• Published 21st Oct 2014
  • 1,398 Views, 47 Comments

Terror Tales of the Farm - Yoshi89

Join the Apple family as they wrap up Nightmare Night by telling three scary stories.

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Author's Note:

EDIT: Few corrections fixed.

The dimly lit homes and lantern-adorned streets of Ponyville together could not match the bright spirits of Nightmare Night festivities. Costumed colts and fillies counted their sweets and bits after their trek from house to house, undaunted by the playful laughs and screams from an after party at nearby Sugarcube Corner. If she wanted, Pinkie Pie, thrower of the liveliest parties in Ponyville, could make it last all the way until Celestia raised the sun the following morning. But alas, when Pinkie Pie in her zombie makeup and tattered clothes—much to the disgust of Rarity in her ghost bride costume—stepped on the counter, it had to end. Perhaps the most upset of the crowd was the youngest pony in her cute little green inchworm costume.

"Aww," the filly begged as the party-goers filed for the exits, "Pinkie Pie, can't we go another hour, please?"

"Sorry, Apple Bloom, no can do." Pinkie shook her head, her dyed black mane bouncing every which way. "You have school tomorrow. Can't have you falling asleep in class."

"She's right, little sis. I got a busy day ahead of me, too," Applejack, dressed in witch's robes and a crooked hat in place of her Stetson, agreed.

"Eeyup," Big Macintosh in his plate mail armor affirmed, sliding down the hinge on his helmet.

The three farm siblings thanked Pinkie Pie and the Cake family before heading out of Sugarcube Corner for the night. Big Mac hooked his trusty lantern's handle over his helmet and guided his sisters across Ponyville's cobblestone paths, his armor clanking with each step. The town draped in its post-Nightmare Night attire looked dark and gloomy, save for a hooded pegasus colt once armed with eggs getting the scare of his life. No apologies in all of Equestria could have saved the young prankster from the wrath of angry parents and a justice-seeking homeowner. They ignored the commotion and continued their walk out of town, passing through the nearly bare trees of their orchards and letting the fiery leaves crunch beneath their hooves. Finally, they arrived at their farmhouse, no lit windows to greet them as they halted at the desolate front porch.

"I reckon Granny Smith went to bed," Applejack said with a shrug.

"Ee-nope," Big Mac spoke, muffled through his helmet.

"Come again, big bro?" Apple Bloom asked him. Her brother relaxed the lantern on the ground, lifted his helmet and then pointed to the front door.

"Ee-nope," he repeated more clearly. Applejack trotted over to the doorway where a note lay attached to the knob. She snatched it to hold underneath the moonlight and read it out loud.

"Meet me in the storm cellar. Love, Granny."

"The storm cellar?" Apple Bloom wanted to know. "Why would Granny Smith be there of all places?"

"Let's get outta these costumes first," Applejack suggested, "then we'll find out."

The three farm siblings retreated inside and took but a few minutes to change out of their Nightmare Night costumes. Applejack helped her brother slide his horse collar back around his neck who unzipped Apple Bloom out of her inchworm disguise. They then trotted back outside to where the hens slept peacefully in their huts. They slowed to a near tiphoof as they passed the last hut in the row where two gigantic wooden doors rested on the ground on the other side. Applejack bit the handle and pulled it all the way open with her earth pony strength, jumping out of the way before it slammed to the ground.

"Granny Smith?" Applejack called down. "You in there?"

"Come on in, y'all!" squealed Granny Smith from the depths of the storm cellar.

Big Mac guided his sisters down the steps and placed the lantern dead center in the room. The dim rays shone gently on their grandmother who rocked steadily in her chair with a toothless, yet existent smile.

"Have I ever told y'all 'bout the tale of 'The Body that Quit'?" Granny Smith inquired.


"Can't say I have."


"Oh, it was terrible!" Granny Smith clasped her face in mock fright, accidentally knocking over her walker. "When the arthritis kicked in, the hips could no longer move on their own! The poor body was doomed to bedrest and-"

"Gran?" Applejack interrupted the tale. "What are ya doin'?"

"Ain't that how y'all tell a scary story?"

"Uh, Granny," Apple Bloom sighed, "that ain't scary. It was just weird."

"Wait 'til ya get to be MAH age, young 'uns," Granny scolded her grandchildren. "If growin' old won't scare y'all, Ah don't know what will."

"That's why ya called us over?" Applejack fished the note from underneath her Stetson. "You were gonna tell us some stories?"

"It's still Nightmare Night, ain't it?" Granny Smith leaned forward in her rocking chair. Any wider of a grin on her face and her dentures may have popped out of her jaws, sending the other three ponies in the cellar sprinting for their lives.

"But Big Mac and I have ta prepare for cider season tomorrow," Applejack reminded her.

"And it's a school night," Apple Bloom added.

"Oh, what harm could it do?" Granny Smith cast off their excuses. "Nightmare Night's still young. Y'all still have time for one more scare at least."

Her grandchildren shuffled in front of her on their haunches. "I reckon there's no harm in that," Applejack said finally.

"Then I've got a good one for y'all." Granny Smith leaned forward in her chair. "One that's not about growin' old. Listen close..."