The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
I should have expected that a day named Winter’s Dawn would feature snow, although I hadn’t been expecting it at all. I didn’t notice until I walked into the bathroom and looked out the window, where snowflakes were gently drifting down.
On my way to work, I took the time to look up at the pegasi working overhead. They must have started at the first light of dawn, or perhaps sooner, getting the clouds in place.
It looked really pretty. The first snowfall always does.
Foals were bounding around on their way to school, enjoying the first snow of the season. I thought it was kind of cruel to make them go to school at all, but then I realized that if the snow kept up at this pace, there’d be a good blanket of it by the time school got out, and they could build snowmen or snow forts or go sledding or whatever else foals did with snow. Maybe that was how they’d planned it.
•••••
I hadn’t been wrong about the afternoon. It looked like three or four inches had come down, and now the skies were mostly clear again: a small team of pegasi were clearing out the few remaining clouds. The entire town glittered like a wonderland.
It wasn’t until I got home that I thought about Windflower. I still hadn’t told the old stallion where her resting place was, and I didn’t know if I could find it under a blanket of snow. I should have left some kind of marker nearby, like a ribbon tied to a tree or something that could be easily seen from a distance.
If I’d been thinking straight when I’d gone out there, I would have used something to mark the entire path. I wasn’t confident any more that I’d find it again, and that wasn’t right at all. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
What would Windflower do for the winter? I didn’t think that snow would affect a ghost; I didn’t think that they could really feel hot or cold.
It looked really strange for the living room to be filled with flowers, and then to look past them all to the snowy panorama outside. It was the strange dichotomy between inside and outside, of things not aligning like they ought to.
As I looked at the boxes some of the flowers were sitting on, I wondered if I could build a ghost-nest up in the attic. In case she did want to stay inside for the winter. A couple boxes could be laid over on their side, near the roof so she could get in and out quickly if she wanted to. At the opposite end of the attic from the trap, as well.
It wasn’t all that much effort to carry a few upstairs and arrange them into a little ghost-house. I put the wooden puppy and the stuffed pony nearby—even if she didn’t want them, they might pique her curiosity. Maybe she’d think that there was another filly in the house.
All her other toys were where she’d left them, and the wooden duck was still gone. I hoped that if she’d left it out last night, she’d found it again.
I didn’t feel like making dinner, and I also didn’t feel like reorganizing the living room again so I could get to the fireplace. I was probably going to regret that tomorrow, but the stove also put off a fair bit of heat, and I figured that would be sufficient.
I was going to have to ask Milfoil how ponies kept their houses warm during the day, when they weren’t home. It didn’t seem safe to keep a fire in the fireplace or the stove burning all day. I couldn’t help but wonder if the answer was going to be that they didn’t, since they always had fur coats on. Maybe I was going to have to learn to get used to the cold. Invest in winter clothes.
Still, they must do something to keep their houses above freezing—there was plumbing in my walls, and if it got too cold, the pipes would freeze and burst.
•••••
I’d gotten motivated enough to start a fire in the stove, but rather than cook anything, I’d just eaten raw vegetables. They tasted a lot better than they ever had on Earth. It could have been because they were fresher, or home-grown, or different varieties than were available at big box stores, or I could have been getting more used to them. Maybe it was a combination of factors—that was also a possibility.
I heard the kitchen door open and hoofsteps on the kitchen floor. For a moment I considered what Milfoil would do if I just walked into her house someday, and immediately realized that she probably wouldn’t be bothered by it at all.
“Were you going to make dinner?”
I shrugged. “We can if you want some. I’m not really hungry any more.”
“I’ll be fine.” She came into the living room and hopped up on the couch. I was sitting in my armchair. “I brought over some hot chocolate, although it needs to be warmed up. I thought you probably didn’t know that on Winter’s Dawn it’s traditional to sit in front of the fireplace and drink hot chocolate with a friend.” Her ears drooped as she saw my blocked-off fireplace. “Maybe we should go to my house instead.”
I considered that and then shook my head. “I’d hate for Windflower to think that she’s been abandoned. I don’t think she would, but. . . .”
“She must feel so alone out there. You’re right. It won’t take long at all to get the flowers moved around.”
•••••
We spent the next hour cleaning up the living room. By the end of it, there was a more sensible single row of flowers in front of the living room window with a second smaller cluster behind them of the sick but not too sick flowers—Milfoil had those—and there were also now flowers in every room in my house except the bathroom.
While I was pushing the couch and armchair into their new positions, Milfoil came back with a bundle of twigs, which she set right in the fireplace. “They’re all fruit twigs, and it’s traditional to start the Winter’s Dawn fire with them.”
“Sort of like a Yule Log,” I said. “That’s a human tradition some places, although people don’t use fireplaces much any more.”
“Why not?”
“We have other ways to keep our houses warm,” I said. That was the simplest explanation. There were probably building codes involved and the expense of chimneys and the availability of clean and simple vent-free fireplaces, but she didn’t need to know all that.
“I don’t think I’d like that.” She struck a match against the stone of the fireplace and held it to the bundle of sticks.
Once it got going, I started building up the fire the rest of the way while she went to the kitchen and warmed up the hot chocolate.
•••••
The hot chocolate was more than I’d bargained for—it was loaded with brandy. I was glad I’d just sipped at it rather than guzzling it.
It was also amazingly delicious, thick and rich without being too sweet. “Did you make this?”
Milfoil nodded. “Do you like it?”
“I’ve never tasted anything like it. Where do you get the mix?”
“Um, I got the milk from Évolène’s dairy farm, cornflower from the miller, cocoa powder from the general store, cinnamon from Cassia Canna’s stall, and the brandy from Pomace’s.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. “So you made it from scratch?”
“How else would you make it?”
“Usually on Earth, you can buy all the ingredients already mixed.”
“Oh, like a broth.”
“Just the dry ingredients, so it’s a powder.” I took another sip. “This tastes so much better, though.”
“My father always said that to do something right takes time.”
“We humans lost sight of that a while back, and now we usually prefer faster and cheaper.”
“I don’t think I would like Earth,” she admitted. “You must be bothered by the slow pace of things here.”
“I’d rather do things the slow way. That’s why I moved out here from the city. Plus, it’s prettier.”
She took a sip of her hot chocolate and then leaned over against my shoulder. “You should see the town in springtime. It’s so beautiful. We— “ Her ears snapped around and she turned her head down the hall. “Oh . . . oh, you poor dear.”
I didn't budge. Windflower’s first impression of me hadn’t been a good one, and surely that was who was in the hall. I hadn’t even heard her come in; she must have heard our voices or the crackling of the fire and come downstairs to investigate.
I couldn’t see her at all—she was still back behind the corner.
“You can join us, Windflower. It’s okay.”
I wished that I could see her. I thought I could see a glow from the hallway, but that was probably just my imagination. Surely she wasn’t glowing brighter than the fire.
I had to stay still. Not threaten her. Even though I wanted to see her come into the living room, I didn’t think that would happen. Not right away; it was too soon. She would be scared to go any further.
Milfoil shifted on the couch and I wanted so badly to scooch over and look for myself but I had to put my trust in her. She was a pony Windflower knew, a pony she trusted. She would do more to build confidence in Windflower than I ever could.
If I got up now, I could move away without ever being in her sight, but I was afraid that if I did, she might come around the corner just when I was trying to be sneaky, and she might think I was stalking her. And I was sure if she thought that, she’d flee and never come back.
Had she even seen the wolf before it got her? She must have, at least when its jaws clamped down on her.
This was not a good line of thought, so I instead focused back on the fireplace and concentrated on the dancing flames, the glow of the coals, and the hissing and crackling noises.
Milfoil left the couch and approached the hallway, very slowly, very cautiously. I thought that was risky—it was wiser to let a skittish filly approach on her own, rather than push her.
“You don’t have to be scared,” she said softly. “Nopony is mad at you, okay? You’re welcome here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Milfoil wasn’t moving forward any more. Was Windflower?
I wanted to think she was, but even if she wasn’t, if she just stood her ground, that was progress.
Milfoil tried a couple more times to coax her out of the hallway, but Windflower wouldn't come. Finally, she turned back around and climbed back on the couch.
“Poor dear. She’s so lost and scared and confused.”
“Do you think she knows?”
Milfoil shook her head sadly.
A strange monster was her last sight before she died, and now a strange monster is living in her house. Poor thing.
This has great pacing, is very cute, and has relatable characters while being fantastic in subject matter.
In a story with ponies, magic, ghosts, and a lack of indoor heating, it's surprising just how well I can imagine myself being in the story, or talking to the characters.
I suspect it's gonna take the old stallion to coax Windflower to come out.
She was very brave to come back in and go as far as she did. Good thing Milfoil is there so often—pretty sure her presence and influence is helping.
I finally looked up milfoil. Did you have something specific in mind when you named her? Also, have I missed what she looks like, somehow? I don't recall you describing her.
Poor thing I hope she feels less scared soon. And if she heard them she at least heard that she's welcome and no one is angry, even if she doesn't really know what's going on.
He's starting to get just how weird it is to live with ponies, and their total control of their environment. Also nice, but that's beside the point.
Heh, missing your narrative causality.
AWWWWWWW :)
Poor ghost. I want to hug her, but that would also scare her.
Well, she came down at least. Progress?
Might not have been able to get Boo closer to the fire, but at least she has somewhere within her own house she can hide more comfortably in the attic?
'Of dawn', my dear.
Windflower or WildFlower? You seem to keep switching.
*Milfoil?
The poor dear.
She doesn't know what's going on. Her parents and her stuff are gone, and there's a strange creature living in her home.
Gentle care is wanted here. Milfoil definitely has the right idea, but she's not quite trusted/familiar enough. Windflower needs the comfort of her own family, somepony she trusts unreservedly.
Sooner or later they'll need a spiritualist of some form, someone to explain the facts of un-life to the poor dear.
9371417
I haven't looked it up to see if it has any special connotations but I'm a bit disappointed she doesn't take to the Mr. Greenhooves school of watering plants. It is an aquatic plant, isn't it?
You almost made me snort my drink you dasterly word playing artist.
Oooooo! I can't wait for our human to have a lap ghost-cat-pone!
I just realized something pretty sad that our protag is gonna have a hard time fixing.
Windflower’s last sight was some apex predator she’s never seen before sneaking up on her from behind.
And her one interaction with him, the human, another apex predator she’s never seen before, is that he snuck up behind her and startled her.
Poor little girl.
There's a word for a bundle of twigs... now let me see if I can remember what that was...
9372177 Well, we're more like apex omnivores. We mastered everything and therefore won The Game!
img.memecdn.com/the-game_o_437560.jpg
Turns out, Earth has been trolling everyone all along.
More ghosty pony? I am so in!
One day he'll forget that the hot chocolate has brandy in it. The next day Windflower will be gone for good (and for the good of herself) and he won't remember any of it
9371665
Well when there's four different instances of flowers between whole names, the collective plural flowers, the kind you eat, and the parts of names, they all start to lump together.
Cool; three hats are better than one -- nice
Milfoil is growing on me, like a weed.
I should get that looked at.
Milfoil, is that a REAL tradition or did you just make that up?
Dang, Etherealness is a 7th level spell. I don't think there's a powerful enough unicorn around to cast it on them. It would solve our Ghost Hugging needs... but then again, muh heart would explode.
9373826
Well if "my ghost khana" (adult manga about a guy who falls in love with a ghost and their relationship) all you need to touch a ghost is genuine love for them. Ghost ponies need hugs too.
What happens when Windflower realizes she is dead? Will she just then pass to the Elysium fields ? Adopt a ghost filly?
9374418
You can always touch... their hearts.
*Initiate tomato dodging!*
Since Winter is around the corner it would be ice to see Windflower be welcomed into the home, after all it's not like they are giving her the cold shoulder, it would be snow problem to let her stay, even if the current owner hails from another world. And as for her being possibly treated badly again I think there are two ponies who would be flurryious. I do hope these puns don't chill any of you, all i want to do is chill and not offend.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
It's happening!!!
Oof, that's... really sad.
Building fireplaces usually means laying bricks or pouring concrete. That would raise the cost of construction for something that's rarely used.
9371332
I know, right? Poor little filly.
9371399
Thank you!
I think that’s as much a mark of good characters as anything. Like, no matter how fantastic the novel, if I can get into the characters, I’m along for the ride.
9371411
Don’t underestimate Milfoil. She’s known to Windflower, and she’s a total sweetie.
9371417
She was a brave and curious filly, and some of that persisted in the afterlife. And yeah, Milfoil is a big help . . . seeing another pony that she knew helps make our protagonist less scary.
She’s specifically named for the variety of yarrow (which, to save you time from asking ‘why yarrow?’, it’s because it’s got medicinal properties for equines). Also it’s pretty.
9371419
Knowing that she’s welcome is the biggest hurdle. If she knows that, she’ll be braver, even if she doesn’t know what’s going on.
It would be weird, no question. I don’t know if the weather control specifically would be the weirdest part of it all . . . maybe it’s one of those things where you go to a foreign country where they hype up sidewalk cafes or something and those are nice, but your mind’s stuck on the squat toilets.
I bet everyone thinks this sometimes.
9371433
Especially if you sneak up behind her and glomp her. But she does need a hug. Hopefully something can be worked out on that front.
9371451
I’d say so, yeah. Sometimes it’s the little things that are progress, and her actually coming downstairs when she can hear voices is big progress.
9371632
Maybe the attic is the most comfortable room in the house. Maybe it was her playroom when she was a filly. Maybe she even slept up there.
Or maybe she just hasn’t been coming down in the house proper ‘cause the protagonist scared her off.
9371665
Corrections fixed, and as noted before, it is Windflower.
It’s got to be so jarring for her. Besides the obvious her family and things are missing, as someone else pointed out, she’s probably never seen an actual human before, so he’s not just a monster living in her house; he’s a monster she can’t identify.
9371686
That would be ideal, but maybe not needed for sure. Milfoil might be close enough that Windflower will trust her in time. She might be more willing to approach if Milfoil’s alone--even with someone she trusts, the presence of a ‘monster’ in the house would worry her.
Maybe, maybe not. Sort of depends on how pony magic (and pony death) works. Although if a spiritualist can be found, that would be a very good resource for them to utilize, no question.
9371813
Yarrow--of which milfoil is a variety--does have healing effects on equines. It can also poison them, incidentally. And yes, there is also an aquatic version of it. I’d have to look, but the aquatic plant might be named due to its resemblance to the land version.
9371923
I think that of all the names, Évolène was the best. Had to do a fair bit of research to get that one.
9372050
I know, right? I don’t know how it would work; it might wind up being kind of disappointing if he can’t scritch behind her ears, or if she turns out to be as cold as an ice sculpture, but it’s still worth a try. He could put a blanket on her lap, and she could sit on that.
9372177
You are 100% correct. He screwed up big time, and it’s no wonder she left in a hurry. No matter what he does going forward, she’s going to have trouble getting past that, and with good reason.
9372217
I believe the word you’re looking for is sheaf.
Think again, son.
vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/uncyclopedia/images/a/ac/Lostthegame.JPG/revision/latest?cb=20130318152840
9372768
9373296
Hopefully that’s not how it turns out. Also hopefully he already knows that he can’t outdrink an earth pony, and shouldn’t even try.
Let me tell you, I struggle with that a lot. Especially since so many varieties of flower are probably named on whim, and may or may not be unique names.
Someday I’m going to write a story where all the earth ponies have the scientific latin name instead of an English name.
9373706
No, you shouldn’t. It’s fine.
9373826
It’s probably a real tradition. It sounds like something ponies would do.
Although if a unicorn had a cutie mark in spiritualism or something similar, that’d bump the level requirement down a couple of notches.
And heart exploding would be the result, but so totally worth it.
9374418
I’ll be honest, for all that I knock plot devices like that in stories generally, in ponyland I suspect that’s exactly how it could work.
9374480
That’s a good question, isn’t it?
You’ll have to wait and see.
9374582
Also, before I get too sappy:
pics.me.me/woah-hey-ghost-backup-wait-ou-want-a-hug-0-28423726.png