The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
I’ve lived both in big cities and in small towns, and I think I like small towns the best. In a small town, everyone knows who you are—and as long as you don’t get a bad reputation, people will stop you on the street and talk to you. At restaurants, they know your order, where you like to sit. At the market, the mares wave to you and beckon you over if they’ve got something that they know you like.
On Earth, though, even in a small town it would be a bit unusual for someone to sit down across from you at a restaurant unless invited. That apparently wasn’t a part of pony culture, though.
Once a week, I treated myself to dinner at a restaurant. I was halfway done with my meal when he sat down across from me, and the waitress was right behind him.
He didn’t speak until she’d set his drink in front of him and he’d had a sip. “How’re you finding Haywards Heath?”
I shrugged. “It’s nice.” There were a hundred other things I could tell him, I suppose. How weird it was that the grocery store didn’t sell produce—I had to buy that from the market instead. How plain the walls of my house looked without electric sockets in them. How every day I felt that I’d fallen into a Thomas Kinkade painting. How my smugness over having hands was shattered each and every day when a pony did something I wouldn’t have imagined was possible.
“Sometimes it’s hard to settle in,” he said. “To get used to new neighbors.”
Or ghosts. “Well, it’s quiet where I live,” I said. “Peaceful.”
He nodded, and just then the waitress came by again. “The usual.”
Did local ponies even bother with menus? I hadn’t paid attention, but now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember ever seeing any of them looking at a menu. Was that going to be the moment that I really fit into town? When I sat down and didn’t pick up the menu?
He frowned and for a moment I thought that he was going to criticize my choice of dinner, but he didn’t. He took another sip of his drink instead and let any thoughts that he might have had about my dining choices pass unremarked.
“Milfoil’s a nice mare,” he said.
I wracked my brain for the name. I’d heard it before, I was sure of that, but I couldn’t remember where, and I didn’t want to admit that to him.
“She’s my neighbor.” A last, desperate grasp at a straw.
His eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought I’d failed the test. He’d point an accusing hoof and declare me a fraud, a person not fit to live in Haywards Heath.
“To the south,” he admitted.
“We haven’t talked much. She brought some flowers when I moved in.” I’d put them in a cup until they’d finally wilted. She’d said something about how nice it was to see someone moving in to the house and I’d given a non committal answer.
Maybe she’d talked to him about how sometimes there were lights at really odd hours around my house, or how she’d watched out her window as I stood in the front yard in my skivvies and yelled at the pegasi on my roof. How she’d seen me deep in contemplation as I examined the garden, looking for signs of a ghost. Maybe she was wondering if I wasn’t right in the head, if I had toys in my attic, and in a small town word got around.
Or maybe this had nothing to do with that, and he was trying to be a matchmaker. I hadn’t seen a Mr. Milfoil.
That would have been even more awkward.
Why hadn’t I thought to ask her? Everybody knew that ghosts haunted familiar places, so it stood to reason that my ghost had lived in my house before I’d owned it. Surely she might be able to provide some insight, something that I hadn’t found at the library or the cemetery. Obviously, I couldn’t just go and bluntly say that I wanted to know who the ghost was, but if I was careful in how I worded it, I might get lots of information out of her. Neighbors were always gossipy.
Heck, if the previous owners had left in a hurry because of a haunting, she’d know all about it.
For a moment, the thought of a pony huddled in a box-fort waiting for a ghost to show herself played across my mind. What if the house was indeed cursed, not with a ghost, but with some curse of insanity?
I shoved that thought into the deepest recesses of my mind. I knew what I’d seen, and I wasn’t crazy. Not at all.
Even if the ponies in town thought otherwise.
“Must be a bit different to be living in a pony town. In a pony house.”
“It’s taken some getting used to,” I said honestly. “It’s more quiet and peaceful than a human city.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, most of the time.”
He leaned forward ever so slightly.
“It’s kind of noisy on market days.”
“It is.” He moved back as the waitress brought his lunch. It never got old watching Earth ponies using their forehooves in ways that I never would have considered possible. She smoothly slipped the plate off her back and onto the table with a forehoof with just as much effortless delicacy as a human would have done.
•••••
I wasn’t sure if it was rude to leave while he was eating, so I stayed. I didn’t have anywhere to be; it wouldn’t be dark for a while yet. There was plenty of time to get back home and take a little nap and then change into my ghost-watching clothes. To climb up the stairs and hide in my box-fort. This time I was going to pay particular attention to where she went after she left the house. That might be a useful bit of information for later.
How it would be useful, I didn’t know for sure. I felt like she would be active all night long, and if that was so, she must be doing something when she wasn’t in my house.
Where did she get the teacup from? I could have sworn that it had never been in my house before. It smelled weird; a smell I couldn’t quite place but that I knew I knew. Was she raiding other pony houses? Had she stolen all the toys, too? Had I put a temporary end to her pilfering by blocking the attic stairs?
“Are you all right?”
I blinked back to the present. His plate was empty.
“Sorry. I was just, just thinking. About, um, work.”
It wasn’t a great lie, but it satisfied him. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll pay. And listen: if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks.” I hadn’t expected him to offer to pay for my dinner. Did that mean I was obliged to him? Of course, ponies took friendship very seriously, and he was surely being sincere. “I appreciate that.” I reached over the table and he bumped my fist.
•••••
That night while I was sitting in my box-fort, I replayed our conversation in my mind. It had been nagging at me that he seemed a little bit slow to reply to anything that I said. Like he had to think about it for a moment.
I was probably reading too much into it. He might have been a bit hard of hearing, and heaven knows my Equestrian wasn’t the greatest. Add in some background noise in the restaurant, and it was likely he did have to think about everything I said for a moment. It gave him a bit of a weird vibe, but I was surely jumping at shadows. He was being completely honest about wanting to help me out if there was any help I needed.
What would he have said if I’d told him that I had a ghost? Would have have galloped out into the street to find a pony priest? Did ponies even have priests? Would he think I was crazy? Or would he nod and say that he knew about it already and would I like some help taking care of it?
I didn’t think that I would.
I thought I had things completely under control.
I suppose if I later found myself as a desiccated corpse, I might sing a different tune. Maybe if that happened and I came back as a ghost, too, I could stop by his house and apologize.
There was a brief flash of light through the window, more imagined than seen, and I pressed my face against the rough wood of the box, just in time to see her muzzle poke through the roof.
Going native eh?
Even if shes a ghost its creepy to be all stalkery
9307370
Oops
Technically, he does.
9307390
Well I mean, in a way it is almost making sense: first he realize his hands are not that superior, next he see how good the waitresses’ hooves are, then he get hooves of his own.
It escalated quickly, but it was logical.
You know what's annoying? Thinking you've figured out whodunit only to be proven wrong later...
That stallion knows about the ghost I'd wager, he was building up courage to ask about it.
An HIE that actually looks like something I may read? What alternate universe is this
It's silly to have priests when you can make an appointment to talk to your goddesses in person. And it just gets awkward when Goddesses of Sun, Moon, and Dreams are actually pretty middle of the road as far as major local powers go...
(If word got back to the Princesses somehow Luna would just send a licensed Night Guard spiritual therapist)
9307511
Suuuuuure it does. Next you'll say he only rented that mare to carry boxes for him!
Coolios. Not sure where the "liver" in livery comes from, though. It seemed strange until I read your blog post explaining what it was.
The merry go round goes round and round,
Round and round,
Round and Round.
The Merry go round goes round and round,
Colecting ALL the ghosts.
9307547
Could just be me.
Hope you have a great Thanksgiving.
9307631
Where is that from?
9307577
I've seen "Stir Of Echoes" (1999)!
I didn't know who that is and had to look up the name. You probably meant Thomas Kinkade, Mr Thomas Kincaid has the distinction of being one of the earliest verifiable golfers currently known.
9307570
Don't laugh, but the buyer won.
Pretty much boiled down to the seller previously marketing it as a haunted house, reporting it as such, and even having it as part of a tour, thus making it haunted as a matter of law — so failing to disclose that information to someone who didn't know and would have no reason to ask constituted an unfair contract.
It went back and forth a few times, but ultimately came down in favor of the buyer with a 3/5 decision... so it wasn't unanimous, but it WAS unique enough to be cited widely and taught.
A great line from the majority opinion is:
"Where, as here, the seller not only takes unfair advantage of the buyer's ignorance but has created and perpetuated a condition about which he is unlikely to even inquire, enforcement of the contract (in whole or in part) is offensive to the court's sense of equity. Application of the remedy of rescission, within the bounds of the narrow exception to the doctrine of caveat emptor set forth herein, is entirely appropriate to relieve the unwitting purchaser from the consequences of a most unnatural bargain."
Which, in laymens terms, means "Don't try to hide stuff you KNOW you should tell someone and then expect them to uphold their end of the bargain."
And, because I know you love your research, the case is: Stambovsky c. Ackley 169 A.D. 2d 254 (N.Y. App Div 1991)
9307778
Wrote it m'self, sir.
9308143
Such a good opportunity to introduce a little Hagrid:
Words and all.
9307516 It works better if you run them through a wood-chipper first.
The mob figured that out... cuz Italians are really good at farming.
9308143
Okay, but is it part of a story you wrote, or just a standalone piece? Because if it is the former then I want to know what story it is, and if is the latter then I hope you expand on the idea.
9308385
Nah, it is just a random silly idea I had. Maybe I'd continue it. Maybe.
Honestly I too many other things going on to pick up more stories.
9307526
Unlikely. Piping/line for natural gas for applications like that at the assumed technology level (Victorian) are cast-iron.
9308478
9307532
Disturbing... so librarians are the least likely to believe in ghosts. No help from Purple Smart for this.
Extraneous apostrophe.
9307371
It is, and our protagonist should feel bad about that.
9307413
Yes, he does.
Incidentally, I was thinking of a different song.
9307431
Really, in Equestria, having pony anatomy would be more of an advantage than hands, except in certain edge cases.
9307541
True story, there’s a book called Headhunter by Michael Slade (1986) where I swore up and down I knew who the bad guy was, and in the story the characters there eventually figured it out and arrested him . . . .
And in the very last chapter, readers found out it was someone else, and I actually re-read the book because I was so certain that the author had cheated.
He didn’t.
9307582
Maybe. . .
“I can’t ask that guy if he’s seen the ghost, because if he hasn’t, he’ll think I’m crazy.”
9307619
Not to brag, but when it comes to HiE or PoE, I’m one of the best. Ask anyone.
9307622
Well, that’s true, and that’s why I don’t think that ponies would have religion as we think of it. Because you’re right; any pony could just go up to one of the Princesses and ask all those pesky life questions, and they’d probably answer them to the best of their abilities, and for most ponies that would be good enough.
“Where do we go when we die?”
“Princess said fires of hell for eternity.”
“Oh, okay, good to know.”
I don’t know if Luna has sway over the undead. I think that argument could be made either way.
9307631
That is all that he rented her for. Now, I suppose that in some cities, you could rent livery ponies to perform other duties.
From the part of the original definition of livery that included “allowance of provender for horses.” Which although provender in its strictest sense only means food for animals, along with the other meanings of livery (uniforms/clothes) could be stretched to include tack for horses.
9307683
Every morning you’ve got to scrape them out of the spokes.
9307704
Thank you; I did!
9307820
I haven’t!
9307874
Yes, this is very true. Applies in every situation, really.
9307942
Well, who’s to say that the golfer didn’t moonlight as a painter?
In all seriousness, I thought I’d spelled it wrong, but Google recognized it, so I figured that I was right, and that was a bad assumption to make. I should know better.
It’s fixed now, thanks!
9308079
I think I’d side with the court on that decision, since the seller had marketed it in the past as a haunted house. To my mind, legally neither side has to prove it’s haunted since both sides are making the same claim (that it’s haunted), so the court can accept that as fact and go forward from there, without having to supply expert witnesses or even the ghost. [I think the legal term I’m looking for is a stipulation--where the prosecution and defense both agree on a factual element?]
Which I think is a very reasonable opinion. Could have also come to play in The Trouble with Unicorns II, if I’d decided to have the story go to court instead of where it actually went.
9308321
Well, yeah, that’s obvious. So what you’re saying is if the ghost suddenly shows up with a woodchipper, our protagonist should panic?
9308530
Or copper, which would be much more bendable if one was so inclined.
Flexible hoses of various types are plausible with pony tech at the level I prefer (1870s), although thus far I’ve been unable to find any references to gas hoses used for interior lighting from that time period. As you observed, most often they were cast iron, and both supported the lamp and provided gas to it.
9310241
Well, I wouldn’t say for sure that they don’t believe in them, but I would say that if book forts repel ghosts, libraries are likely to be ghost-free. Despite Ghostbusters’ evidence to the contrary.
9311243
correction made; thank you!
9312978
Perhaps books are kindred spirits of a sort. They were once alive, then dead, then returned to a semblance of life. Sounds like a ghost to me.
9323871
That’s an interesting way of looking at it. By that logic, anything that was killed and then repurposed could be considered to be kindred to a ghost. Like a wooden house, for example.
Second offer.
Mr. Telltale Heart over here is gonna pop within a week...
9331052
5 bits says he knows exactly what's going on.
9345035
He might know more than he’s saying, or he might not. Only time and/or the right questions to him will tell.
9347020
I'm thinking he's more investigating than anything else. Like someone looking for clues of a ghost, chasing rumors. But that's just my gut feeling and I'm probably missing something.