The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
For all their rainbow of hair and coat colors and their unique cutie marks, it turned out to be harder to find a particular pony than I’d imagined it would be, especially in such a small town. I’d occasionally spot a pony at a distance who looked like him, but every time it turned out to either be a false alarm, or they were gone before I got over there. He didn’t seem to be a regular at the market—at least, I never saw him there.
There was surely a reasonable explanation. He could be on vacation, or else he worked different hours than I did. Maybe his wife did all the shopping. Maybe he was a travelling salesmen. Maybe he stayed home all day and worked on his garden or put ships in bottles.
Or maybe I’d not only imagined the ghost, but I’d imagined him, too. That was an idea I didn’t want to dwell on at all. Imagining a ghost was enough of a mind-bend for me to process; if I was imagining flesh-and-blood ponies too, I was far gone.
If that was the case, what would come next? How soon could I expect the nice ponies with butterfly nets? Were they already on their way? Were they in a nearby house, watching me from their own box-forts?
•••••
When I did find him, he was at the restaurant, eating breakfast. I didn’t even bother with pretext; I just sat down across from him, and as soon as he looked up from his pancake, I told him everything.
Other ponies might have overheard. That wasn’t even a consideration—I was so relieved that he was actually real that I started talking with no care of who might eavesdrop. Even though it was still in the back of my mind that I was sitting at an empty table, talking to an empty chair.
For as open as ponies generally were with their emotions, he had very little reaction as I told my tale. He just sat there, absorbing everything or maybe wondering if he could signal the waitress to summon nurses to take me away.
I can only imagine that the entire thing was a barely coherent explanation of what I’d seen and what I thought I’d seen and what I’d done and what I might have imagined. In my head, it probably made sense, but in hindsight it would have been wise to have practiced getting my thoughts and observations in a sensible order rather than just vomiting them out willy-nilly.
And yet, I must have gotten my point across, because after I described how I’d sneaked up behind her in the kitchen and scared her off and she hadn’t come back since then, without a single flicker of emotion, he reached across the table and punched me in the face.
In a movie, I might have indignantly asked what that was for, but I didn’t have to; I knew exactly what that was for, and I had it coming.
Every eye in the room was on us as I picked up my napkin and pressed it gingerly against my nose. It was probably broken, although I wasn’t entirely sure; I’d never had a broken nose before so I didn’t know what one felt like. It was certainly bleeding a lot.
The entire restaurant was silent. I’d never noticed before how creepy it was to have so many eyes looking at me and I wondered what I should say, if anything. Should I apologize? No, he was the one who hit me. Should I reassure all the ponies that things were okay, that there wasn’t going to be a fight? Did ponies even have bar fights?
A smart person surely would have fought back or fled the restaurant in shame, but I didn’t. The two of us just sat there until the other ponies started to look away. Maybe they didn’t want to get involved or maybe they had figured out that the situation was under control and was none of their business anyway. Maybe one of them was going out the back entrance to get the police.
I was wondering if it was possible to bleed to death through my nose when he reached for my face again. I cringed back as much as I could while remaining in my chair, but this time he meant no harm. He touched his hoof lightly to the bloody napkin, and I went cross-eyed focusing on it—this was the closest I’d ever seen a pony hoof and even though the pain, I couldn’t help but notice the gleaming edge of his shoe, the small ridges and chips in the wall of his hoof, and the neatly groomed hair of his leg.
I was about to warn him about the dangers of blood-borne pathogens, until I felt a tingling warmth on my face. The bleeding slowed to a trickle, then a few drips, and then it stopped.
I suspected my nose was still broken, though. Either his hoof’s touch didn’t extend that far, or he didn’t feel I deserved such mercy.
He reached down and dropped a few bits on the table. “Come with me.”
I could have refused, but I didn’t.
•••••
He lived in a small house on the southern side of Haywards Heath, a tidy little house set just a bit away from his neighbors. He offered me a chair—too short for a human, but I took it anyway—and got me a clean towel to finish getting the rest of the blood off my face.
I hardly noticed the house at all; my eye was drawn to a black and white photograph on the table. There were two ponies in that picture; one was obviously him, and the other was almost certainly my ghost.
“Who was she?” I asked softly.
“My grand-niece,” he said. “Her name is Windflower.” He shifted around on his hooves and sighed. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I really couldn’t blame him, so he had no reason to be sorry. Maybe I was just being silly from head trauma, but I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought about punching myself in the face as a way to knock some sense into me. It was surprisingly effective—things felt a lot clearer than they had.
“She was out in the woods . . . shouldn’t have been, not by herself, but it was a nice summer day. When she didn’t come home for dinner, ponies started looking, but it was too late.
“Her parents were completely devastated, and left town as quickly as they could.”
He fell silent again, and I considered what he’d just told me. It left a lot of questions, but I wasn’t sure I should ask them. I was confident that there would be time for that later.
“I’m sorry that I scared her off. I didn’t mean to.”
“We all do things that we regret later,” he said softly. “Or don’t do something that we should have.”
“How can I convince her to come back?”
He closed his eyes and for a minutes, went away. There was no other way to describe it. He was there, he was still in the living room, but he wasn’t. I could have gotten out of my chair, made myself a cup of tea, and come back, and I don’t think he would have noticed at all.
I could imagine what he was thinking. Was I just some collector of exotic butterflies, aiming to lure one more into my collection, or was I truly contrite, without any other motive than correcting my error? There was every chance that when he came back, he’d kick me out of the house, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. I couldn’t even imagine what I’d have done if the situation was reversed.
“Valerian and yarrow. Those are her favorite flowers.”
“It’s not the right season for flowers. Any day now, it might start snowing.”
“We haven’t even run the leaves yet. There will be hothouse flowers. If they’re kept in pots, and kept warm in the house during the day, they’ll do okay outside,” he told me. “Teazle grows both.”
“Does she—Windflower—visit here?” Maybe his house had been where she’d gone after leaving mine. Maybe she’d told him all about me scaring her off. If so, I’d been lucky to leave the restaurant with just a broken nose.
He shook his head.
“But you’ve seen her.”
Rather than answer, he beckoned with a hoof. “Come here.”
I followed him back to a small bedroom. The bed was filly-sized, made up for a pony who would never use it again. “I don’t know if this will help, but she’ll recognize this blanket. If she’s still got some of her toys, this might also provide her with a little comfort.”
•••••
I spent the afternoon buying and arranging flowers. Two cartloads of them. Milfoil watched over the fence at what I was doing, but I paid her no mind. I put a row of new flowers around the garden, then walked around the perimeter of the yard taking a look at it. It really did brighten up the yard, although I wasn’t looking forward to having to carry the pots in every night. Nor did I have a place to put them inside yet, but that didn’t matter; I didn’t use my living room for anything much; I could move things around and fit them in there.
I thought about what I’d tell Milfoil—I figured that I owed her an explanation, although it was tempting to tell her nothing.
“It looks nice,” she said, practically right in my ear. I hadn’t expected her to just walk over into my yard.
“Thanks.” I scooted another pot into place.
“What happened to your nose?”
That was sure to be the subject of town gossip any time now, but apparently word hadn’t gotten around yet. “I walked into a lamp post.”
“It looks painful.”
“Not as much as you’d think.” As long as I didn’t touch it or breathe too much, I hardly noticed.
“It’s a little late in the year for flowers outside, you know.”
I nodded. “I thought I could keep them inside some of the time, to let them warm up. It’ll make the inside of the house look nicer, too.”
“Your house will be crowded with flowers.”
“I don’t mind.” I stood up and brushed off my knees. “It’ll make it less gloomy, and I’ll plant them properly in the springtime.”
Well, at least we know who she is now.
Yup, you honestly had that coming buddy. sure, if it had been some grey old haunt who could take a joke, but a filly who wasn't even properly Awake? You ought to have known better.
You deserved that punch.
A good solid punch does one wonders. haha
Those damn lamp posts...
vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/animal-jam-clans-1/images/d/d0/I_want_to_punch_you_in_the_face_so_bad_right_now_.gif
Scaring that sweet little angel away is almost as bad of a crime as doing something bad to ralsei. That punch was completely necessary
At least we know who Boo is now.
But what happens if the reason she kept coming back, was to grow those flowers to give to her mother because they were her favourites?
Well, that explains the old stallion's interest.
So, are there particular societal customs in ponyland regarding ghosts? In other words, is creepy old pony a douchenozzle for giving our protagonist overly vague overtures of help as opposed to real assistance, or is he a douchenozzle for hurting our protagonist when our protagonist reacted appropriately regarding a complete lack of warning or information regarding his new undead roommate? Because, right now, it sounds like douchenozzle was in a position to help, didn't through either negligence or willful disinformation, and then punished our human for it.
9341644
That's like saying that Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie deserve to be punched in the face for pulling a minor prank.
Sure, he'll take it because it alleviates his own guilt, but I'd like to think we have standards of behaviour and reactions. Besides, the stallion said nothing to him beforehand, why should he then be upset with what happened when he apparently washed his hooves of it?
9341772
Well, to be fair, the protagonist's prank might have been minor and relatively harmless, but the effects were anything but. The protagonist already knew Windflower was skittish, so sneaking up on her in the dead of night and pranking her should've been at the top of his Do Not Do list. It's as they say, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
As for the stallion that punched him, look at it from his point of view. He's no doubt been longing to see his grandniece again for years and because of a childish prank, he may have lost that chance. I'm not saying punching the protagonist was the best response, but it is understandable.
More information in one chapter than in 14 chapters of stalking.
9341772
That was my thought. If I were the MC, I'd be protesting, "Hey. You KNEW I was living with a ghost. You knew I KNEW I was living with a ghost. And you said ONE extremely cryptic thing WEEKS ago and literally nothing else about the matter, then left me to my own devices. What right do you have to be upset with me for not knowing how to properly deal with this?"
Personally, I think a punch like that was a bit much. But perhaps he didn't realize how fragile human noses were, a pony snoot could likely take a bop like that without cracking. And he was conciliatory afterward - I suspect the "we all do things in the heat of the moment that we later regret" may have at least partially referred to that.
9341916
The idiot human chased off his dead niece. I'm cutting him some slack here.
See, boops don't work the same with humans. A light bop to a pony is a nose-breaking blow!
Wonder how she passed. Probably not (yet) important, in the same way we don't know his occupation in the town.
Buddy, it's box-forts all the way down.
As much as many seem to think out poor confused lad deserved his bloody nose, I tend to think it was an emotional over-reaction and honestly simply not justified.
Seriously, how was the poor lad meant to know that her reaction would be so extreme? I mean, he had no way of knowing the circumstances of her passing and the old codger did not particularly go out of his way to explain what his interest in the situation was. Heck, in his introduction he could have said "You know, my niece/nephew used to live there so if you have any questions...." and that could have been taken as meaning if our lad had questions about the house itself or questions about any 'other' things. The old bloke would have seemed less creepy/weird and the statement would also have had context for the new owner of a home. Things would likely never have escalated to this level as our lad would have had a path of inquiry open to him. Both of them have made mistakes and both have regrets, but neither one deserves being unsuspectingly punched in the face.
Both of them are now likely marked by the locals as 'a bit weird', one for being randomly punched and the other for punching him without any seeming cause.
You can tell the lad did not grow up in a small town... neighbours would just wander over any time at all and it was almost guaranteed they'd drop over if something interesting seemed to be happening in the yard. Heck, start renovating the house and the sound of power tools would mean someone would just randomly come inside to see what was happening and to check if you wanted a hand... or in the case of some less useful individuals, to tell you that you were doing it wrong and that they'd be doing it differently!
We are still missing something pretty fundamental here. Why didn't the stallion move to that house? Emotional reaction aside (understandable even if not justifiable) there are things clearly left unsaid.
I won't say that that was the right thing to do, but it was certainly understandable. The wound is clearly still fresh if the old stallion still has a room waiting for Windflower. (That or he hoped she'd visit her great-uncle afterwards.) Plus it broke the protagonist out of his box-fort paranoia. Now he can hopefully mend fences in a calm and rational manner.
Okay, the sheer quantity of purchased flowers probably rules out both calm and rational, but still.
9341901
Amazing what asking the right questions to the right people can do.
And she was killed... BY CHERNGELERNGS!!
The same 3-legged cherngelerng who KILLED MY WIFE AND FRAMED ME FOR THE MURDER!!
Now I must keep on the run from Tommy Lee Jones pony! I even had to dive off Rainbow Falls to get away!
(Seriously, am I the only one who thinks changelings would be a perfect fit for a pony version of "The Fugitive"?)
9341992 1. How was the human to know it was his niece? 2. How was he to know anypony knew ghosts were real? 3. How was he to know he could even scare a ghost?
You see, as with all emotionally over-wrought fans without common sense, you assume the protagonist is privy to all the information we have as 'omniscient voyeurs'. You fail to consider things from the limitations of his perspectives.
As such YOU HAVE FAILED AT LIFE AND SHALL JOIN THE REST IN ETERNAL DAMNATION!! MUWAH HA HA HA HA!!
(Alondro is a very angry Troll God... I mean, even Old Testament God is like, "Dude, calm down!")
We have learned her name!
Onward to the conclusion!
We must have ghost filly be happy!
To be fair to the old guy; i dont think he knew for sure she was there.
The chain of events as I gather, is his niece dies in the woods. Then his sister moves out, the house sits empty a while and then a new family buys it, moves in and then out in short order without saying why. (Because its crazy to claim your place is haunted.)
House sits empty a while, sells and again in and out quickly. At this point old guy is starting to suspect, but doesnt know.
Protaganist moves in and old guy is fishing for hints but anon there isn’t going to just say it because it would sound crazy, and old guy doesnt want to ask directly for the same reason.
Then protag comes right out and tells him that his niece has been stuck a specter on tge mortal plane for years now. And the first contact she has with the house’s new tenant is that he jumps out at her in the dark ans shouts Boo!
It wasnt a logical act for him to hit the protag, it was an emotional one. Which he’s acknowledged was wrong.
9342658 And the poor filly ghostie ended up in Limbo with all the exorcised ghosts from "Beetlejuice".
And everyone was miserable. Forever. Which turned Equestria into New Jersey.
9342804
Now I'm imagining Megas XLR as a future Ponyville.
"Living heeeere in Jerrrrsey! Fighting villains from afarrrrrr!"
9342222
the protagonist didn't deserved the punch because the stress of ( thinking ) you have a ghost in your house and having to hide it , was driving him crazy . Not because he could not have known that he would regret pranking the Filly
9343524
At any rate it makes that old stallion not deserve yo trow the punch as he could have avoid what i previously mentioned
Was she killed while he was looking after her? He has a bedroom for her and her favorite blanket.
9343667
That or hiring the Ghost Dusters (yes that's a ref to a GB Parody)
9344229
you said boo... I'm leaving.
9343056 Is that fat pony going to be Coop?
9341643
One bit of information our protagonist hadn’t managed to get yet.
9341644
He totally did deserve it. And he knew it, too.
9341652
Yes, he did.
9341659
Sometimes that’s what it takes to knock some sense into a person.
They just jump out at a person when he’s least expecting it!
9341671
9341691
Agreed--even if I don’t know who ralsei is. There are just some things that you don’t do, and this is one of them.
9341692
We do indeed.
That isn’t why she’s coming back, but it’s not a bad hypothesis. It’s certainly a better theory than anything the protagonist has come up with thus far.
9341766
Not in the context of this story. Overall, if I had to guess, I’d expect that ponies would be friendly towards neutral of benevolent ghosts, and do their best to get rid of malevolent ghosts.
It sounds like, yes, but that’s assuming that the old stallion had some information which he might not have actually had.
9341703
It does, indeed.
9341772
I would argue that it depends on what the result of the prank is. Like, we pulled a bunch of pranks at one shop I worked at that were supposed to be harmless, but one of them wound up with a guy getting burns on his leg, and another led to me having to take half a day off due to breathing way too much air freshener in a confined space. Neither of those pranks were intended to hurt anybody, but that’s what wound up happening.
Agreed in principle, but at the same time, the situation’s more complicated than first read might suggest . . . and I can’t really go much further without spoilers, but consider what the old stallion might or might not have known when judging his reaction.
9341830
As commented directly above, yeah. Sometimes pranks have unintended consequences.
It’s also worth considering what the old stallion knows, and what he just learned for the first time from the protagonist’s restaurant confession, and judge his reaction from that perspective . . . which is to say, you’ve pretty much hit the nail on the head with the motivation for the punch. Your timeline’s wrong, though
9341901
Well, that’s how it goes sometimes. Ask the right person (or pony) the right question, and sometimes you get an answer that’s been vexing you for quite some time.
9341902
That’s a very reasonably response, no disagreement . . .
. . . but--it depends on what the old stallion knew, doesn’t it? If there was something he didn’t know, his response could be far more justified.
9341916
I’d think that punching another pony in the nose is still an unfriendly act, even if pony noses are stronger than human noses (and I think they are, but I’m not entirely sure on that point, and also do not google “horse nosebleed”). You’re right that the ‘we all do things . . . ‘ was in part a reference to him punching the protagonist and sort of halfway apologizing for it.
9341992
Yes, this exactly.
I don’t know if you read Tamora Pierce, but a line that’s always stuck with me from one of her novels is when Raoul, a knight who’s just been threatened by another noble, says “I make allowance for your grief,” and refuses to fight the noble. The old stallion is probably not entirely in the right place here, and the protagonist hasn’t been an angel, either.
9347338
Such as, he didn't know until our guy told him?
I suppose olden pony could have approached our guy because he knew the house, and could potentially assist with any particular thing, or point out ponies who could...
...but that first conversation was really weird from start to finish, initiated pretty much out of the blue by the geezer, and came with no apparent emotional attachment. The simple solution is usually the correct - or something like that - but I'm not sure which option to label the simpler one.
9342110
While I tend not to go entirely down this rabbit hole, of course there are parts of a pony that are tougher than the corresponding parts of a human, and that may be the case with the nose [the old stallion did not make this mistake; as I’m sure you know, this wasn’t a nose boop that went wrong]. (Zyrian has a fic that explores human fragility vs. pony strength, and he’s probably not the only one.)
How she passed isn’t entirely significant at this point in the story, although it will become more obvious later.
Our protagonist’s occupation is entirely unimportant to the story. Maybe he’s an accountant.