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// You Have Nothing to Fear... 
// Story: Rainbow Dash's Awesome Nightmare Night Haunted House Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Adventure 
// by TheDriderPony 
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The silver door swings open with barely a touch, revealing a grand ballroom. Not as grand as the ones in Canterlot—the house isn't nearly that large—but easily big enough to fit thirty or forty pairs of dancers with room on the side for tables.

You know this because that's exactly what the room is filled with. 

Almost a hundred ponies occupy the space, all of them dressed to the nines in ballgowns and waistcoats, and all of them dead. They dance and twirl a few inches above the ground, their pale and translucent bodies sometimes intersecting without reaction. A few who don't dance sit at the tables where they murmur and laugh in small groups. A sense of joviality fills the air along with the sound of a string quartet.

Aside from their fancy clothes, every ghost is wearing a decorative mask that covers their eyes. Venison masks, you think they're called, or something close enough.

Ghostly party-goers aside, there's not much else of interest in the room. It's not even really scary. Maybe it would be for ponies afraid of ghosts or parties or crowds, but you are weak to none of these. If they all turned and attacked you, that'd be a different story. Through their bodies you can see a golden door on the opposite wall and decide to make that your goal. If it's a bad room, you might as well move on.

As you cross the threshold, you feel a tingle of magic dance over your fur like static electricity. The room suddenly gains a rosy tint as a mask like the others' materializes on your face.

You reach up to take it off... but... wait... why would you want to do that? It's a masquerade ball, and it'd be terribly rude to remove your mask prematurely. You shake your head to dislodge the odd compulsion to remove it. You'd better keep wary, there might be magic interfering with your thoughts.

The dancers part before you as you enter their midst, shifting their spins and dips to allow you clear passage. Only once you reach the center of the room do you spy... him. A stallion off the cover of a romance novel. Broad shouldered, shirt unbuttoned, mane like an inky waterfall with a pencil thin moustache and goatee. He smiles at you with gleaming teeth, though his eyes remain hidden behind the golden mask that marks him as the host of tonight's soiree.

"My dear, you look absolutely ravishing." He kisses your hoof, then continues to work his way up your foreleg. "I never dreamed you could clean up so nicely."

You stutter and fail to form a response, caught off guard by his forwardness. He leans in closer, nearly wrapping his neck around yours, and takes a long, deep sniff of your mane. "Mm. Divine."

He straightens again before you can react. None of the other guests seem to have noticed or cared. "Very brave of you to choose to attend a party of this caliber without a suitable dress, most would worry about the rumors." He chuckles. "An amusing attempt to garner my attention, but I'll accept your interest."

He leans into a shallow bow. "Shall I give you the honor of a dance? I'm sure you can manage a simple waltz."

You don't really want to, and in fact the whole one-sided conversation is making you feel weirdly uncomfortable. But even as you move to sidestep around him, suddenly you're in his hooves all the same as the music changes to a three-step melody. He pulls you along into the dance. 

You start to protest, but then have a thought. Maybe this is this room's challenge. You have to beat him at dancing. You're not sure how it connects to Nightmare Night or a haunted house, but let it never be said that Rainbow Dash backs down from any challenge!

You stride forward to the beat, practically pulling your partner along into the next step. Strictly speaking you have no idea how to waltz, but there's a pattern to it that helps you predict his steps and beat him to them.

"Stop trying to lead," he growls as his grip tightens, "you're not suited for it."

Trash talk? Fine by you! That's a field you know how to navigate. "Well one of us has to."

His brow furrows into something ugly as he resists your attempts to spin him. "Stop this. You're making a scene," he hisses.

"Good! I work best in the spotlight." You shoot him a grin. "Feel free to step off if it's too much for you to handle."

In an instant the room goes perfectly silent and his grip turns to iron. Every ghost stops where they are and turn to you in eerie synchronization. A low growl rumbles through the hall and you realize it's coming from your partner. His genial smile is gone, replaced by a furious scowl that warps his handsome features into something cruel and ugly. "No!" he barks, "This is my party! My night! My mare. I am in control for once and I won't have everything ruined by some upstart tart thinking above her station. Orchestra! Start again!"

The music returns, playing twice, maybe three times as fast as before. The ghost dancers swirl about at high speed without difficulty while you find yourself dragged along by your partner's vice-like grip, barely able to keep from falling as you're walked, dipped, and spun against your will.