The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
Based on what I knew from Earth, Christmas had been scheduled based on old Pagan festivals, which were originally meant to celebrate the fact that the days weren’t getting shorter any more, that they were getting longer. Winter would come to an end.
From a purely astronomical point of view, that made sense. If I was planning out on paper when to have a holiday celebrating a nascent new year, that’s where I would have put it.
But seasons lagged, not only on Earth, but also in Equestria. Back on Earth, Christmas was situated more towards the beginning of winter rather than the end, and the ponies had made the same mistake when it came to timing.
Hearth’s Warming wasn’t a halfway point; instead, it was fairly early in the season. Yes, the days were getting longer, that was an undeniable fact, but the weather stayed snowy and cold. Colder, in fact, than it had been for Hearth’s Warming.
Some of that was probably subjective. There was the Running of the Leaves and not too long after that Hearth’s Warming decorations started to appear, and while at first it seemed that was too soon, the holiday just rushed up and all of a sudden it was there. There was lots to do before the holiday, and little to do after.
Just the same, another month wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch. The ponies could have pushed it back and that would have provided more time to plan, and possibly better weather for travel. That would have provided longer days, while still having the snow cover required for a proper winter holiday. More importantly, that would have shifted it more toward a halfway point, at least in terms of the average person’s understanding of winter fading into spring.
Maybe Earth ponies thought differently; maybe the song of the land spoke to them in a different manner, so I didn’t suggest to Milfoil that the holiday ought to be moved.
But it was hard to remember that the days were getting longer, that the tilt on the axis was changing, that spring was just around the corner, when it was still cold and snowy.
The first snow of the season was special, and a few storms after that were memorable, and then as winter continued on, they became a chore. The excitement over fresh snow was replaced with disappointment each time.
I had to remind myself that that was a human thought. Foals, especially, seemed to enjoy each new snow. And I hadn’t heard any ponies complaining about it, either.
While I could have tossed market pony gossip as an unreliable source, since it stood to reason they’d say whatever it took to make a sale—regardless of their actual feelings on the matter—I couldn’t really dismiss Milfoil’s opinion.
I never asked her directly, but the evidence piled up nonetheless. She didn’t share my opinion that winters were best spent cooped up in the house looking at the pretty landscape outside, and dragged me into all sorts of outdoor activities.
Which she and the other ponies participated in mostly nude. In fact, I came to the conclusion that hats and scarves were as much of a fashion accessory for ponies as anything. Granted, having a fur coat was a blessing when it came to that—I wasn’t going to go outside in just my boxers and a hat.
•••
Windflower kept returning on her usual schedule. I got the sense that she was also getting tired of winter, although maybe I was projecting my thoughts on her. She’d often circle the snowed-in garden restlessly, examining the dead stems of the plants that stuck above the drifting snow.
We’d kept up the Hearth’s Warming decorations longer than normal, but eventually it came time to take them back down again, and they got packed in boxes and put up in the attic for next year.
Windflower’s doll was returned to her great-uncle. If she was still around next year, he’d let us borrow it again.
•••
My cooking skills improved, slowly.
Besides Windflower’s nightly arrival, one of the highlights of the winter was watching Milfoil care for all the potted plants in the living room—and at her house. I followed her around, and we experimented with ways for me to hear the song. I would lightly touch a plant when she was watering it, or rest my hand on her back as she nipped off a few dying leaves. I tried putting my hands in the soil, and tried again when she touched her nose to it, or her hooves to the pot.
Sometimes it was frustrating. Sometimes it felt like I was making no progress at all. I’d try something new, expecting that it might be the breakthrough that we were both hoping for, and nothing would happen.
Other times, it was within my grasp, at least for a few moments. It was faint, and it might have been as much imagined as actually heard, but it was undeniable.
As the winter dragged on, the successes started to accumulate faster than the failures. I was learning how to clear my mind, how to pick up at least a little bit on the melody, and we began to move to the next stage of experimentation.
“No two ponies hear the song quite the same way,” Milfoil said.
“So I won’t have any luck finding an Earth Pony Magic for Dummies book that explains it all?”
“You’re not a dummy. Well—”
“I know what you mean.” I leaned in and kissed her on the nose. It didn’t bother me that there were a few crumbs of dirt stuck to it. “Is it because ears are all different?”
“That’s part of it, and your own magic also blends into the melody.”
“Even though I haven’t got magic.”
“You must, or else you wouldn't hear.” She said that with utter certainty. It reminded me of an episode of The Simpsons where Bart sold his soul and then discovered that automatic doors didn’t work for him anymore. While it was a silly premise, I could understand Milfoil’s thinking, and although I knew that automatic doors didn’t detect souls, I couldn’t be sure if it was actually a requirement of the melody to be able to change it before it could be heard.
Although back on Earth I could at least do blunt things to plants to change their lives, and that might have been all that was required.
“So how are we testing it? Impartial observers? A blindfold?” I’d heard of various ways of proving and disproving psychic powers.
“Just keep your ears forward, and you’ll start to understand,” she said. “I remember being kinda frustrated as a filly when Sabi would know things that I didn’t, but then I got the knack for it and I started to really understand what I was hearing. It’s not something that you’ll be able to comprehend all at once. For me, the more I heard, the more I was able to make sense of it all, and I think it will work that way for you, too.”
“Do you think that Windflower still sees the world like that?”
Milfoil frowned. “I think . . . I think not exactly. Not anymore. I think by the way she acts sometimes, she’s not hearing all of it, and I think that sometimes she knows that something is missing and other times she doesn’t.
“Sometimes after she’s left, and you’ve fallen asleep, I think about it. I wonder if she’s still fading away or if she’s been pulled back at least a bit by what we’re doing, and I wonder how it happened and I wonder what we can do to fix it. I worry that if we let it go on for too long, something will happen that we haven’t anticipated, and I’m afraid that it will be bad.”
“Bad? Like ‘the forest dies’ bad?”
“I don’t think that bad. But, it would be bad for her, I’m sure of that. And it could—there are plant diseases, and some of them I don’t know how to treat. If I had a favorite plant that got sick and I didn’t want to cull it for the good of the rest, the disease would spread. I don’t think this is the same, but I’m not completely certain that it isn’t.”
“That’s a worrying thought.”
•••
Back on Earth, winters varied from one year to the next. Snow came early, snow came late, snow kept coming even when it shouldn’t. One year I distinctly remember snow on the first day of spring, and other years I remembered wearing shorts in January. Weather was complex.
For the ponies, it was simpler. The snow came when pegasi wanted it to, and as the month turned the countdown began to Winter Wrap-Up. That was the official end of winter, not something guessed at by a woodchuck but instead an official decree.
I knew that there were parts of winter I’d miss. The pervasive smell of woodsmoke in the air, the beauty of frost creeping around the edges of the windows, the magic of fresh snow. The blessing of cuddling up with a warm pony. I thought of nights with the covers pushed back and the desperate hope for any breeze to evaporate the sweat on a hot, humid July night, and I reminded myself how I’d be longing for the snow and cold then.
As winter inexorably drew to a close, the stark, almost black-and-white beauty of the winterscape would be replaced by a softer, less-defined palette of greens and browns, dotted with bright splashes of color. The house would turn from a comfy blanket to more of a hot prison.
I was sure that the weather schedule was published well in advance, and unlikely to contain many surprises. Sometimes the weatherponies made mistakes and had to fix them, but that was uncommon. I was used to the weather app on my phone giving different predictions from one day to the next as the model was refined, but when I was in Manehattan, the weather calendar was almost never wrong.
Had I wanted to, I could have likely gotten a copy of the annual weather schedule. Something like the Farmer’s Almanac, but far more accurate. But I didn’t want to. As winter drew to a close, I felt more and more that I preferred the mystery of it.
•••
There weren’t many days left of our cozy living room arrangement. Of Windflower checking her amaranth, and then weaving through the other pots of plants. Of the fire crackling in the fireplace. The calendar inexorably marched towards Winter Wrap-Up and as we got closer and closer I wanted to drag it back.
I wonder if this town lets unicorns contribute their magical talents?
Yes, Steve, bask in the glory of Winter Wrap Up. We'll have you bursting into song for no reason at the drop of a hat by month's end.
As for bad things happening because Windflower isn't letting go, or being anchored by people and ponies who cafe for her, I suspect the worst-case scenario is getting your soul torn out of its fleshy shell and you'll be doomed to haunt the house forever. Or until someone tears it down and you become the Great and Dead Steve who puts on traveling shows with your dead girlfriend and adopted child.
Can you marry and adopt as ghosts?
Probably the best part of Winter Wrap-Up is that ponies don't get any of that crummy, slushy snow/mud mix that we do. That stuff is the worst.
Our protagonist knows something is coming and it is going to break his heart. I hope he will be ready if it time for Windflower move onto her next great adventure.
9487851
woohoo~
At this rate, Discord is going to wake him up on Wrap Up day, by burying him in lettuce and calling out, Iceberg Ahead.
Finally a person who understands winter and understands my loathing of summer.
Sooner or later, someone is going to have to ask an expert about ghosts. They need to take that step to find out what to do next.
9487829 Or humans.
"Hey, this is how we wrap up winter back home. Just don't ask where I got the bulldozer."
9487923 Tell me about it!
(Everyone stares at Alondro and slowly moves away... they then try to run, but when they open the door to freedom, they find him WAITING ON THE OTHER SIDE!! OF EVERY DOOR!! HE'S BECOME QUANTUM!!)
PS: I totally lost track of where I was going with any of this.
This gets me into a writing mood.
I have a 7-foot grapefruit tree in my living room.
And a 6-foot cinnamon bush by the back door.
And a dwarf lemon on the window seat... a 3-foot coffee seedling in the laundry room... with a papaya plant... 5 ginger plants, another dwarf lemon in the dining room... a plumeria... half a dozen Christmas cactuses, orchids, snake plants, other cacti, black pepper vines, rosemary...
I have a lot of plants.
best spend - best spent
It it because - Is it because
Very good job at building the suspense here, there's a definite sense of foreboding by the end of the chapter.
9487952
Indeed though we don't get mounds of snow which I understand is unpopular from those who live with them but the winter wrap up song implies it's all holidays till spring
9487838
Suuuuure he is.
Silly Steve, pony cuddling is an all-season activity.
If I remember right, Christmas is a ritual attempt to bring back the sun, rather than the celebration of the sun returning.
their logic was that the sun was abandoning them or something, and decorating a Christmas tree would tempt it to come back
It's not exactly a mistake if you're just celebrating the solstice, regardless of the weather.
In any case, let's hope Milfoil's worries are as unfounded as Steve's. Though I suppose we'll only find out in time.
9491459
I'm convinced that Wildy will ultimately move on, it's just a matter of finding out what the trigger is; a proper burial for her remains?
I haven't read this story since chapter 10. I let it build up so now I can burn through chapters 11 through 40 whatever.
But before I do that, some movie recommendations and one book recommendation.
First, a few ghost/haunting themed films (not "The Shining" that's too obvious!).
"The Uninvited" (1944) - A composer and his sister discover that the reason they are able to purchase a beautiful gothic seacoast mansion very cheaply is the house's unsavory past.
"The Haunting" (1963, based on the novel "The Haunting Of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson) - A scientist doing research on the paranormal invites two women to a haunted mansion.
"The Changeling" (1980) - A man staying at a secluded historical mansion finds himself being haunted by the presence of a spectre.
"Burnt Offerings" (1976) - A family moves into an old, haunted house (rest of synopsis removed because I feel it gives away a bit much. Same thing with 'The Haunting' above. IMDB can be bad about giving away a bit too much at times).
And now for a book recommendation
"Ghost Story" by Peter Straub - For four aging men in the terror-stricken town of Milburn, New York, an act inadvertently carried out in their youth has come back to haunt them. Now they are about to learn what happens to those who believe they can bury the past.
9496066
I may make this a series of older film recommendations.
9487829
I suspect that that’s just a Ponyville thing.
I mean, not just Ponyville, but that it’s the exception rather than the norm.
9487896
Well, once he’s properly hearing the song, he’s got no choice but to sing along, amirite?
Which, let’s admit, is one of those things that can go really well or really badly, and there is no in-between. It’s one of those ‘you’ve doomed us all’ or ‘this went better than expected’ things.
My own feelings is that ghosts aren’t really big on bureaucracy. Which isn’t a no, but it’s also not a yes.
9487903
Oh, you’re not kidding. That might be why they decided to wrap up winter in the first place, honestly. Some enterprising pony got tired of muddy slush and decided she was going to solve the problem for once and for all.
9487925
Let’s be honest; when you’ve got a filly ghost you know full well that there is no way that it’s going to end without heartbreak.
That’s not something that you can really be ready for, but I think that when it comes down to it, he’ll do okay.
9487927
9487938
What type of lettuce did they serve on the Titanic? Iceberg.
What kind of coffee did they drink? Sanka.
(you may now proceed to hit me with a baseball bat)
9487952
Summer’s got its high points, but the biggest downside for me is those super hot and humid days.
9487953
That’s not a bad idea, but where would they find an expert? I feel like that’s not something that you can find in the yellow pages, nor would asking around town be particularly fruitful.
9487954
If Applejack can rent a Bobcat, Steve ought to be able to get some sort of snow-pusher.
And there are probably plenty of things he can apply his human skills to, honestly.
9488054
The hallmark of a mad scientist/megalomaniac--too many plots to keep track of.
9488092
Huzzah!
9488110
One thing I’ve got that’s better than you (probably) is a house with a proper backyard.
I’m not the best at plant husbandry, but despite my failings, plants do, and my yard’s full of ‘em. I’ve got daisies and lilies and mulberry trees and cherry trees and paper birches and white pines and a weeping willow and ten-foot tall highbush cranberries and dame’s rocket and wild grapes and a giant burdock and some kind of bottle-brush plant that even a botanist thought was weird.
It does well.
9488113
Corrections made; thank you!
Thanks!
9488258
I’m sure they make much of their winter holidays and the time off from the daily work, but I can’t help but feel that wintertime is a distressing season for earth ponies especially. Sure, there’s much fun to be had, but there’s also the nagging worry at the back of the mind that one time it might not end when it should.
It’s got a lot going for it, the sports and the stark beauty, but there’s also the bitter cold that chills you to the bone and the short days and the slush and ice.
9488453
9489730
It is, but it’s less enjoyable in the summer when said pony is covered in a film of sweat and also hotter than human body temperature. [horses are hotter than humans and that’s a scientific fact]
9491191
In the strictest sense (and don’t go quoting me here for research papers), Christmas is about the birth of Christ, full stop.
However, there were numerous pagan rituals/celebrations to bring back the sun--which of course all fell on or around the solstice--and the Church appropriated some of those traditions for reasons and decided that we’d celebrate Jesus’s birth on Dec. 25 . . . which, cynically, is as good a day as any, since we don’t know (although it probably wasn’t Dec. 25).
tl:dr--yeah, basically most winter festivals around the solstice were to entice the sun coming back, or to celebrate that it was.
9491459
Well, it is if you put it on the 25th rather than the 21st or thereabouts (IIRC, the winter solstice varies by a day either way).
If anything, I’d put more credence in Milfoil’s worries. Not to say that she’s always right, because she isn’t, but he’s the stranger in the strange land, and she’s the one who knows how it all works.
9494736
That’s really the key, in’t it? She surely will, but how? Kicking and screaming, or proper-like? One hopes for the latter, which means that they do need to find out what the right trigger is.
9496105
I think people just don't appreciate me calling them out for their bitching about the heat when in the winter they said they'd rather that heat then the regular winter.
Another book this story reminds me of is "The Lovely Bones" by Alice Sebold. That was an important book for me to read during a certain time in my life.
9496107
I can't help but help but picture some poor pony in a basement somewhere leafing sadly through a book titled "so you love a ghost" and wishing someone, anyone would knock on their department door so they could finally do what their cutie mark said was their destiny and advise them on spirits and the afterlife.
9496120
My window box has a magically regrowing selection of weeds. No matter how often I remove them a week or two later they're back.
9496127
Hard to say what a pony would prefer as others pointed out horses are hotter than humans and that's not considering the inbuilt fur coat.
9496129
Don't give me that face, I know what you did!
9496120 We don't have as much variety outside as we used to... deeeeeeeeeer... I hate them...
9499850
"Flowers In The Attic" is a reference to the novel by V.C. Andrews.
The basic plot is kids locked up and hidden away by their mother and grandmother into titular attic for years. Besides the obvious crazy relatives, two kids of separate genders locked away with only each other becomes let's say off-putting once puberty hits.
9499893
I haven’t read that book (I don’t think I’ve read any VC Andrews), but just recently I saw something online about how all/most VC Andrews books had incest. . . .
9496068
That’s not a bad idea.
9496248
I wonder if there are ponies with cutie marks so esoteric that they hardly ever get used? I’d like to think that isn’t the case, but. . . .
Filling it with large quantities of salt would probably get rid of the weeds for good.
I expect it would vary, as it does with humans. Assuming that they grow shaggier coats in the wintertime, at least some of them would probably enjoy it, while others would be complaining about being fluffy, or more likely wet fur.
9496458
I planted some shrubs in my backyard last year that advertised that they were deer resistant.
The deer loved them.