//------------------------------// // Chapter VI – Dead to Rights // Story: Grave Matters // by Gulheru //------------------------------// It was cold. It was so cold. It was so unbelievably and unpleasantly cold Ditch simply had to do something about it! Outrage! Outrage manifested in opening his eyes first. Not that it helped with temperature, but at least he could tell where this unbearable chill was coming from! Firstly, a specter was watching over him. Visibly distraught over whether he hadn’t just died and joined him on the other side of the Great Unknown. Great Unknown Kinda Lately Known, actually. Interesting, to say the least, a dead bloke not wanting another bloke dead. Endearing, even, Ditch would say. Secondly, Free Verse not only looked worried, but was visibly preparing to do something that every reasonable pony would attempt in such a situation. For he leaned in, his eyeless voids warm, gentle. Intense. His expression was one of caring and his lips were closing in, in search of Ditch’s own. Ready to be joined in that most romantic way of resuscitation. ... nope! With the proficiency of a Royal Guard in a muddy training camp, Ditch rolled to the side, skillfully dodging even this life-saving smooching. “Oh!” Free Verse exclaimed in surprise. “Thank Harmony, you’re still alive!” “Yes, but excuse me, honey, I have a headache!” an audible and clear protest was made. “Huh?” Ditch followed the rolling theme with his eyes, which was that much more convincing when it came to disinterest. Especially when conjoined with his sideways, defensive position on the ground. He even quickly located his shovel and covered himself as much as possible with it and the coat. To make absolutely sure no consent was given. “Look, I have my rugged charms but no, I don’t think so. I’m saying ‘no’.” Free Verse stood there for a moment before something of a realization invaded the endless voids that he would call “eyes”. “I wasn’t trying to kiss you! I was trying to revive you!” “Yeah, right! It starts with reviving and ends in the morning with waking up to some very bad choices!” Ditch replied, getting up onto his hooves. “Besides – revive me with what lungs and what air?” The specter hesitated. He was clearly caught red-hoofed, hah! “Well...! I...! I maybe didn’t think of those details, but I panicked! You fell to the ground right as I’ve thrust through you—” “Oh, come on, without even a date first?!” Ditch felt so disappointed. Honestly. He was a romantic stallion at heart. Yes, he really was! True, right now his preferences lay in avoiding such matters in his life, for the sake of focusing on his career. He was a ground-breaker, after all, he needed that dedication and drive to really dig deep and entrench himself in the muck of his work to succeed! He was not looking for romance. Additionally since, well, his shovel didn’t swing that way and he wanted to avoid causing a heartbreak. Even to a poet. Especially to a poet, poor bloke might have done something to himself if that hap— “Eureka!” Ditch shouted aloud, which startled the spirit and possibly all other denizens of the cemetery with this declaration of support for the local chain of small drinking dens. Cute and always making ponies into philosophers sooner or later “I just had an idea!” Free Verse managed to compose himself in record time for a wayward soul. Especially considering former bodies of those were usually doing completely the opposite. “I’m still very confused to ask what it is, but would you... prefer to first get up from lying on the ground or...?” “Nah, that is it!” Ditch pointed out. “... ground?” the phantom asked, looking at him askance. Being eyeless added to the expression, actually, who knew? “Ditch, if this is yet another pun at my unfortunate death, then—” “Oh, shush, stop thinking only about yourself! Or, actually...” Ditch paused, considering. “Actually, think a little bit about yourself. Like, about yourself before!” “... before what?” “The ground!” “... I don’t follow.” Of course he didn’t. Poets were too preoccupied with finding a rhyme to words like “ennui”, “demur”, “nevermore” and “what am I going to eat tomorrow, this is obviously not getting me enough bits to survive” to engage in logical thought! So Ditch had to be more crass. “Lying!” Free Verse put a spectral hoof against his transparent chest. “Why, I’d never! I’m not lying, I don’t even know what you mean!” “Lying!” Ditch repeated, tapping the ground. Again, no reply to his revelation. Obviously. Sigh, alright, he had to take an even more risky and risqué approach. So he tapped the ground more furiously. Suggestively. And when even that did not work... well, he had to use his hips in a steady, repeating motion. Free Verse’s hollow eyes widened just enough to convince Ditch that he will actually spot irises in them... or something else that could spawn out of those dark pits. Come to think of it... if you were gazing into the abyss and it was gazing into you and one of you winked... “Have you gone completely nuts?!” Well, there went Ditch’s concentration. Though the consolation price of the sentence having colloquial language did mean that some progress was made in the case. Still not quickly enough, though. “No, you schmuck, I got an idea about what might have happened before you smashed the ground!” “Smash the gr—was that what this bogging charade was about?!” Free Verse moaned. “Well, you got half the points so far,” Ditch pointed out, lifting himself with the help of his sturdy shovel and enjoying the comforting warmth of the handle. At least she was understanding! Not like the poet. “What is the ‘other half’ about then, Ditch?!” “Alright, calm down, calm down, you’re going to wake the dead! And, please, one is enough... Sheesh, to think one can be so transparent and dense at the same time...” Free Verse tossed his hooves in the air and floated in a circle for a moment. Ditch, proficiently, used the same moment to take a revivifying swig before continuing with his obviously obvious idea that the ghost simply couldn’t grasp. On the account of being a ghost, supposedly. “Right, listen, before you get wraithin’ mad again, I think I got it. Thanks and no thanks to your attempts at kissing me.” “I wasn’t trying to kiss you!” “Sure, cause who can reject this?” Ditch said, striking a pose. A dirty coat, unkempt mane and bloodshot eyes pose. The best kind. “But, enough of that. I think I got it. There was somepony, wasn’t there?” Free Verse was going to continue being mad, of course, but he suddenly stopped in place. Which looked particularly unsettling considering his was the choice to float about and all. And from that look that Ditch had already seen a couple of times, it seemed that he again hit the jackpot. Might have been nice to do so actually, for once. But! He had a distinctive feeling that it would change him for the worse, to be affluent. Had seen it in ponies before. The ghost remained in that suspended state for a while longer. Meant that the hit was hard, accurate and maybe, just maybe it would actually make him find a clue to his death and maybe, maybe, just maybe his currently immobile rump would phase itself right out of this here graveyard! Ah, well, Ditch wasn’t hoping for much, right? And he wasn’t going to get it anyway, as Free Verse looked back at him finally, his face scrunched with focus. “You... you might be onto something, Ditch.” “I hope you don’t mean ‘boozed up’ by that, cause I barely had any.” He took a swig. “Yet. And the night is getting quite late and I still need to actually sleep, you know. Unlike you – very, very willingly!” The ghost shook his head. “Yes, of course, it’s just... I think there must have been... somepony.” “Yeah, exactly. Now, why would we start at somepony and end up on the pavement?” Ditch asked the obvious question... though obviously not that accurate of a question. “Wait, again – why would we start at somepony and end up down under after on the pavement?” No, still not right. “Why would we start at somepony and end up a few hooves over the ground after being down under after on the pavement?” “I grasp what you are saying... somehow, but I don’t think I can grant you an answer yet,” the phantom replied, looking genuinely bothered by that fact. Fantastic, maybe he was ultimately realizing that haunting a cemetery was not the nicest thing to do to a caretaker! Unless, of course, local ponies would be alright with that. Ditch imagined that some crazy folk out there could actually entertain the possibility of having a phantom gallivanting around the graveyard, using his omnip... using his omn... using all the power of the fact that he was dead to liven up the place! But not here! This was a cemetery in Canterlot, for Grog’s sake! And this was Ditch’s own turf. No messing around with it, especially not in the translucent and transparent fashion! Sigh. Big sigh. And a big gulp, which always helped to forget about the melancholy. “Well... at least we’re heading down the right road for you to hit the road,” Ditch pointed out then coughed heartily. The drink got a good kick and it was kicking the liver, alright. “Now, I don’t know about you, but this reliable shovel-driver needs to catch some sleep before tomorrow!” “Yes, yes, I get it, but... what am I supposed to do?” the ghost asked. “I dunno. How about some more meditating on the life’s futility and the like? Aren’t you, poets, all about that?” Ditch pointed out. “Of course, I would happily lend you some of my spiritual aids, but I’m thinking that you might not actually have the stomach for them. Metaphorically and metaphysically speaking and whatnot.” Free Verse rolled his eyes, lamentably acknowledging the point with a skill he was getting progressively more and more proficient in. “Right. Glad I can gift you with some humor at my expense. After all, I always felt like I could just go appear on a graveyard and liven up the place.” “Automatic no!” Ditch screamed in a volume that bothered him much, as it could bother the neighbors. “I’m not one of those crazed folk out there!” “What are you on about now?” “Harmony if I know!” he invoked the name of that strange, perverse goddess that the good padre worshiped. Out of sheer panic. His, not the padre’s. “No livin’ up no place! I’d very much like for this place to stay as dead as they go! With the dead being as dead as they go. Or as they ‘not-go’, cause the dead have no business going anywhere, that’s just pure trouble!” The ghost sighed mournfully, staring up to the starlit heavens. The way only poets could. “I solemnly swear that I have nothing of the kind on my mind. I wouldn’t even know how would I do something like that... Waking other dead? That seems like a terrible idea, even to battle loneliness and existential pain...” “Good!” Ditch celebrated, rising his shovel up towards the same sky, though his approach was far more prosaic. “Or I soberly swear that I will clonk you upside the transparent head.” “Deal,” Free Verse agreed eagerly, shaking said head. “For what it is worth, Ditch... thank you for helping. I know you do it mostly to get rid of me... but that’s alright. I understand.” Ditch put the shovel down, rubbing the warm shaft almost affectionately. For once... that sounded genuinely nice in a non-rhyming way. “Ah, well, you know... I have nothing against you personally, but having a wraith around is a... you know, inconveniencable thing for a caretaker.” “Bless you.” “Pardon?” “Never mind. Still, aside from our usual disposition of bickering, I am glad that you are investing your time and... specific effort nonetheless,” Free Verse added to the praises. “Oh, shucks, come on. Don’t you get sweet on me, phantom,” Ditch warned him clearly once again. “I can summon headaches when I wish!” “I can see you are trying hard already,” the poet pointed out, having in mind the blatantly obvious. Ditch shrugged. “Just in case, you know... One never knows when an amorous apparition will pop up and try to wake you up, both outside and inside.” “Wake you... no, no... wake me up inside...” Free Verse parroted strangely. The voids in his head squinted. “I think I’m onto something. I... might sit by my grave until the morn, I suppose, and see if I could occupy myself with some mental composing... even if I don’t have any ghostly ink and quill.” “Whatever suits Your Evanescence,” Ditch responded, shaking his head. This lad had taken his craft to his grave and beyond. Talk about dedication. “In the meantime, my spirit... and I, actually, will go and sleep this cold off. It’s getting chilly.” The ghost just continued mumbling, almost completely unaware that he was being left alone to his floating about. “Spirit... sleeping somewhere cold.” “Save me...” Ditch asked of the jewel in the bottle, once again indulging. Just to keep himself nice and floating about, in a much more material way, back to his shack. “Night, Free Verse.” “Good night wish to you, Ditch...” the phantom replied, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t make sense...” He was left behind to his confused craft. Soon enough, a whole field of calm and static stiffs, marked neatly with stones, were separating the two. Ditch managed to stumble into his shed and close it up. He sighed. He felt older by four years and it wasn’t even two nights. At this rate, he would sooner join Free Verse on his side of things than make him leave! He grasped the shovel tighter... but even she felt cold at the prospect. Leaving her at her place of honor and granting her with a little, chaste and reassuring kiss that she definitely granted him full consent for, he lay on his trusted resting place. Mr Bed and Mrs Mattress both happy to see him. He took a deep breath. He was far, far too rooted in reality and sobriety to fully enjoy a thoughtful, meditative rest that night... At least tomorrow he had work to do. Maybe it would take his mind off of all those matters grave. Nah... even Ditch knew that wasn’t something which was going to just die easily.