//------------------------------// // Ch. 1-1: A New Home // Story: Seeking A Quiet Afternoon // by Tired Old Man //------------------------------// A small rolling suitcase could be heard skipping along stones on a dirt road. This sound was faint, however, compared to the thudding hoofsteps of its carrier as a stallion walked along the winding path leading to his new home. He passed by a large fence, beyond it a forest of apple trees as far as the eyes can see. For some reason those apples looked particularly appetizing, as if these same apples have pleased the mouths of the nearby townfolk for many generations. Considering the size of the place from what he could see, there was no doubt his thoughts were accurate on that matter. The stallion had arrived quite early as the moon still floated in the sky, though only just so. The purplish-pink sky above lit up with bright stars signaled a new day on the horizon sometime soon. It was refreshing to see the skies so clear here compared to Fillydelphia, where smoke and light pollution were so rampant one would be lucky to see even a single star up above. He could get lost staring at the sky for hours, but he had a more important purpose of locating the shack he bought somewhere near his location. The stallion couldn't believe his luck stumbling across that ad in the Filly Tribune. 100 bits for a small shack on the outskirts of a peaceful town? One might as well have told him he won the Canterlot Lottery while they were at it! He couldn't suppress a small chuckle to himself at the thought, still baffled that the price in that ad wasn't a joke. That chuckle stopped, however, as soon as he laid eyes on the shack. Suddenly, that hundred bit pricetag was beginning to seem accurate instead of a dealmaker. The shack, if one could even call it that, stood at the top of a small hill. One would easily wonder when it would topple, as it seemed apt to anytime soon. All the wood on this shack was old and greyer than the coat of the stallion, looking to be well over 200 years old...with no signs of significant upkeep. It had a small attic with a round window at the top, two of the quarter-panels broken. The front looked no better, having a small grey wooden porch with two half-steps leading up to it. The front door was...intact, mostly. It had apparently been kicked in at least once, as it hanged loosely on just one of its two hinges. The window to the right of the door was broken as well, with the curtains inside catching the outside breeze. Abandoned was the first thought that came to mind. His stomach curled at the thought of finding something in there he didn't want to see. What if there was some horrible monster hiding in it? Would there be bones lying around inside, or worse yet, a fresher corpse of a victim? Fear gripped his mind for a moment before he shook it off in disgust. It was all crazy, irrational, and stupid to think this way. With freshly renewed confidence, he trotted up to the shack. The steps groaned and creaked under the stallion's weight as he ascended onto the porch. A light push from his forehoof opened the door to a dark room. He stopped and opened his suitcase, fumbling around until he found a small flashlight. He turned it on and grasped it in his mouth, then proceeded into his new home. The interior looked marginally better compared to the initial exterior view, by the stallion's standards. A small kitchen was to his right, with decent countertop space, a sink, and cabinets lining the countertop below and the space above it. It came complete with a round dining table and three chairs in the center of the room. He briefly wondered why there wasn't a fourth chair at the table, but didn't think too hard on that matter. A glance to the left revealed the living room, complete with an old, dusty sofa backed up against the wall adjacent to the kitchen. The stallion kicked it once, and a large cloud of dust flooded the air. A brief fit of coughing followed soon after. As he walked away, he set his suitcase next to the wall with the set of stairs leading up to the attic. He checked the stairs at the back of the house, with two doors near it. He opened the first nearest the steps to find it leading down into a basement. The flashlight suddenly began flickering as it shone down into the basement, forcing the stallion to shake the light a bit to get it working. "Damn thing," he spoke to himself, "It's always bugging out on me at the worst of times." It shined solid after more rigorous shaking, and at that point he shut the basement door, opting instead to check the other door to the right of the basement. It revealed a small bathroom. A very small bathroom. There was barely enough room to stand in it, much less move around easily. It had a dusty mirror hanging over a sink, a toilet off to the left of the sink, and beyond that a small shower. None of this looked to be used within months, and a small feeling of dread bristled the stallion's mane hairs. The owner of this house clearly hasn't been here in months. This place looked abandoned in every sense of the word, and the stallion began to wonder if he should even stay in here at all. No sooner had that thought completed in his head when he caught a shadow moving in the corner of his eye. He wasn't alone.