Chapter 16
The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
Most of the weekly market revolved around food, and while it had taken me a while to get used to that idea, it was actually a lot of fun to shop like that. I got to talk to ponies I might not have otherwise, and all my food was farm-fresh. There were some staples that the general store had, but for anything fresh, the market was the place to go.
But that wasn’t the only thing that they sold. Lots of ponies had little cottage industries of their own, and so you could buy soaps and candles and wooden plates and wicker baskets—in fact, if you came by early in the day, you could order a wicker basket to your specifications and it would be done by the time market closed. I spent a lot of time watching the wicker mare working, skillfully bending and weaving her creations.
Some ponies also sold second-hand goods, and it was there that I got an inspiration. One of them had a stuffed pony that looked a lot nicer than the one she had. The eyes were nice and shiny, there weren’t any obvious repair stitches, and even the plush was still silky-smooth.
I knew full well that a new toy would never take the place of a beloved toy, but at the same time, I thought it might be a good peace offering, so I bought it and added it to my day’s purchases.
I wasn’t sure where to leave it. Right in the center of the room, while obvious, might also appear to be a trap. Then again, I wasn’t sure if she’d see it that way, and sometimes the simplest solution was the best, after all.
But, if she thought it was a trap when it was open and obvious, I wouldn’t get a second chance at it. She’d think it was a trap no matter what I did with it after that.
So I thought that I’d start by sort of hiding it. I knew that she explored boxes—her toy box was a prime example of that—so I could put it in a box, ‘forgotten,’ and see if she took it. If she didn’t, then I could consider something else.
I found a box downstairs that was way too small for me to fit in, just in case it had occurred to her that I might be hiding inside a box to surprise her.
That wasn’t the only thing in there. I put it on top of some of my winter clothes, and I paid attention to exactly how everything was sitting, lest she decide to rummage through the box and then put things back when she was done. In hindsight, that was a silly idea, but it made sense to me when I did it.
I went up to check on the box every day, around lunchtime. I figured that no self-respecting ghost would be out in broad daylight, not even in an attic.
She didn’t take the bait.
•••••
As strange as it sounds, I missed the ghostly noises at night. They’d been creepy and unnerving before I knew what they were, but now that I did know, the house felt lonely without them.
On occasion I’d look at her other toys, just to make sure they were in the same place they’d been. Just in case she decided she wanted to move them farther away from me. I didn’t think that she knew that I knew that they were there, but then she’d hidden them which suggested that she didn’t trust that nobody would take them from her.
I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had, and if I’d gone up one afternoon and they’d all been gone, at least that would be some closure.
Was she looking for a new house to haunt, having found this one untenable? Maybe she had, and maybe that was why she didn’t want her toys any more. Maybe she’d gone somewhere else that had better toys for her to play with, but in case she hadn’t, I made sure that the dormer window stayed wide enough open to let her pass.
Down in the yard, her trowel remained untouched as well. I checked on that, too; surely that was something she could grab quickly and get away with if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t.
I could write her an apology note, and I could put it under the trowel. Maybe she’d see it, maybe she’d read it—if she could read. Or maybe she wouldn’t; maybe it would get rained on and ruined.
I wished that I knew who she was, and I wished that I knew where she was when she wasn’t at my house, and I wished that I hadn’t scared her off.
•••••
Even though it wouldn’t accomplish anything, I went around the cemetery again, just in case I’d missed something I should have seen the first time around.
I found nothing that felt right. Granted, I could still be missing the obvious; I could have looked at her grave multiple times and just not known, but I was sure I hadn’t.
Back on Earth, or even in Equestria before the ghost, I would have thought I was being silly to think that I might somehow know what grave was hers. She could have died dozens of years ago or more; any graves of young ponies could be the right one. Especially since their names didn’t seem to be gender-specific. But back before I’d moved to Haywards Heath, I’d had no belief in the supernatural, and now I did.
I felt that if I’d only had a camera and taken a picture of her—assuming that it showed up on film—I could have showed ponies in town and they probably would have recognized her. Without that, though I had no real evidence to show, just my word. And I knew full well that the word of a transplant to town wouldn’t carry very much weight, not without either evidence to back it up, or a predisposition by a pony to believe what I had to say.
If I only knew her name. I didn’t know if she could speak, but I knew she could hear, and I thought that I could call for her. Even if she was too wary to approach me closely, she might approach close enough that I could plead my case, that I could beg for forgiveness.
I wasn’t going to learn it in the cemetery, and another few afternoons in the library didn’t turn up any promising leads, either.
Nothing in the attic had been touched since I’d scared her off, nor had I seen any new evidence of nighttime gardening.
•••••
My house felt emptier without her, which was strange. It was no more empty than I thought it had been when I moved in, and yet, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that houses in Equestria carried something with them, something that I’d broken with my stupid actions. When I walked down the street and saw my house among all the others, it looked cold and lonely and uninviting, and that was something that I’d never noticed before.
Maybe it was just familiarity setting in, and maybe a little bit of the idea that the grass was greener on the other side of the fence—maybe if I’d instead bought Milfoil’s house, I would be thinking the same thing when comparing that to the house I’d actually bought.
I was going to have to ask around in town. And there were two ways to do it. The first, the one that hadn’t been successful thus far, was the subtle way. Ask loaded questions, vague questions, do my best to obscure my line of questioning. Of course, I knew full well that all I’d get in response were vague answers, or something completely off-topic, and while there were probably people skilled at reading between the lines, I wasn’t one of them.
Milfoil would be the obvious choice. Since she lived right next door, she’d be the most likely to have observed the ghost before, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I still was worried that I was the only one who’d seen it, either because ponies couldn’t, or because I was crazy. She wouldn’t want to know that she was living next to a crazy person, that would keep her up at night wondering what crazy thing I might do next.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought the old stallion would be my best bet. He’d said more than once to come to him if I needed anything, and he also seemed just a little bit off to me. Maybe it was age; maybe his memory wasn’t as sharp as it had been, or maybe he was a little bit crazy himself. He might be willing to believe, anyway.
It was a pity that ponies didn’t have phone books; still, it was a small town, so it wouldn’t be any trouble to find him.
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Sorry about the recent delays; I’ve had a bunch of stuff going on IRL.
I’ll publish another chapter tomorrow night to help make up for it. 
So without her, the house is feeling a little.... dead?
9340010
How did that play go by the way?
one
Wicker baskets... WICKER BASKETS!! DEAR GOD, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE BEFORE THEY GET THE BEES!!
big.assets.huffingtonpost.com/tumblr_lzdjy2aDiu1r2pxgdo1_400.gif
Oh god, poor Boo. She's probably scared, wherever she went.
Turns out he's a zombie. Not the eat-your-brain kind, but the shambles-around-aimlessly-looking-for-something-they-can't-quite-place-their-hoof-on kind. The town kinda' has an undeath problem, and our protagonist is the weird outsider in that he's not a corpse.
Milfoil is a "bunnicula." She sucks the juices right out of poor, defenseless vegetables.
9340010
No problem at all dear author. RL takes priority over hobbies. I'm just grateful you update as quickly as you have been. I'm lovin' this story!
A hole in his heart he didn't know needed filling...
Rarity has an Idea and tries a willow weave punk Tux. She decieds to call it the Wicker Wicker Wild Wild Vest?
Is Boo even hiding out in a squirrel nest somewhere in Equestria or gone totally?
I presume the protagonist doesn't know Twilight well enough to rock up and say "Hey Twi, you know pretty much everything and there's a lot of stuff here which was only fictional where I'm from, so I was wondering - are ghosts a real thing here? Because I think I saw a weird light moving around my garden the other night, and couldn't figure out where it was coming from, so I thought I'd check with you before automatically assuming there was a nonmagical explanation."
And sure, Twilight's going to suggest fireflies and maybe will-o-the-wisps and even random ponies with lanterns walking past, but somewhere in all of that she'll probably give a yea or nay on the ghost thing.
9340010
No worries. Hopefully you have hot water by now. When you mentioned where your pump problem was up to I was left thinking "Dang, there's just so many possibilities for that situation... bad/blocked venturi, stuck foot valve, bad one-way valve (if present), pump impeller/seals issue, air in the system... just endless without being there to see more."
Hope work has calmed a bit as well... but I doubt it would as this is one of the busiest times over here for mechanics as people try to get their cars ready for Christmas travels at the last minute or breakdown when they start their travels without doing any prep.
9340016
I was going to say that the house seems a bit soulless now or that he seems a bit dispirited... but you beat me to the pun...
9340465
And that, of course, would be... beating a dead horse.
9340365
He doesn't live in Ponyville.
9340467
And that would always be... a grave mistake...
9340024
It was hilarious.
9340492 The kind of error that could haunt you for years.
"So... this is going to sound crazy, but I think my house was haunted—"
"Darn it, why couldn't you have waited another day? I'd bet ten bits you wouldn't ask until tomorrow. Basket Weave's gonna be insufferable all week. ... Wait, did you say was?"
9340519
These jokes are giving me chills...
9340472
Haywards Heath, yah. I was basing it more on him mentioning Twilight in an earlier chapter, so I guess I had gotten the impression that he could at least contact her. But reading back, it was more a mention in passing that she existed and was a powerful unicorn, nothing more.
This is kind of a bitchy thing to point out, but "awhile" is a romantic abbreviation of "for a while". So the quoted text above literally reads, "Most of the weekly market revolved around food, and while it had taken me for a while to get used to that idea, it was actually a lot of fun to shop like that."
Well... he still has his kneecaps. I'd call that a good non-development!
9340519
I don't know how long I can put up with such ghastly jokes.
(oh god, it's "The Donutier" all over again)
9341736 Well, he did spook the poor thing.
9341736
What's so bad aboot puns? If they leave you in good spirits then they are without a shadow of a doubt a soul source of merriment. Though I think I may have to shade myself from any incoming incorporeal punishment.
This is quickly taking on a somber tone...
9340016
Yes, yes it is.
9340024
Quite well, actually. There were no major disasters, and we just got the financial report and we actually made a profit, which is always nice. Good audience, and the jokes mostly went over well, and not too many lines were forgotten or entrances missed.
9340063
Bees, you say?
You’re not going to like one of my upcoming fics.
9340094
Terrified, in fact--some monster just sneaked up behind her and yelled at her.
9340027
Correction made; thank you!
9340120
The good news is that with the application of sharp pointy objects, they can fix that for our protagonist.
I can totally buy a pony bunnicula, actually. Maybe next time I see Larson, I’ll suggest it to him.
9340216
Thank you!
9340234
Exactly! A cute ghost-sized hole, in fact.
9340306
Wicker Wicker Wild Wild Waistcoat.
You can’t get rid of ghosts forever just by scaring them off; it takes something else to make them move on.
9340365
He doesn’t live in Ponyville, so while he probably knows of Twilight, he doesn’t know her personally and probably hasn’t really got a good way to get in touch with her (and of course, he’d just be some rando asking her a question [not that that would necessarily stop her; I think that Princess Twilight would always be willing to help somebody if it involved research and maybe experiments, too]).
9340463
I don’t . . . still got pump issues. I’ve tried everything that I can think of to prime it, and nothing’s worked. While it is a possibility something’s gone wrong in the well, I’m leaning towards the pump itself having failed, probably the impeller. It could have run long enough unprimed to damage it (before I realized that there was a problem with it). I’ve already got a new pump, but just haven’t had time to install it yet, due to an excess of work at the shop. We’re really behind and I don’t foresee any improvement before the new year.
Hopefully this weekend I’ll be able to mess with it; I have Sunday off at least.
Yeah, we’re really backed up. Doesn’t help that one guy quit, either.
9340467 9340465
I am in equal parts laughing and groaning at your puns now.
9340506
9340576
Do we have any canon examples of ponies making bets on somepony else’s behavior? Because on the one hand, it seems like something that they probably wouldn’t do; on the other, it seem like exactly the kind of thing a pony like RD might do.
9340604
<me responding to an earlier comment without having read through the entire comment thread to see if things got explained by somebody else before I did it>
So yeah, he could presumably contact her somehow (write a letter or send a telegram or something), assuming he’s aware of her love of research and thinks that she would be a good pony to contact regarding his situation.
Actually, I do wonder if ponies kind of keep a list of other ponies that might be helpful for particular situations, or who the ponies in charge are? My local phone book has the telephone numbers for my state and federal representatives, along with a few other useful numbers, like the police department non-emergency number (as well as 911, for anyone who isn’t aware that that’s a thing), poison control, the local library, etc. No reason why they wouldn’t do something like that in Equestria. Heck, most towns might have some magical emergency specialist unicorn for when come to life spells go rogue or something.
9340667
Bitchy? Perhaps.
But that’s something I legit didn’t know, and I’m a sucker for learning new things! I just assumed that ‘awhile’ was colloquial or vernacular for ‘a while,’ rather than that the two things had different meanings, so today I learned!
Also, corrected it in the text.
Also also, you (and everyone else) are always welcome to comment any kind of spelling errors or grammatical errors or really any other kind of error I make . . . not only do I (hopefully) learn from it and not make that mistake going forward, but other people learn, too. Win/win!
9341074
That’s something to be thankful for. Not having kneecaps sucks (well, I assume; no personal knowledge).
9344229 9341736 9340586
All of y’all and your puns.
Never stop.
9346922
It kinda is. Poor scared ghost.
9340016
*ba-dum - tsh!*
Just put it next to her box with a "SORRY :(" note you big dumb!!
Next chapter:
"An old stallion? There hasn't been an old stallion in this town for years! The last one died along with his daughter."
Spooky.
9389609
Oh, man, that would mess the protagonist up.