumping it over the side into the stream. Watching the pink formula enter the stream and dilute in the water was dispiriting, but if her friends were willing to help her, the loss of Plan A is acceptable. At least nothing major can go wrong now. At least, that's what Apple Bloom believed.

"Come on!" said Scootaloo, "Let's get some crusading done before the day ends!" Her friends cheered as they raced off the bridge and into town.

Down the stream, around the edge of Ponyville, and into the Everfree, the pink potion traveled the currents. Lost without its maker and its home, the pink formula was carried to a new home and purpose. Through the darkened forest, passing the great wild, it made its way through a small stream passing through an abandoned little cemetery. As if fate were pulling the strings, the pink fluids seeped into the soil of the grave yard. The untamed magic of the Everfree soil enhanced the potion's strength and changed its properties. Before long, the ground began to crack, with pink light shining through the openings, traveling from grave to grave. One such grave, one whom had love lost, soaked in the unnatural and invading magics. Deep under ground, in the coffin of a mangled and crushed pony, a miracle happened as the pink essence corrupted the dead pony's resting place. With a sudden vigor, the coffin shot up through the ground, erected before the gravestone. As things began to settle, the grave box opened slowly, as pink, burning eyes peered out of the darkness.

"Granny... My love."

Author's Note

A strange beginning to a strange tale. I hope you enjoy it thus far. I've got a two more chapters to tell. Stay tuned!