//------------------------------// // The Ghost Who Tended The Lost // Story: Eerie Lantern and the Not-So-Dead Haunting // by Nines //------------------------------// Scarlet Orange knew the abyss. Honestly? It wasn’t that interesting. The abyss was ice and darkness and rigidity. Memories of who she was and how she came to be there were out of Scarlet’s reach, always dangling in the periphery of her attention. She was aware there was more to who she was, but in the long stretches of freezing silence only a single thought prevailed: What is that curious taste? This repeated endlessly until...  Until came the heat. The heat always woke Scarlet. Gave her back enough of herself so that she could scream, and despair, and remember. The memories were broken pieces, but still, she remembered. Her first undead years alone in the cold would have been quiet and miserable, but it would have been a gracious burden had that been all. Instead, the awful regularity with which Scarlet was lit on fire was hellish torture. She couldn’t have known back then that the heat came from each time water was boiled in the teapot she haunted, her soul trapped in the ceramic beneath those pretty, pretty blue flowers... Ghosts didn’t get to pick their hauntings. She’d learn that very quickly after her emancipation. No, ghosts were lucky if they even remembered why they haunted something to begin with. That was usually how it went.  The trauma of death, at least for a lingering ghost, was usually too sudden, too painful, too shocking for them to properly grasp. You didn’t haunt the mortal plane because you left it on a happy note. The forgetting was a mercy. In the years Scarlet would devote to helping others like herself, she’d stand firm that death recall was a last resort in shepherding souls onward. After all, such knowledge could drive one mad, and curing mad ghosts was such a chore. Scarlet had been close to going mad herself, whilst still trapped in the ceramic. Decades passed. The brutal changes from mindless cold to burning awakening would have been enough to push any soul into irreparable fragmentation.  But Scarlet was an Orange.  In life, Oranges were famous for their thick skins and deeply rooted wills, unyielding against floods of misfortune. As much as she suffered, Scarlet was determined to make this just as true in her strange new existence. She swore this to herself, time and again, just before the heat abandoned her, dropping her back into the chilly embrace of the abyss. We shall not bend! We shall not break! Oranges… stand… tall! Her family had settled inhospitable lands, bringing the bounty of their fruit with them. Their nectar gave way to villages, towns, and cities. Like their kin, the Apples, they nourished a young kingdom to might. And what did Scarlet fight to hold on to, apart from her piecemeal memory? The voices. With each wave of awakening heat, Scarlet could hear a warping slew of strange voices, all ringing through her like plates clattering on a tray. It aggravated her, because the voices were unintelligible. Indifferent. They never answered her pleas. And she screamed so hard— HAVE MERCY, PLEASE! They were her one chance. But the living never heard. How could they? The dead did not speak with sounds as mortals did, not that she knew this. Sound was an audible wave of pressure generated by something—properties of the physical world releasing energies that carried through air, water, or solids. This wave of pressure was perceived by ears and translated to the minds of the living. Scarlet was a spirit without body. Worse, she was trapped in an inanimate object. The ghostly powers she would come to discover were not yet at her disposal. So her essence screamed her pleas, fraying her soul, but as they were just psychic flashes of pure intent and not audible words, none came to her rescue. But Scarlet, hard-headed as her mother made her, refused to give up. When the heat raised her from the dark, she would cry out, long and hard, until some-blasted-creature heard her. So she was quite relieved (and most certainly not surprised) when, one day, it finally happened. Finally… Finally! Finally! “H-Hello? Is… Is someone in there?” a youthful voice spoke. It sounded small. Uncertain. But not afraid. Just… nervously curious. The shock of actually hearing an intelligible response overwhelmed Scarlet for a moment. A short moment. It’s hot! she managed to moan. It hurts! There was a pause. Then the young voice gasped. “Oh! Oh no! Here, lemme—” Scarlet’s world lost the bite of heat. Everything still scalded, but she could already sense the difference. Her world would cool. She sighed—though not with complete relief. After all, without heat, came the mindless abyss… Her time was limited. The youth spoke again. Her voice (it sounded like a ‘her’) was closer. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone was inside! Or— Or that…” she trailed off. The silence stretched on. Scarlet felt her fear spike. She could already feel the tug of the dark. Without intense heat, she’d sink, and quickly. She needed to speak. She needed to be heard. Now. No! Please! Don’t go! she cried. Don’t leave me alone! “I’m here!” The youth sounded breathless. “Sorry, I didn’t leave. I was just wondering if… if I was letting my imagination run away from me again. My mama doesn’t like it when I hear the voices.” The youth’s voice turned sullen. “She says if she catches me talking to myself, she’ll put me on the bitters again.” She made a retching noise. If Scarlet would have been free to, she would have sat up, ears perked. Bitters? “Yeah…” A little sigh. “They're these yucky drinks the doctor gives me. It tastes like chalk and makes everything… not fun.” Another pause. When the youth spoke again, her voice sounded muffled, like her words were coming through tight lips. “The other foals tease me for being so dull because of it.” Scarlet frowned in the darkness. This sounded familiar. Why did it sound familiar? Her mind’s eye flashed with images, but she didn’t understand them: A mare with red lipstick and a bouffant yelling at her from a stagecoach. A brown medicine bottle breaking on a dirty city street. A votive candle flickering on a white table cloth, its light dancing on a glass of wine… Was this her past? She didn’t know. Do bitters… make you sleepy? she asked wispily, still enthralled with the winking brilliance of a life she only half-remembered. “Yeah!” The youth’s voice brightened again. “Did your mama make you take bitters too?” I don’t… I don’t know. Scarlet shivered. Perhaps? Long ago. She pushed the images away from her. They were distractions. She was sinking lower. The cold was coming.  Too soon. Too soon! I need help, little one! Scarlet pleaded. I’m stuck! “Uh, how did you get in our teapot, anyway?” What? I’m… I’m in a teapot? The youth giggled. “Yeah! How did you get in there? It’s a silly place to get stuck!” Scarlet huffed with impatience. I don’t know! What does it matter?! I just want to get out! They were wasting time! “Sorry…” And the youth sounded like she was. It was easy to imagine her ears drooping. Scarlet tried to calm her voice, even as her panic swelled. Snapping would not help. She needed to remember who she was speaking to—a foal. It was just… hard to keep from flights of emotion when the cold was already nipping. It never took long after the fire was gone for the numbness to start. I-It’s all right, hon, Scarlet said. But I need you to work quick and concentrate, all right? I’m stuck in your teapot, and I need help getting out. C-Can you get me out? Another pause. Scarlet had to resist screaming again. Finally, the youth spoke. “Maybe magic would work? But… B-But my horn is weak. The doctor said—” Tartarus take the doctor! Scarlet snarled. She reigned herself in, with effort, and said with exaggerated calm, Any healer who would give a smart and healthy young thing like you bitters isn’t worth two bits! Now I need you to try. Use your magic, sweetie. You can move things, can’t you? “Uh, sort of?” Then move me! Pull me out! You can sense me, right? If you can hear me, then surely you can move me! The youth’s voice gained a tremor. “I don’t know…” Please! Scarlet begged. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Her time was nearly done. Her voice frayed as she felt her spirit turning numb.  Please, hon. I need your help. You’re the only one who can help me! The words came slower. They were harder to form.  Everything is getting cold again! When… When it gets cold… It gets harder… to think… and I need… I need…  Scarlet trembled, her soul began to wheel backward, to that familiar abyss. I need to know… Wh-What is— What is... that curious... taste? Everything fell away. She felt nothing. Her eternal question bounced around in her head, over and over. What is that curious taste? What is that curious taste? What is that— An intense tingling—verging on painful, rippled through her. Scarlet gasped, her eyes snapping wide in the dark. Wha—?! She stretched. Pulled. Hollered as she felt her spirit stream through an impossibly small passage.  It hurt. Like hundreds of little needles shredding into her while some cruel foal stretched her like a nasty piece of gum.  But with the pain blossomed color. That meant… light? And in the light: shapes. At first she could make sense of none of it. Then recognition came to her, bit by bit. She wasn’t in the dark anymore! The abyss was gone! That thing over there was a couch. An ugly couch—green with orange dots. She saw a stained coffee table, a sagging bookshelf, a peeling white door. Oh! And that bright rectangle was a window—and it was day! She could see green things. Grass. Trees. Bushes. A blue sky, too. But the most important thing wasn’t out there. It was in here. With her.  Scarlet blinked, her eyes fixing on the little filly sitting on the shaggy blue carpet. She was small for a foal, with lavender fur, orange eyes, orange mane and tail, and a stumpy little horn. Scarlet blinked at this last detail. Was it just her, or did the horn look… crooked?  “Hello,” Scarlet said. Her voice was wispy. She was still in shock. The filly didn’t answer, her eyes large. Scarlet tilted her head to the side, her brow tensing with worry. She reached toward the little unicorn. “What’s wrong—?” Then she saw her limb, silver and see-through, an odd smoke trailing from her hoof. Newly freed ghosts never seemed to understand that they were dead. It was always a surprise to them. It was no less a surprise for Scarlet. She’d convinced herself, in those frantic moments of hot consciousness, that she’d been cursed somehow. That she was just stuck and she only needed to be pulled free from her prison. She’d only been partially aware of time’s passing. Certainly, she’d known she’d been trapped a long time. But dead, too…? Scarlet looked down at herself slowly, her head craning as she realized with growing horror that everything about her was colorless and see-through. Her beautiful merigold coat! Her lovely manicured hooves! Who had done this to her? For heaven sakes, she was floating! Scarlet inhaled to scream—only to realize with great alarm that she hadn’t been breathing this whole time. Her hooves curled toward her face as she shrieked, the room filling with fog. Light crackled inside her as her curly mane whipped with a sudden wind. The filly screamed too, her hooves covering her head. The window rattled, books fell from the bookcase, papers cycloned in the air— Then a bright light flashed and filled the room, and Scarlet was startled into silence, the fog of her despair receding enough to allow her the sight of the young foal. Her little body was hovering in the air, her eyes glowing white… Scarlet, terrified, fled back to the teapot, her soul acting on instinct as her form shrank and swirled, streaming in through the spout and out of sight. In the years that followed, she could never bring herself to admit that the first power she’d learned as a ghost was brought on out of fear of a foal. That day, the filly—Eerie Lantern was her name—had earned her cutie mark, revealing her destiny with the dead. Too bad no one understood it then, the filly included. Eerie’s hysteria about the “pretty mare in the silk dress” who erupted from her family’s teapot had only earned her another round of bitters. Even the milestone of earning her mark did not save her. If anything, her mother grumbled at its mysterious appearance, wondering if it had to do with “being crazy.” To her one credit, Eerie’s mother kept the teapot.  Scarlet, meanwhile, had been freed from her prison… to a point.  She could never stray too far from the teapot, like an invisible rope was tied around her soul. But whereas before she’d been locked deep inside it, she could now emerge of her own free will. As the days passed, Scarlet came to a kind of acceptance of what she was. Dead. A ghost. That wasn’t to say she was happy or at peace with it, but Oranges rarely allowed themselves the luxury of denying what was plainly seen. No, what was harder was that even free of the teapot’s ceramic, still no one could see her. Except Eerie. Eerie had seen her. But damn those bitters, they were clouding her supernatural sight! Scarlet stayed close to the filly, her savior, whenever the youth was home. She watched, saddened to see the dull look in Eerie’s eyes as the “medicine” was forced upon her. She raged on the day when three colts taunted the filly outside of her home after school. “Dreary Eerie, why ya look so teary?” They sang, over and over, their nasty voices rife with laughter. Even under the pall of the bitters, Eerie’s ears drooped, her eyes filling with tears as she watched them from her weedy front lawn. “Hooligans!” Scarlet spat. She gnashed her teeth, her eyes narrowing as crimson light crackled in her smoky form. She was a ghost, wasn’t she? If anypony deserved to be terrorized, it was these awful colts! She drifted to the run-down fence, her hooves on her hips. Then with a deep intake of breath, she screamed as loud and as hard as she could. “LEAVE HER ALONE!” She felt a veil tear, like her intent was a knife and it was cutting through, inch by inch. Before, she could not make sound. Now, her soul could manipulate the air to create it. The wind rippled. It carried her scream, but lessened, like a thin whisper. It was enough. The colts broke off their singing, their ears perking up. “D-Did you hear that?” one asked, his head craning around for the source of the sound. Another nodded, his eyes wide. “I did! It sounded like a mare’s voice…” “‘L-Leave her alone!’ That’s what it said!” the third squeaked. The colts looked at Eerie, who gazed back at them, bemused. “Let’s get out of here!” the first colt shouted. He took off at a gallop, down the road. “H-Hey, wait for us!” The remaining colts cast one last fearful look at Eerie before following their friend. A curling smile spread across Scarlet’s muzzle. She looked back at Eerie, preening with victory, but stopped short. The filly hadn’t moved. Tears still streamed down her face. Then her expression started to gradually change to an ugly scowl, like a slow storm cloud was drifting over her young features.  Her ears went flat. Her tail lashed. With a low grunt, she whipped around and stomped back to her shabby home. Scarlet’s ears drooped. Perhaps of all she had seen, the most difficult thing to witness was Eerie’s withering faith in ponykind. More days passed. Then the doctor had finally said enough.  Scarlet waited impatiently for the last of the bitters to leave Eerie’s system. She sensed more than saw the filly’s mind open once more to the unseen. She hid in her teapot and devised a plan. Then one morning, when she thought Eerie was free of the ‘medicine’, she put that plan into action. “Eerie Lantern?” Scarlet’s voice squeaked from the teapot spout. “It’s me again. The mare from the teapot.” She paused. “My name is Scarlet Orange.” Scarlet’s ears wiggled at the sound of a spoon clattering to the floor. She peeked from the spout. Eerie was sitting at the kitchen table, her jaw slack and dripping with milk and cereal. Scarlet winced. She’d interrupted breakfast. She closed her eyes and steeled her nerves. Nothing for it now! We’re in this to the end. After all, we’re an Orange! And Oranges don’t do anything by half! “Eerie,” Scarlet tried again. “You’re spilling your breakfast, hon.” The filly ignored the warning in favor of asking: “Wh-Why am I hearing you again? The doctor said—” “Now what did I say about that doctor?” Scarlet interjected firmly. Eerie swallowed. “Th-That any doctor who g-gave a smart and healthy filly bitters wasn’t worth… w-wasn’t worth—” “Two bits,” Scarlet finished. She smiled. The filly was scared, but she still had some wits about her. She could work with this. “Eerie, you got your cutie mark the day you met me. Do you remember?” She peeked from the spout again as the filly slouched in her seat, her ears pinning. “I remember,” Eerie said. She craned her head to look at her little flank. “It’s a jack-o-lantern.” She straightened again, her muzzle wrinkled. “I don’t know what it means.” Scarlet took a breath—more from habit than necessity—and then spoke slowly: “Eerie… Did you know that in some parts of the world, jack-o-lanterns represent lost spirits?” One of Eerie’s ears perked, her orange eyes beholding the teapot with wonder. “No! I didn’t know that.” “Yes, it’s true!” Scarlet nodded without thinking, her curls bobbing over her neck and shoulders. “The light shining through the carved faces was said to be souls, trapped in the mortal realm, unable to move on.” Eerie’s head tilted to the side, her orange eyes batting. “So what does that have to do with me?” “Well, you see, Eerie…” Scarlet allowed herself to slowly emerge, a small wispy cloud of smoke that steadily grew. “I was a lost spirit. I suppose I still am…” Eerie pressed back into her seat, her face lengthening. Scarlet hastened her exit from the teapot so that her upper body materialized faster. Looking back, a slow entrance had perhaps been ill-advised.  Scarlet held her hooves up, her brow wrinkling as she tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “You saved me, Eerie! When nopony else even heard my cries, you pulled me free from my prison and a wretched afterlife!” She pressed her hooves together and hovered low to the ground, her smoky form leaving a small anxious fog about her—she always seemed to get less corporeal when she was upset, Tartarus take her new form!  Eerie, meanwhile was frozen on her seat, her slack face still.  Scarlet pressed on, stumbling over her words despite her vast skills in oration—there was a lot riding on this moment, after all! She could be forgiven for being a little tongue-tied! “Eerie, p-please don’t be frightened! I— I won’t hurt you! In fact, I want to help you. Y-You see, I think your destiny lies in helping other spirits like myself! Spirits trapped in places, stuck living a fractured afterlife!” She drifted just a little closer. “But Eerie this is most important— you mustn’t tell others you can see me! Indeed, you can’t speak of any ghost! At least, not until you’re older, and nopony can force you to take those awful bitters again!” Scarlet scowled. “Your silly mother and that fool-headed doctor have no idea they are robbing you of your one greatest talent!” “Seeing dead ponies?” Eerie squeaked reedily. Scarlet winced and circled a hoof through the air. “Er, well dead creatures. I’d be very surprised if you could only see dead ponies!” Eerie scratched at the base of her horn. “That doesn’t make me feel better!” She whined. “I—I think I’m going to throw up!” Scarlet motioned placatingly with her hooves, her translucent face contorting in alarm. “Now, now, pumpkin! Don’t you worry! I wouldn’t let you go through this alone, not for all the bits in the world! Not after you saved me!” She touched a hoof to her chest. “I’ll stay by your side!” One of Eerie’s ears flicked. She looked at Scarlet skeptically. “Really? Don’t you have to, like, go to the Elysian Fields or something?” Scarlet threw her head back and laughed. “Oh! Hon, now wouldn’t that be something…” She chuckled and shook her head. “Sweetie, I ain’t ready to say goodbye to this beautiful world yet. And so long as you need me, I think I’ll have plenty of reasons to stay.” Eerie gazed at Scarlet quietly. The ghostly mare gazed back, a pleasant smile on her face. “You won’t hurt me?” The foal’s voice was tinny. Fragile. Knowing. Like she’d been hurt—and not in the taunting way of bullish colts, but in the real way. Some unspeakable way. Scarlet’s undead heart twisted with suffering. Such a young thing should be happy and carefree! How could this little filly be so world-weary when she’s barely earned her cutie mark? “I won’t hurt you,” Scarlet said. She touched her hooves to her chest. “You are a friend to me, and I fight for my friends! I won’t let anything hurt you, Eerie Lantern!” “S-So you’ll help me, then?” Eerie asked. She leaned forward just a tad, her gaze searching. Scarlet nodded, a smile blooming wide on her face. “As best I can.” Eerie’s eyes fluttered and she looked down in thought. “And…” She looked up again, her eyes suddenly fierce and bright. “And you promise you won’t leave me alone?” Even then, Scarlet found the question odd. She’d chalked it up to foalish fears. Years later, the words would haunt her deeper than any of the ghosts they’d later encounter. “I won’t leave you, pumpkin. Not willingly. I promise. But!” Scarlet pointed at the teapot, where a slim trail of her smoke could still be seen coming from the spout. “You must keep my teapot safe! And if you want me near you, then you need to find ways to take it with you.” Scarlet sighed and turned over a helpless hoof. “I’m sorry to say that one of the first things I’ve learned about this afterlife is that a ghost cannot go far from its place of haunting. Believe me, I’ve tried. About as far as I can get with the teapot here in the kitchen is to your front fence!” Considering how small Eerie and her mother’s impoverished home was, this was not much. A little under thirty feet radius, really. Eerie looked at the teapot to Scarlet and back. “What happens if your teapot breaks?” Scarlet shuddered, her eyes snapping wide. “Let’s not find out!” She gestured at it. “As far as I can tell, my soul is attached to it! If it is destroyed… It’s possible I could disappear!” “To where?” “Who knows!” Eerie slid from her chair and slowly clopped to where she stood in front of Scarlet. She looked up at the ghost studiously. Milk still dripped from her muzzle from her earlier spill. She turned her head back toward the living room, her ears swiveling as if trying to hear for incoming sounds. Then Eerie looked back at Scarlet, her eyes shining. “I think I know where another trapped ghost is!” she whispered with an air of conspiracy. A little smile was on her lips. Scarlet let out a little sigh, her soul pulsing with relief. Perhaps this afterlife would amount to something after all. Years later, Scarlet guessed it added up to a raging dumpster fire. “Fuck, fuck, where is it?!” Eerie panted as she ran from one side of her tiny cottage to the other. It was a quick trip. If Eerie’s childhood home had been small, this shack was even smaller. You could take ten long steps, starting from the bedroom, and make it through the living room, bathroom, and kitchen/dining room. Probably with steps to spare. Scarlet watched from the kitchen counter with hoof in cheek as her eyes ticked back and forth like she were at a tennis match.  “Eerie,” she said, trying for the umpteenth time to curb her friend’s panic. The dreaded lunch date was upon them. Eerie had barely slept at all, though one would never guess with the amount of energy she was displaying. The clock on the wall said it was eleven-thirty. “I need that cold iron, Scarlet. Where the hell is it?” Eerie ripped open the closet door, only to get buried under an avalanche of true crime books. Again. Scarlet rolled her eyes. “For the last time, I have no idea what you did with that silly trinket. If you want my opinion—” Eerie popped out of the pile, a book on her head. “I don’t!” “The cold iron chain is a load of hooey,” Scarlet finished with a stubborn scowl. “I do wish you would stop buying such superstitious nonsense from the backpage of every rag you read.” “It came with a warranty,” Eerie snapped. She shook the book off her head and rose from the pile, her hooves kicking free. She stepped over the mess to stick her head in the narrow closet. “It’s supposed to render any attack spells against me useless! If it doesn’t work, I get my money back!” Scarlet snorted. “Pumpkin, no offense, but the day you test that chain out is the day you and me can finally see who is the most see-through!” Eerie’s ears pinned, her body going still. “Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.” “There’s lots of things you haven’t thought of, Eerie.” Scarlet gestured with disgust at the trashed living room. Well... living/dining/bathroom. A cottage this small lacked proper walls. Even the tub and toilet only had a mere curtain for privacy. “Like how you’ve made such a wonderful mess again, and your guests are due to arrive here shortly!” “Fuck them!” Eerie snarled with a stomp of her hoof. “I didn’t want them to come anyway!” Scarlet glared, her forelegs crossing. Eerie glanced at her, then groaned. “I know, I know! I’m sorry. I curse when I’m upset!” She scratched at her horn. “Your excuses get more and more tiresome as the years wear on,” Scarlet said primly. “Some habits just need letting go!” She cleared her throat pointedly. Eerie glowered and stopped scratching. “Have you found Thelk, Stix, and Dew Dream yet?” Scarlet’s lips thinned. These were some of the other resident ghosts at Chateau Lantern. Over the years, she and Eerie had found many haunted objects and places with trapped ghosts. Most were quick to move on upon being released from their prisons. Others though… “I’m here!” cheered a little voice. The two mares turned to see a small unicorn colt rise up from the quilted blanket draped over the back of the couch. He was slim, with a cutie mark of two rearing dogs on his flanks. “Can I help?” “No,” Eerie said flatly, turning away. “You’re too cute, Mister D. I need scary.” The colt pouted, his frizzy mane slipping forth to cover one eye. “Oh… O-Okay.” He kicked a hoof through the air. “I mean, I could be scary if I wanted to…” He pushed his lips out in a pout. Scarlet tutted and waved a hoof. “Oh don’t mind Eerie, Mister. She’s just in a tizzy over some guests she’s having today.” Mister—that was, Mister Double—brightened at this. His little body floated to be by Scarlet, his cropped puffball-of-a-tail swishing. “Guests? But I thought Eerie was afraid of the living!” “I don’t trust them!” Eerie said with a sharp look. She was returning the books to the closet in sloppy stacks with her hooves. She avoided using magic when she could. “One of them is a unicorn! They could hex me and take all of my stuff!” Scarlet snorted and swept a hoof over the books strewn across the floor. “Oh yes, like your treasured book collection! We wouldn’t want them carting off with… ” She leaned forward, eyes squinting. “‘Saddle Arabian Stabs: The Stabbening in the Sands.’” Eerie puckered her lips. “Titles were not the author’s strong suit, okay? That book had a lot of good info!” She sighed and glared at the mess at her hooves. “I need a bookcase.”  Scarlet and Mister looked around them. From the front door to the kitchen, there was a careful firelane maintained amidst a sea of trinkets and keepsakes—past haunts for ghosts Eerie had released. “Where would you put it?” the ghostcolt asked with a droopy ear. Eerie’s jaw slanted to the side as she gathered a new stack of books. “Mister, what have I said about being a pain in the—” Then her ears perked, and she looked at him. “Actually, you know how you could help?” Mister flashed forward, a roiling stream of smoke, before rematerializing in front of Eerie. His eyes shone with stars of excitement. “Ooh, how? How?” Eerie pointed across to the closed bedroom door. “Go to my room and look for a loop of chain for me.” Mister saluted, a broad smile on his narrow face. “I’m on it!” Then with a pop, he streamed toward the bedroom and through the door, smoke still curling from the point he vanished. Eerie hollered after him: “And find Thelk, would you?! He’s been hibernating, and somepony refuses to find his dagger.” She stuck her tongue out at Scarlet. The ghostmare wagged a hoof, her ears pinning, “Now see here, missy! I really must protest you involving that sweet colt—” “Ah, ah, ah! Is the uptight belle trying to stop something fun from happening?” A velvety voice could be heard saying from outside the kitchen window. Scarlet’s jaw tensed as she glared in the direction of the voice. “Don’t you dare, Stix—!” Within the next second, a shadowy form stepped through the north wall, dark and blustery, before it coalesced into the lithe form of a tall Abyssinian with a slick pompadour, and a dark jacket with zipper pockets. Even in his ghostly form, it was clear that in life he’d had dark fur, with light splashes on his face, paws, and tail tip. Stix. The bane of Scarlet’s undead existence. Of all the ghosts to stick around, they had to find the most insufferable cat burglar to haunt their backyard. His haunting was an axe, which Scarlet had insisted be kept outside in the shed. Sadly, his spirit could still reach most of the house. It always galled Scarlet how he was able to travel further from his haunting than she could. Stix twirled a whisker and winked a slitted eye at her. “Don’t I dare what, doll?” “Oh go back to rusting that axe, you filthy cat!” Scarlet bit at him. “The last thing Eerie needs is you exacerbating the problem!” “Exacerbate?” Eerie was looking at Stix with wide eyes. “No… No way! Why didn’t I think of it before?” “Because whatever it is no doubt is a terrible idea!” Scarlet cried, flying in front of Stix with an expression of horror. “Eerie, you aren’t thinking straight. You’ve barely slept—!” Eerie walked right through Scarlet, making the ghostmare gasp. “Rude!” “Stix!” Eerie said, her eyes trained on the smirking Abyssinian. “Hey, you’re really good at teleporting, right?” He chuckled, examining his claws at arms length. “Oh, you know it, babycakes!” Eerie trotted on the spot. “When I give you a signal, can you knock stuff over around the house to scare some mares that are visiting me today?! I want them so scared, they tell everypony to leave me the hell alone!” She gestured at Scarlet. “So far, the only help I have is Scarlet, and all she can do is howl—” “For the last time, I do not howl!” “—And I can’t risk her being in the same room, because apparently one of the mares can kinda sense ghosts.”  Eerie paced on the spot, her expression contorting with another rise in anxiety. “I can’t find Thelk or Dew Dream, and Mister Double wouldn’t be any help because everything he does is adorable!” “I’m telling you, I can be scary if I want to!” Mister yelled from the bedroom. Eerie looked at Stix with bright eyes. “But you might be able to move fast enough that the unicorn wouldn’t sense you! She won’t be scared unless she doesn’t see it coming, and you’re my best bet for that!” Scarlet pressed a hoof to her forehead. There were days she swore she could feel a headache again. “Eerie, please don’t involve that crook. You know he always ends up asking—” “For his fair due,” Stix finished with a flashing look at Scarlet. To Eerie, he purred, “My little pony, I’d be more than happy to assist with whatever you need…” He steepled his fingers. “But you know my usual price!” Eerie sighed, her ears drooping. “One whole day?” she mumbled. Stix gave her a fanged smile. “One… whole… day.” He looked up innocently. “Though, it’s been a while since you’ve let me possess you… Perhaps, mmm…” He looked at her again and winked, his smile morphing to a smirk. “Two whole days instead?” “That is ridiculous!” Scarlet spat. “Not to mention dangerous. Your spirits could meld together!” They’d seen it happen. Once. It hadn’t been pretty. Stix pouted, his tail lashing once behind him. “It doesn’t have to be consecutively. We can space the days apart!” Eerie sat, one hoof rubbing her chin. “Hmm…” Scarlet drifted to the unicorn’s side, her hooves pressing together anxiously. “Eerie Lantern, now you listen to me… I am telling you this isn’t worth it! Remember the last time Stix possessed you?” The cat blew a raspberry behind her. “Whaaat? She had fun!” Scarlet shot him a glare before saying to Eerie: “He spent all your bits! Not to mention you were hungover for days!” And then, because she couldn’t contain her ire, she muttered, “Honestly! I don’t know why you don’t just get rid of him!” It was a critical mistake. Eerie’s gaze darkened. “I don’t shatter spirits,” she said through tight lips. Her voice had gone flat, but shaky, like something was fighting to make itself heard. Scarlet’s face paled. She hadn’t meant to open this wound. It had just been a slip of the tongue! “Eerie—! N-No, pumpkin, that’s not what I meant—!” Eerie looked at Stix, her ears perked. “All right. You can have two days, but they can’t be consecutive.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m hiding my bits from you! Got it?” Stix purred, his arms crossing. “I got it.” He looked at Scarlet, one brow arching as a cheshire grin spread across his furry face. “Leave it all to your ol’ pal, Stix…” Scarlet sagged, her form dimming. She looked at the clock. Eleven-forty-five… Voices from the past swirled in her smoke, leaving her weak with guilt. “S-So you’ll help me, then?”  “As best I can.” “And… And you promise you won’t leave me alone?” Scarlet Orange sighed. She had failed Eerie before. Never again.  “Eerie, when do you want me to start my performance?” she asked quietly. Eerie looked at her. Her gaze was softer now. She smiled. “I knew I could count on you, Scarlet.”