Chapter 20
The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
In general, ponies were different than humans. Obviously, they had hooves and tails and ears and most of them were bright pastel colors. Having spent most of my life on Earth, I had certain expectations whenever I was about to meet a pony, expectations that I’d built up over the years on Earth.
Ponies generally confounded those expectations, but that didn’t stop my brain from making assumptions every single time.
Thus, I had an image in my mind of a kindly old woodcarver, wearing a green woodworking apron, with a long white beard. I could picture his workshop, too; I’d seen enough episodes of This Old House to know exactly what a proper woodshop ought to look like.
Long Bent exactly met my expectations. He had a green apron and a long white beard. He even had glasses.
His workshop and his sales floor were one and the same, just cordoned off into separate areas by shelves displaying his toys. A sensible arrangement; he could carve when there weren’t any customers in the shop.
When I came through the door, he was working. He had a half-finished toy clamped in a vise, protected by a towel. He had a little wood chisel clipped onto one hoof, and he was lightly tapping it with the shoe on his other forehoof.
He looked up when I entered, and efficiently unfastened his chisel before coming over to the counter to greet me.
We exchanged pleasantries, and then I showed him the toy dog I’d bought at market. “Did you make this?”
Long Bent nodded. “Couple dozen moons ago. For . . . let me see.” He rolled it towards himself and examined it carefully. “Yes, I made that for Mint Flower. He loved it, named it Spots. Sometimes he’d drag it around town like it was a real dog, but colts grow up and get other interests. It still rolls well, though.” He pushed it across the counter to demonstrate. “I always put beeswax on the axles—that keeps them from rusting. Do you need it repaired? I could make a new ear for it, repaint it, and put a new string on it.”
“I kind of like it the way it is,” I said. “It shows that it was a beloved toy. That wasn’t what I wanted to ask you about, though. I saw this at the market, and I bought it because it reminded me of another toy I’d seen.”
“Another dog?”
“A duck. It was in the attic of my house when I moved in.” As far as I knew, it was still there—it had been this morning, still tucked down between the attic floor and the roof. “I saw the wheels, and they were just the same.”
He got a little frown. “Yes, that would have been Windflower’s. Such a shame, what happened to her.”
I thought he was going to tell me everything without further prompting, but instead he fell into silent contemplation, so after a somber moment, I prompted him again. “I heard that she was out in the woods.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, it was a nice day, the kind of day where it doesn’t seem anything could go wrong, and you know how close the house is to the edge of town. Fillies and colts are always playful and adventurous, and she went off into the woods.
“Nopony knew that an aenocyon was hunting in the woods.”
Now I knew how the word I hadn’t recognized in the newspaper was pronounced, but I still didn’t know what it meant. “What is that?”
“A terrible wolf,” he said. “Big and mean and fast. It might have stalked her for a while, until it was sure she was far enough away from town.
“When she didn’t come home for dinner, a search was organized, but by then it was far too late for her. There wasn’t much left, poor thing.
“It was her grand-uncle that found her . . . and the aenocyon. Luckily for him, he wasn’t the only pony there, so it didn’t attack him, just abandoned its lair and ran off deeper into the woods, but everypony knew it would be back.
“The town was in a tizzy for a week until a detachment of Royal Guards took care of the wolf. Nopony went out after dark until the monster was dispatched, and foals weren’t allowed to be outside.”
•••••
I went home in a daze and fell into my lounge chair, the wooden dog held on my lap. I’d gotten the answer I’d been looking for, and now I wished I hadn’t.
I was still sitting there when the sun went down. I was vaguely aware that I should probably eat dinner, but I didn’t feel like it. I also needed to move the flowers, but I didn’t feel like doing that, either. Surely the ones that were outside would be fine for another night.
Milfoil, it turned out, didn’t think so.
I might have dozed off, or I might have just been completely lost in thought. I certainly didn’t hear her knock, but then she might not have knocked. She might have just let herself in through the back door.
My first indication of her presence was when she nuzzled my arm, and I think I screamed.
She jerked back but didn’t run for the door. “Are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?”
“Yes.” I clutched the wooden dog tightly. “Yes and yes. Well, a vision of sorts.” A vision of a cute little filly in the woods, unaware of the wolf just behind her, and maybe she saw it at the last moment when it was already too late to run, or maybe she only realized as its teeth were digging into her flesh.
“You look pale.” She braced herself on the arm of my chair and touched a hoof to my forehead. “Are you sure that you’re okay?”
“I . . . don’t think I should be alone right now,” I said. “I’m not right in the head at the moment.”
“Is it your secret?”
I nodded. There was no point in pretending that it was anything else.
“Can you tell me?”
I shook my head.
“Well. I have some stew I made, I’ll bring some of that over, you just sit here. That might help you feel better, and I’ll move your flowers for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.” She turned for the kitchen. “You just stay right here, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
•••••
Milfoil left long after dark, after I’d assured her multiple times I was feeling better. Neither of us talked much, and she didn’t press me to tell her what was on my mind.
I didn’t sleep well at all.
•••••
The next morning when I went to the attic, the blanket was gone. The other toys were still in their places, and I picked up the duck and took it downstairs and put it next to the dog, idly pushing the two of them instead of making breakfast or getting ready for work like I should have been.
I knew what I had to do next.
My boss was understanding when I said that I had to take the day off.
•••••
I took the duck with me and headed off into the wilderness.
It was foolish of me to think that I’d ever find her hiding place in the woods. I had nothing to go on at all; this was the fool’s errand to end all fool’s errands. A complete waste of time. What I should have been doing was explaining everything to Milfoil, or going back to the old stallion’s house and apologizing to him over and over again.
It was foolish of me to think I’d ever find her hiding place in the woods, but I did.
It was down in a natural depression, ringed partially around with bushes, and half-blocked off with the decaying trunk of an enormous tree. I could just see a corner of the blanket sticking out from under it.
As if that hadn’t been an obvious enough clue, there were some bones scattered about, partially covered by the leaf-litter.
Long Bent had mentioned a cave, and this wasn’t it. I knew in my heart that the ponies hadn’t found this. I could picture it as clear as day—the old stallion had found the cave, had found the wolf, and they’d chased it off, maybe had a few pegasi patrolling from above to track its movements, but it wouldn’t have come back here.
They might have thought that she wandered into the cave to explore and that’s where the wolf got her, but it wasn’t. This was the spot.
I was going to have to bring the old stallion out here. I had no right to disturb this place, no right to touch anything. I would not approach any closer than I already had.
I set her toy down near the edge of the clearing, where she’d be sure to spot it. A bright yellow duck against the greens and browns of the forest, completely unmissable.
Was she there right now? Did she hear me? See me? She could have been hiding under the tree; that might have been her final refuge.
I wasn’t a religious man by any means, but I knelt down and bowed my head and said a prayer for her, and I asked for her forgiveness for my foolish actions.
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Wow.
Praying for forgiveness of the ghost you scared. Good start.
This is getting depressing.
A gift, a sincere apology, and a humble request for a second chance? He's finally doing something right.
Now to see if she thinks he's worth the risk.
9353895
This was depressing from the first chapter in. now it's just philosophical and a wee bit nihilistic.
This Old Horse? First thing I thought when I saw the show title.
Damn, well this point was inevitably sad. But clearly there's a ways to go, yet...
Damn... will he 'adopt' her? Will he help Windflower move on, by finding her bones and finally giving her a proper burial?
I'm sad for both of them.
I hope she loves her toy.
Now that he found her diying place, she has no more reason to stay round except to say goodbye?
9353895
It was about the ghost of a filly. It was always going to be.
Strangely enough, this chapter reminded me of the sequence that occurs in Harvest Moon (I think on my Nintendo 64) whereupon if you fail to tend your animals properly and one (or more) died... Well, it's not the greatest feeling you get.
Anyways, sounds like she was taken by a dire wolf then? Stood no chance...
Killed by a species that is extinct in the human world. On a related note, how tall is anon in this Fic?
And thus defied mine, given that setup.
In any case, our protagonist is asking the right questions of the right people... but he forgot that he wasn't going to like the answers. He's been thinking about Windflower as a curiosity, a phenomenon, an intriguing but harmless mystery. After scaring her off, he started to change his tune, but now it's really hit home: She's a person, and moreover, a dead little girl. There's no way this was going to lead to something pleasant. At least now he's making amends.
How do you hug a ghost?
I'm thinking that if she wraps herself in the blanket, it might work alright, since she can interact physically with some things when she wants.
Guess I was right about them not finding her body. Hope littke windflower finds her rest.
But somehow I expect the other boot to drop soon. We had some ominous foreshadowing a while back.
Sigh, sometimes I hate being right. I knew my initial suspicions were unfounded. Now I feel bad for suspecting Milfoil. She's really a cinnamon roll after all.
As much as I hate to bring it up, the old guy said "there wasn't much left", implying they had found her. That doesn't really make sense considering the end.
9354653
Ghost hugging is an important science, the research of which is woefully underfunded.
You're American, Admiral. It's vise!
"We're now arriving at Solemn Town... *sigh* please watch your step as you leave the train..."
9354785 They found the bits the wolf had dragged back to its den. Not the parts it'd already stripped of her tender pony meat.
Mmmmm... filly fillet. *Alondro and the chimera sit side by side, salivating* Wait... uhm... *he slowly turns, and then chimera and soft fleshy human meet eye to eye* Oh my... what big teeth you have... all... 3... heads... of them... .... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! *Not much is left of Alondro when he's found...*
And now I'm a ghost too. Dammit.
9354785
Much cinnamon roll.
Well obviously she was a travelling snack. Ate more as the wolf went back to its den
Well thats depressing cry. At least he found her resting place kinda. Story is great i love it keep up the good work.
9354901
i say vice with a 'c', and im american. always have spelled it like that. could be a northwestern thing tho. iunno
My heart... I cant take it...
Things are starting to not add up. I begin to wonder if the old pony had more to do with Wind Flower's disappearance than our protagonist, blinded by his own guilt, is keying in on.
This is a lovely story; thank you for writing it and sharing it with us!
9355438
You pronounce it "vike"? :rainbowconfused:
I always heard vice pronounced as "v-ice".
Oh, now I see what all the yelling is about. It's like the vase vs vaas debate.
... *vice
I thought you 'Murikans liked to make things simpler?
9355660
Did you think her name was Milf Oil?
That.... was painfully sad.
... but it was also kind of heartwarming that folks remembered and still had emotions caught up in it. And Milfoil's reaction was sweet as well.
Dangit, Biscuit, I'm going to have to put this on another bookshelf now.
9355970
lol no. i guess i meant spelled. my bad. but yeah. never normally spelled it as vise. it feels wierd
So I'm guessing this is a "bones weren't properly laid to rest" kind of thing? Does that mean burying the rest of her remains that he just found will let her "move on"?
Ears? Wow, such strange things to have.
Also, I remember you telling me about this part, Admiral, but I was not prepared for it.
I was not at all...
9353889
I don’t know if that would actually work with pony ghosts, but then it certainly can’t hurt.
9353895
Well, yeah; Windflower hardly met a happy end.
9353903
And all it took was a hoof to the face to knock some sense into him.
That’s the real question, isn’t it.
9353915
It’s true! Although it’s still possible that it could have a happy ending.
9353920
That would be a very different show, I think.
There is indeed, but at least he’s taking steps in the right direction, finally.
9353933
And the real question is which of those choices is the right one to make?
9354011
The duck? She does, that’s her favorite, and probably the best peace offering the human could give.
Also, your avatar is super-adorable.
9354071
Well, just finding it maybe isn’t enough for her to move on.
9354119
Exactly.
Although I suppose in some ways, our protagonist didn’t really have it hit home until he heard the story and found more of her remains.
9354155
I just watched a clip of that on YT (never played the game myself), and you’re right.
Another one that was brutal was Ratchet drowning in Ratchet and Clank for the PS2.
She was, and she didn’t have a chance at all.
9354252
In terms of Equestrian monsters, though, it’s probably on the lower end of threatening monsters, compared to things like hydras and owlbears and dragons and such.
About six feet tall.
Since that probably isn’t the answer you’re actually looking for, the top of a mare’s head would be about armpit height on him.
9354358
Yeah, when he was thinking of her in the abstract, that was one thing. He was curious, but there was no real emotional connection, since she’d been dead before he even moved to town. It was a thing that had happened in the past . . . but now he knows more about her, how she died, and has even found where she was killed, so it’s really hit home for him.
9354653
Yes, that might work.
9354777
It might, or she and our protagonist might be finding their way out of the woods, so to speak.
9354785
She really is.
As 9355160 said (with far less restraint and diplomacy, although I would have expected nothing less), they found what the wolf had taken back to its lair for later.
9354794
I wholeheartedly agree.
9354901
Correction made; thank you!
Also it’s not my fault, we have vises and vices here in the States, and I can’t always remember which one is used for what. Dumb English.
9354924
9355160
And you’re correct once again.
You know, this does make me consider a comedic take, where the entire forest is haunted around some big bad monster’s lair. Or what if somebody (or somepony) came by far later, long after the monster itself had died, too, and so now it’s a peaceful forest but haunted by all the victims of the monster. Hmm.