“From underneath the mattress came, a voice that sounded injured, lame.” Applejack’s voice changed to a deep, gravelly pitch. “Come hither, foals, and help me free. I’m trapped beneath your bed, you see. Come down here and we can play, all through the night, and through the day.”
Her voice went back to normal. “But all the foals had heard the tales, Of Mr. Mean with teeth like nails. He’d knock and bang on door and wall, then from a dark space he would call. He’d ask those there to come and play, all though the night, and through the day. He’d whisper, mutter, cough and speak, he’d sound so tired, sound so weak. But if the foals would go and look, he’d grab them then, with hoof and hook.”
Applejack made her voice higher-pitched. “A foal cried out, ‘What can we do?’ He’ll grab us, eat us, through and through!”
“’Don’t be afraid!’ one foal cried out. ‘Remember how to drive the lout, back to his nasty, dismal home, where he can only live alone. Just clap your hooves and laugh a lot, and do it loud, that hits the spot!”
Applejack’s voice went back to normal. “And so they laugh and clapped and cheered, until old Mr. Mean was speared right through his nasty, blackened heart, with happiness, and fell apart. He went back through the dark and gloam, until he reached his darkened home. He can’t come back, not for a while, as long as he sees foals that smile.”
Applejack closed the book and looked over at the three foals tucked into bed. Applebloom was staring wide-eyed. Sweetie Belle looked confused, and Scootaloo looked scared.
“What kind of story is that?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Well, it’s a spooky story with a good message about how to not be afraid of the dark,” Applejack answered.
“Rarity would kill me if I started clapping and laughing late at night!” she squeaked.
“Ah’m just glad ah remember that from when ah was younger,” Applebloom said. “Didn’t get any better over the years. Ah mean, Mr. Mean? With nails fer teeth and hooks on his hooves? Who puts that in a foal’s book?”
“Somepony who hates foals I bet,” Scootaloo said with a shudder. “Now I’m really gonna be scared of the dark.
“And now you know how to get rid of them fears, don’tcha?” Applejack said proudly. “This book’s based on an old Apple family tale, so you know it’s good!”
“Yeah, sure,” Scootaloo said with a shudder.
“At any rate, you three get some sleep, okay?” Applejack walked out the door and took one last look back in.
“Night, Applejack,” Applebloom said. She was already out of the covers and bouncing on the bed.
“Night,” The other two foals said. Applejack turned out the light and shut the door. Immediately she heard the sound of hooves clapping, immediately followed by laughter from Applebloom and Sweetie Belle.
She nodded and walked over to her own room and dropped her hat on the hat rack nearby. She stretched, undid her mane and tail from their ribbons, and flopped face-first into bed.
“Those foals sure do love stayin’ up late. Can’t blame ‘em, really. Ah used to love it too, when ah didn’t have all this work to do. But ah sure am beat.” She curled up under the covers and blinked. She realized she hadn’t turned her own light out. “Ah, blast.” She dragged herself out of bed, flopping to the floor with all four hooves, then scraped over to the lightswitch, flipped it, then dragged herself back.
When she was in bed she pulled herself under the covers and just barely poked her head out. She sighed comfortably and waited for sleep to come.
A sound yanked her from sleep. She opened her eyes and could see only a little moonlight filtering in the window. Her ears swiveled as she tried to figure out what had woken her up. No sound greeted her. She closed her eyes again, waiting for sleep to come.
A knocking sound came, waking her up again.
“Hey! You kids quit it! I know it was scary, but you need to stop it!”
She got no answer.
A deep, gravelly voice came from the closet. “It’s not the foals I’ve come here for. They’re small and weak, and such a bore.”
Applejack sat up straight. Her eyes flew to the closet to see it cracked open just a hair. Within; darkness. Black darkness. She pulled the covers up to her chin and stared.
“You know my name, it’s clear and clean. You know the name of Mr. Mean.”
“Ah don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You ain’t real. Ah’m dreamin’,” Applejack mumbled into the blanket, her eyes still locked on the closet. A shape squeezed itself into the space between the closet doors. A glittering smile slowly grew, opening sideways in the closet’s space. Applejack couldn’t tell from here, but she knew they were nails. She slowly started clapping her hooves together.
“You know the rules, you know the game. But can your friends all say the same? There’s six of you, and many doors, who’ll hear me next knock on their floors?” The glittering teeth disappeared form the closet as Applejack chuckled awkwardly. As it disappeared in dark smoke she heard him laugh.
“They’ll know my name, it’s clear and clean. They’ll know the name of Mr. Mean!”