The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
A week of observation went by without learning anything new, aside from that she did use the trowel. In the attic, she played with her toys, and she didn’t breach the box-fort.
I’d left the book downstairs, just sitting out on the blotter on my desk. I’d very lightly drawn in where its corners sat with pencil, which I didn’t think would be obvious at all—I really had to squint to see them. She didn’t move the book, so either she hadn’t found it, or she wasn’t interested in it.
I knew that she’d been in the house proper before, or at least I assumed she had. Cupboard doors hadn’t been opened since I built the box-fort, and there hadn’t been any other changes in the house since I’d done that. While it was theoretically possible that the weight of the box-fort had somehow shifted things around in the house in such a way that the cupboard doors would no longer open as the house settled, that was really unlikely. She’d be the one who had done it; I was absolutely certain of that.
Therefore, the only reasonable explanation was that she couldn’t or wouldn’t go downstairs if the box-fort was in place.
There was no logical reason I could think of why that would be so. Potentially, there could be something in the walls that kept ghosts out, maybe something that wasn’t even there intentionally. My walls were plaster, and I knew that sometimes that was applied to a screen; maybe a fine metal mesh was ghost-proof. Maybe the only way she could get in was the attic.
I’d been keeping the windows closed at night, since it was autumn and it got cool. It was possible that she couldn’t open them. I wasn’t sure why she couldn’t squeeze through the glass if she’d wanted to, but there could have been a reason for it. Maybe glass was also ghost-proof.
•••••
The next thing to do was to move my box-fort off the attic stairs.
Ideally, I would have made a second access route to the box-fort. I could have cut a hole in the ceiling and put up a ladder. Otherwise, I was going to be trapped in my box-fort for as long as she was in the attic.
I didn’t think that that would be a big problem, though. From my observations thus far, she didn’t spend all night in the attic, so after a couple of hours it would be clear to go back downstairs.
It took me half the afternoon to get everything arranged, and by the time I was done, I needed a nap.
Of course I overslept, and by the time I woke up it was dark in the room and I was confused for a moment, then I heard a bumping noise downstairs.
I knew it was her.
I didn’t know how to proceed.
One option would be to slowly and carefully head downstairs and see what she was up to.
The second option was to just stay where I was, maybe pretend to be asleep. Would she come into the bedroom, or did she know I was here? Had she checked already? If I opened the door, would she be suspicious? Would she come in, if she hadn’t yet?
The third option was to get up to the attic and sit in the box fort and wait.
While I was immensely curious, I didn’t know how long ago she’d gone downstairs nor how long she would stay downstairs. If she’d just passed by, she was probably going to be there for a little while, but what if she’d been there for hours already? She might be on her way upstairs even now.
I got to the bedroom door and cracked it open slowly and cautiously, and peered down as much of the hallway as I could see through the gap. She wasn’t there.
I hesitated for one more moment. Now was the difficult part; I didn’t think that she knew she was being observed, but if she saw me climbing into my box-fort, that would give the game away for sure.
Still, I thought I could get into that thing pretty quickly, so I opened the door wide and stepped into the hall. I rushed up the stairs into the attic, glad that I’d thought to pad them. Bare feet on felt make practically no noise, except for the creaking of the hinges on the ladder as I put my weight on it. She might mistake that for noises the house made as it settled.
I hadn’t ever tried to get into my box-fort from the top after dark, which was an oversight on my part. It had seemed obvious enough during the day, but now I was fumbling around feeling for the lid that wasn’t nailed down, getting more and more nervous at the thought that she might be right behind me.
I finally found the correct lid, got partway through, got myself stuck, and had to twist around uncomfortably until I finally awkwardly backed in and pulled the lid shut.
As best as I could tell by the moonlight filtering into the attic, her toys weren’t out. Perhaps as soon as she’d arrived, she’d taken the open trap as an invitation and headed downstairs in lieu of playing with her things.
That probably meant that she planned to spend a good amount of time exploring, and I felt like I’d made the right choice to hide in my box-fort rather than disturb things downstairs.
On the negative side, that meant that I was going to spend who knows how long peering through holes in the box in hopes of seeing something. At least I still had a good bead on the attic stairs.
•••••
Sitting and waiting with nothing to do is boring, something which I had already established from previous nights of observation. This time it felt longer, as I began to wonder if she would come back to the attic after all. Maybe she’d just leave the house from downstairs; maybe my first sign that she was gone would be the sun rising. Assuming of course that she couldn’t be out in the day, which I certainly didn’t know.
I thought I still heard occasional noises from below, but I could have been imagining them. I did get occasional visual hallucinations, likely from the light in the attic shifting just a bit. A cloud scudding in front of the moon, perhaps, or even the brief shadow of a pegasus in flight.
My patience was eventually rewarded when she did come back up the attic stairs. She didn’t walk on them; instead, she just sort of drifted up through the trap.
She paid my box-fort no attention. It could be that she’d already had plenty of time to study it in its new location when I was asleep, or perhaps she’d been distracted by other things.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d just left, but she didn’t. She got a couple of her toys out, and then she also got out a chipped teacup that was smeared with dirt. That was something new, something I hadn’t seen before.
I watched, fascinated, as she had a small tea party with her toys, the cup serving both the role of a teapot and also a communal cup.
•••••
She finally put her toys away and left, and once I was sure she was completely gone, I got out of my box-fort and went to the window. There was an unopened window right by me, and I crouched down and looked through it, in the hopes of getting some idea where she was going.
With some modifications, I could back my box-fort right up to that window, and get a look at her as she left to wherever it was she went. That was something that I should have thought of before.
I didn’t see her in the garden, and if she’d gone straight back home—wherever home was for her—she was long gone.
I should have gone back to bed and gotten some more sleep, but I didn’t. Instead, I went downstairs and got a lantern, and went through the lower parts of the house, trying to figure out where she’d gone.
She’d definitely been in the kitchen; a couple of the cupboards were open again. Maybe she’d been hunting for more teacups to use. She could have taken some of mine, and I wasn’t sure why she hadn’t. Granted, they weren’t a match for the one she had, but would that matter? If she was willing to give that cup dual roles in her tea party, why would she be concerned that my cups didn’t match hers, and weren’t proper teacups?
As far as I could tell, she had not touched Bathtime for Biscuit. It was still sitting with its edges touching my pencil marks.
That was still more information than I’d had before, and I sat down at my desk and considered it. It could be that she didn’t know how to read, although I would have thought that the illustrations in the book would be compelling to her.
That didn’t feel right to me, though. Most of the ponies in town seemed literate, and while I couldn’t rule out that she was a very old ghost, perhaps from before there had been a school in Haywards Heath, it didn’t feel right to me.
She might not have seen it, and that was the most logical explanation. She was too busy with her other explorations. She’d been in the office before and there’d been nothing interesting there, so why check again?
That didn’t feel quite right to me, either. If my box fort had actually kept her out of the house for so long, she surely would have been curious to find out what changes had happened in her absence.
What if it was something really dumb, like she couldn’t read the book because it was too dark?
I mulled that thought over in my mind, and that did seem a possibility. I turned down the lantern wick until it guttered out, and then picked the book up and opened it. If I brought it right up to my face and angled it just right, I could read it, but it wasn’t any fun at all; it was like trying to decipher a puzzle. I could see that being a source of great frustration for her.
Just out of curiosity, I took the book outside. I could read it in the moonlight reasonably well, so that was a possibility she might not have thought of.
9302073
The level of technology and design involved in each is just so radically different. I think of thatched roofs as something on mud huts, while dormers are Victorian or later. But, as I said, that was just a mental block on my part, not a reflection of reality.
9302094
That’s the fun part of doing research! There’s a lot of tech I’ve discovered is far older than I’d thought--fax machines predate telephones, for example.
While thatched roofs kind of fell out of favor in places where they were common when newer roofing materials came along, they never completely went away, especially on the common man’s home. Slate shingles might be fine for an estate or a church, but Joe Average can’t afford them for his farmhouse.
The trap door thing makes it quite clear to me, she is not fully aware of her situation. 'tis simple, ponies cannot pass through solid objects. Thus she, being a living breathing pony, cannot pass through solid objects. Thus she needs to use the trap door. Simple logic.
She's likely rather lonely, and in a fugue state. Have you ever gone to work mid-way through the week, and felt, quite clearly, as if you were just here not ten minutes ago? That's how she feels, as if the days, and weeks, and years have all blended together. On the plus side, it may have saved her sanity, being dead is hard on rational thought.
One of my fav fics atm
I considered for a while that she may have been locked into moving only along paths she could walk as a living being, but then she wouldn't leave through the window.
I'm more and more convinced that she's simply a very well-behaved filly and won't touch things not hers until she can ask for permission.
9302094 Thatch-roofed huts have the disadvantage of not being resistant to beefy-armed dragon burnination.
The other option is that she can only interact with things that she used in life, or with things that were there while she was alive. So "her" tea cup, "her" trowel. Can't go through boxes because they weren't there when she was alive. Something like that. Oh, and it wasn't her book, so she can't pick it up and/or read it.
That being said, if I'm right, then the whole story gets very depressing and I have a sad. So I hope I'm wrong.
9302179
Third option is she a good filly and won’t mess with other pony or people property with out permission.
Hmm. A curious wealth of data, but nothing really conclusive. He may be reaching the limits of passive observation...
9302019
An old and important one that has sadly fallen by the wayside.
9302035
The real reason some spirits avoid garlic and such is that it changes their color and it's embarrassing?
9302063
"Eh, humans. They're all nuts anyway. At least he's not a Party Pony."
9302152
Yep.
Does she paddle her little legs when she floats?
Always the little details.
Besides, the few out-of-body things I've had, everything was dark anyway. Like how Tolkein described ringwraiths seeing things actually, though I don't know if it's a coincidence or my brain painting in what I expected on some level. Would make reading difficult.
I wonder if something more significant or invested in by people (or a specific person) would glow or be clear when everything else wasn't if it works like that.
9302045
Admittedly, the whopping 94% mostly applies to the ones like captain pudgemuffin's ponies, or forga lorga's ponies.
Good thing he didnt try making a second access. Forget a small detail like stairs and he could end up using the elevator.
He needs to build a box fort in his own bedroom, then stuff his bed to make it look like he's still there, and then see if she ever comes near his room.
Though, personally, I think he should reveal himself with casual blatancy. Like, sitting in a rocker, enjoying a good book, in the middle of the attic when she shows up. "Hi-diddly-ho ghosterino!"
great story I love I can't wait to see how they interact with each other
Loving the fic, but the source of the human's finances is a bit of a mystery, such as how he bought the house. Does he have a job? How long has he been in Equestria? We get small references to paperwork in the office, but I don't recall him thinking anything about what he does each day. The fact that he can sleep at home during afternoons suggests he would be working from home, but still... it's a bit of a plot hole.
While I've enjoyed the fic so far, I'd like it more if the plot actually included the ghost as a speaking/thinking character. 'Observing the ghost' is starting to get overly repetitive, to me.
9302080
Pretty much what you said there, but a case does not actually require remunerations. A court can, in cases where no 'law' was broken but the effect upon the victim was traceable, assign punitive damages. These can also be doled out when a defendant was grossly negligent, willfully committed (or did NOT commit) a particular act, violated statutes/ordinances, or anything that the judge feels was abhorrent enough to deserve punishment rather than just returning the victim to their proper state.
But yheah, the jist of a case boils down to restoring the victim to their previous state or, in grievous cases, to additionally penalize the originator of the harm. Of course, all of that is based on US case law and has zero weight in Equestria unless the locals choose to recognize it (or there are political agreements in place).
Ain't law fun?
Edit: And that's completely ignoring torts. Sorry, I forgot about them because they seem like common sense.
This is a very nice story so far.
breach
9302411
HNNG!!! My heart!!! Are you tryin' to turn ME into a ghost?!?
Silly ghosty filly.
9302075
When there's magic and less physics than should exist, shapes go right out the window
Yeah the Ponyville houses are some of my favourite in mlp because they're so organic almost as if they're actually alive and just have growths like trees or something.
I like how box-fort is used as a serious plot point and not just some gimmick
If her entry into the attic is marked by a glow, I was guessing the ghost emits a glow. Would that not enough to read the book by?
9302153
Thanks!
9302152 9302179 9302223
Man, y’all are good! I really can’t make specific replies without spoilers, but let’s just say that y’all are making a lot more progress at solving the mysteries of her behavior than our protagonist is.
9302187
Actually, you’d be surprised to know that thatched roofs are at least as fire resistant as asphalt shingles, if not more so. Assuming that they’re built properly, of course.
9302251
Well, she’s already going into the house without asking the new owner, but of course whether or not a pony would consider that trespassing is kind of open to debate.
9302307
He hasn’t quite reached the limit, but he’s certainly getting close to learning all that he can by watching.
9302411
Ooh, that’s a possibility.
Ponies shrugging and saying ‘it’s a human thing’ feels like a very pony attitude to take.
Yes, in a sort of cross between a pony paddle and a walk (even when she’s not touching the ground).
I can’t say that I’ve had any out-of-body experiences, but I do think that what you expect them to be like probably does influence how you perceive them. I would imagine that when your brain is trying to make sense of a new experience, it would typically draw on other experiences it had (whether that be from personal experience, other people’s experiences, or reading/movies/etc.). To my knowledge, our brains like fitting things into known patterns.
I think if it did, he’d be unlikely to be able to see it, but maybe. If it works on the same kind of properties as a magic glow, for example, it might be visible to the protagonist, whereas if it operated on some other level, like scent, he might not be able to see it.
9302428
This is true. However, it’s also true that there’s a bit of cat in ponies, especially pegasi.
9302574
Yeah, cutting unprotected holes in the floor is always a bad idea, even if you think you’ll remember that it’s there. I always got nervous when we had the traps open on the stage, just because of the possibility of falling through (they typically didn’t have any kind of rails or anything around them).
9302687
He could hide under the bed. That would be delightfully ironic, him hiding under the bed to watch for monsters.
She wouldn’t be expecting that.
9302711
Thanks! And you’ll find out in a couple more chapters how they interact with each other.
9302712
He does have a job, although he has not ever said what it is. It’s a morning job. He normally doesn’t think about what he does every day, at least in the sense of narrating the story, as I think would be the case for most people. Unless you’re actually talking about your job, that is.
They’re gonna interact pretty soon--there are a couple more things our protagonist wants to observe before he gets to that point.
9302801
Actually, it’s funny that you mention there not needing to be remuneration . . . when I was in college, the landlord and I got into a fight that wound up in court with him being the one to bring suit to evict me. I had a counterargument that was all the things he’d done that were questionable, and the judge ruled that I had to leave at the end of the month, and that the lease was annulled with no penalty to either party, which I think was a good ruling.
9303855
Thank you!
Correction made; thank you!
9304028
She does paddle her little legs when she floats.
9304099
Is she the silly one, or is the protagonist with his box-fort the silly one?
9305399
Organic in the sense that some pony just tacked on a feature because he or she wanted it, rather than actually planning it with an architect. Still, there’s something to be said about that kind of construction. And I do also like that design aesthetic. It’s maybe not entirely realistic with real-world physics, but to my mind it really fits the ponies.
Well, at least one of them was.
TheRedBrony said in one of his stories--and I stole it for one of mine--that the reason for all the curved beams and stuff was that instead of trying to shape trees to fit their houses, they shaped their houses to fit the trees they had. So if you had a curved branch, you turned it into a curved beam.
9305409
Hey, the box-fort is an important observation post. If nothing else, our protagonist could go into a consulting business around box-forts.
That’s actually something I (and by extension, our protagonist) hadn’t thought of. Yes, it probably would be.
She might only be able to interact with stuff she could interact with in life. Hmmm...
9323922
You might be on to something there.
He's still not asking the right questions...
9331046
He really isn’t. He should just get over himself and ask the right questions, and then maybe he’ll get the right answers.
There was an old fable like that. Three brothers trying to build a flying boat. As each one did, a gnome or something came along and asked what they were making. The first said barrel staves, so that’s what he got. The second, I don’t remember, but it was equally wrong. The third one said a flying boat, and so the gnome built one for him.
9331310
Maybe he should just get over himself and ask her those questions
9984988
It wouldn’t be the worst idea for him to try.