Chapter 29
The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he turned to Milfoil. “I’ve known you since you were a filly, and you were never one to make up stories. Have you told anypony? Who else knows?”
“Nopony but us three.”
“Keep it that way.” He lowered his head. “I would—she knows where I live, and she could have come by if she’d wanted to, couldn’t she have? But she didn’t. I want to see her, but I don’t know if I should. Maybe she needs to let go completely before she can be at peace.”
Or maybe she’d want to say goodbye to you. I kept my mouth shut; it would be wiser to let the two ponies come to a decision.
Milfoil leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. “You know where to find us. Come over whenever you want.”
He walked away like a man on his way to the gallows. I wanted to chase after him, to insist that he come over and see her and if I had been alone, I would have, and it probably would have been the wrong thing. If he’d thought that coming over to my house would help, he would have done it, regardless of what my opinion on the subject had been. I was certain of that.
•••••
“’Whenever you want?’ What if I’m in the shower? Or on the toilet?”
“That’s a silly thing to worry about,” she said. “I just wish that you’d told me that you’d decided to invite him over like that.”
“How could I not?” I opened my front door and stepped into my living room. “You saw him. Besides, it’s my house, I can do what I want.”
“But it’s not your house alone,” she reminded me. “What if Windflower doesn’t want to see him? I can ask her—once I draw her out a little bit more, I can ask her if she wants to see him, and then you can invite him over. Maybe she’ll want to lead him to her bones, or maybe she still doesn’t want them to be found. We need to know what she wants, and the only way to find out is to ask her, and the only way we can ask her is if she trusts us enough so that we can. She might not like other ponies showing up; she’s nervous enough as it is.” She pushed me with her hoof. “Go get the fire started. There isn’t much time before she comes in, you know.”
“I know.” I started to lay out the kindling, wishing that I’d done that before we left for the restaurant. “I’m sorry. It seemed like the right thing to do, I thought he’d demand to come over and see her or be mad that I hadn’t told him more sooner. I could have—I should have.”
“So remember to do that from now on.” She tilted her head towards the stairs. “I’ll be right back; I’ve gotta use the sandbox.”
I considered a cutting remark about the old stallion coming over while she was in the bathroom, but my heart wasn’t in it. I knew she was right, and there was no sense in continuing our little argument.
•••••
There was something mesmerizing, something primal about watching a fire take hold. Watching the tiny little flame stretch and reach for each new bit of fuel, tentatively at first then faster as it gained size and strength. It raced across the rest of the kindling and became alive enough that I could feel the heat beginning to radiate from the fire as the first stack of sticks caught alight, hissing and popping as the last traces of moisture steamed out of them.
It slowed again as it got to the larger branches, dying down as the easiest kindling and branches were consumed, before growing anew.
I’d been so focused on the fire, I didn’t notice right away that Milfoil had come back. I was still kneeling on the floor and she was standing, which put the two of us at nearly the same height. She had the same faraway look in her eyes. Did ponies also have a species memory of taming fire, of shaping it to their will? A moment in equine history when it went from being a thing of fright to a useful tool?
Surely, long before the advent of writing, there had been a god of fire, a god of chaos, spoken of in whispers. A god who might, on a whim, set the plains or forests afire, and send all fleeing before his wrath. A god who was no longer remembered, for he’d been slain when humankind had captured and tamed his creation.
•••••
Milfoil and I were stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace when Windflower came down. It was cold and not terribly comfortable for me, although the discomfort had been offset by fond memories of laying on the floor when I was a kid.
Our shoulders were touching, and her tail occasionally brushed across my legs. I think she was wagging it, but I didn’t want to bring that up.
Windflower came halfway into the room before she noticed me, and immediately backed up—but not all the way. Most of her head was still in the room as she considered what to do next. Was lying on the floor like this something that ponies did in their own homes, or would it look like something else to her?
There wasn’t any way I could look less threatening than I already did, so I just stayed where I was and watched her out of the corner of my eye.
Windflower nosed forward just a little bit, and I thought she was going to come into the living room until a knot popped in the fireplace and all three of us jerked in surprise. Windflower vanished back into the hallway, and I figured that she was gone.
“That was rather unfortunate timing,” I muttered.
“She’ll be back,” Milfoil assured me, and sure enough, a moment later her head poked back out of the hallway.
Windflower stayed there for a few minutes, long enough that I eventually looked away. Milfoil had two advantages for watching her anyway: she could look more directly at her without scaring her, and her body was better equipped to lie on the ground while still allowing good head movement. An advantage from evolving from a prey species, surely.
•••••
With my cheek resting on my arm, I could see some of the living room, and I saw when Windflower finally left the safety of the hallway and ventured into the living room, cautiously at first, then becoming more confident as I didn’t move.
It wasn’t too long before I lost sight of her again. I knew that popping my head up and looking for her would scare her off, so I didn’t.
This was worse than being in the kitchen and trying to imagine what was going on, and I think if Milfoil hadn’t been keeping watch right next to me, I would have gotten up. More and more I had the vision of myself lying on the ground as a corpse, being examined by a ghost.
Had Windflower ever studied me when I was sleeping? When I didn’t know that she was in the house? Before I set up my box-fort, had she peeked into my bedroom to see who or what was in the bed? I was convinced she had. Maybe she hadn’t dared to come in all the way; maybe she’d just watched from the doorway.
I saw a bit of movement off to my right, a brief glimpse of her viewed under Milfoil’s chin, just a foreleg at first, and then the other. I could relax a bit, knowing where she was. Knowing that she wasn’t going to jump on my back and drain the life out of me—if that was a thing that pony ghosts could do.
Windflower’s head came down, and she looked in my direction and caught my gaze before I could close my eyes or turn away. I could see in her own a faint fear, but it was overshadowed by curiosity. What was I? What was my purpose?
Sometimes I got stopped by fillies and colts in town, and they’d ask me questions about being a human. Usually their questions began with ‘is it true that. . . ‘ and I’d either confirm or deny a schoolyard rumor. Every now and then I was tempted to lie, especially when the question was absurd.
What would Windflower ask, if she could? Why I was in her house? Would she want to know what I was? Or since she was young, would things like that be an unquestioned part of the adult world, and her curiosity would be directed towards the subject of my relationship with Milfoil. Was she interested in the romantic prospects of her former neighbor?
Would she want to know where her toys went? Where her parents went?
I couldn’t answer those last questions.
When had she come back? Was it right after she died, or had it taken a while? Had she seen her parents packing up their belongings? Seen them in tears, seen other ponies come by the house to offer comfort or to help them move? Did they fight? Did she watch, not understanding what was happening? Did she blame herself for it? When they emptied her bedroom, did she see that as a sign that they didn’t want her any more? Had that been an act of betrayal?
I didn’t want to consider that, even though I knew in my heart that I was scratching at the awful truth.
Windflower’s eyes finally left mine, and she stretched out on the floor next to Milfoil.
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Ooh, good, she's finally getting used to him.
She's getting closer. Poor little girl.
I hadn't even considered what she must be thinking about everything, her missing parents. I had just been assuming she was mostly sleepwalking, but she's getting more aware now.
Grats. You're an adoptive (if somewhat strange) father figure now.
I was gonna make a joke about half-steps and only one half having legs, but then my heart slapped my brain across the face.
threw me through a loop for a second
Yay more Wildflower! Nice to seem them all curling up together.
Does Milfoil know you're cheating on her?
Lazy shift key. Gotta whip that pinkie finger into shape. Celestia knows, I do.
D'aww!
Well, hooman, you seem to have been accepted into Windflower's family. Perhaps as some sort of mildly exotic and frightening pet.
9400743
"He did have a pet sehlat he was very fond of."
"What's that?"
"...Sort of like a big Teddy Bear."
"A Teddy Bear?"
"Not quite doctor. On Vulcan the Teddy Bears are alive. And they have six inch fangs."
Dang, caught up already.
An interesting story, and quite engaging.
Discord: You rang? Oh, those were the days seems like just yesterday I'd get a really good blaze a'going just to see a good stampede
Discord: Pah, don't you believe it buster! You seen a good wildfire? Plus what's this tame thing, Fire still knows how to bite the hand that feeds it.
9400894
Ironically, I've always pictured the God of Fire as one of humanity's oldest protectors and allies. With, yes, a bit of a bite the hand trait if you misuse it, but it always comes back if treated with respect.
And suddenly I've generated a mythology where the God of Fire is a dog, and associated with domestication. Huh.
Becoming accustomed.
It's funny all the not-quite-paranoid thoughts that happen when you ponder the unknown.
Laying sideways is definitely not naturally comfortable, for humans.
Maybe she'll relax and stay a while?
Keep going! ;)
Huh... where did this philosophical contemplation come from? Almost made me emotional there. ;)
...you...
But damn, this is so sweet and sad. Just hope the poor protagonist will get a chance to move at least a little bit soon, otherwise he's going to get cramps or aching joints soon. On the other hand, he's got a mare to give him a massage now. With shod hooves ;)
9400897
If the God Of Fire is a Dog, then its Cerberus, and all they trust us to be able to play with is Embers.
They now need a caravan, and a song.
Me and You, and a Ghost named Boo, traveling and a living off the land.
Oh she's becoming comfortable.
I know you can't scritch a ghost, but I want him to try.
9400542
Somewhat? haha
She has trained him well...
JUST KISS GET MARRIED ALREADY!
Windflower will become like 'Zero' and the human will turn into bones and be named Jack Skellington.
This is the most logical plot development, clearly.
I know ponies have some cat-like traits, but this is ridiculous.
Or he moved to Equestria and diversified his portfolio.
Lovely end scene... though now the question becomes whether Windflower can actually speak.
9400468
Having a pony in the house really helped her build confidence that the protagonist probably isn’t a monster. Just dumb sometimes.
9400526
Yeah, the question of how much she knows is a really important one, and probably one that the protagonist shouldn’t just outright ask her. Because there’s no certainty that she’s entirely aware of her condition.
9400542
There are worse fates in life. At least she’s a respectful ghost.
9400599
9400664
I do that often enough that I usually search the document for it before publishing. Clearly forgot this time around.
9400736
*Windflower
Also, yeah, strange family bonding time, yay!
I blame it on using a different keyboard with a slower shift key. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it (it was a different keyboard than usual, but I don’t know if the shift key is slower than the one on my usual keyboard).
9400743
I’d say there are worse things. Sure, Windflower doesn’t know what he is, exactly, but at least she’s figured out that he’s not a monster, just dumb sometimes.
9400758
Shelats look cool. I want one.
Also:
i.redd.it/5ug53dum64fz.png
Also also, back in 2nd edition Dungeons and Dragons, there was a supplement that had the Teddy Bear of Protection +5. It had to be visible to gain that armor bonus, but +5 was so good that nobody would turn that down.
9400855
Always the risk with incomplete stories.
Thank you!
9400894
And you can bet that back in the old days, ponies galloped in fright from fires.
Yeah, no disagreement, but I do think that we humans no longer view fire in the mystical way that we surely once did.
9400897
That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. I think with a lot of the old gods it was a two edged coin--they’d do good stuff for you, but they’d also destroy you on a whim, and you had to be wary of their gifts because they always came with a catch.
Maybe it was the dogs that brought fire to the humans. It wouldn’t be that hard to imagine a mythological story where a dog presents himself to humans bearing a burning stick so that they can have a fire.
9400898
That’s the goal, at least for now. There’s no way to move on before they’ve got that.
Yeah, ain’t that the truth. There are probably some things that are just better to not be thought of.
Or on your belly . . . but it probably varies by human, and what they’re laying on.
Just laying down on the floor is huge progress, no matter how long she stays.
9403914
Toward fires actually. Fires outrun you and you'll be burned, but if you run at them and jump over you'll be safe. There's some speculation that's what's behind horses famously running back into burning buildings.
It came up in one of the later Diskworld books with Tiffany Aching, though the animal in question was a hare. One of my favorite bits. And it makes a great metaphor.
9400951
Sometimes you look into the fire and realize that the fire is looking back at you. Or, to paraphrase Michael Crichton, “The fire is not always right, but it is always hot and compelling.”
Sometimes it’s worth it to get cramps or aching joints if it helps make a child comfortable. If he does finally get up off the floor stiff and aching, it was worth it.
9401000
Given dragons which have presumably existed as long as ponies in Equestria, the ponies probably have far different fire mythology than humans do.
Who wouldn’t want to hear the tales of a roving human, pony, and ghost?
9401150
Yes, she is.
Maybe if he really, really wants to--like deep down all the way to the bottom of his soul--he can.
9401949
They can’t get married yet; he hasn’t received his herd of goats.
9402033
Don’t be silly.
Ghosts turn people into other ghosts. It’s skeletons that turn you into a skeleton.
Well, and vats of acid. And piranhas, I suppose.
9402983
True fact, I know a guy who says that.
That’s very much a possibility. Although, have we ever seen Discord do anything with fire? I can’t recall if we have.
Thank you!
That is a question, and one which may be answered reasonably soon.
9403935
Is that what wild horses do? Run towards a fire and jump over it? That would work on a prairie or a plain; obviously, not so much in a forest.
As for them running back into a burning building, I suspect it’s more of an instinct to want to go where it’s ‘safe’ when they’re panicking, rather than some instinctive belief that they can jump over a burning stall or something. But I could be wrong on that.
I still haven’t read any of the Diskworld books, despite literally everybody telling me I ought to.
9403910
At the risk of distracting from ponies...
i.imgur.com/ROfUFOI.jpg
i.imgur.com/HP4Cl2G.jpg
9403920
I like that story. And then there's how some birds will light fires on purpose to drive prey. I still think that has to be behind the stories of Raven giving people fire that he stole from the Sun. And how does THAT play in Equestria I ask?
9403961
I've heard it a few places at least, and it makes sense on the face of it.
To add to the chorus... Diskworld is great. Just don't try to read the series through in order... (also there's some pretty bad ones in there sadly, but long running series. What can you do?)
9404140
Where better to face the existential dread that comes from confronting your own mortality and the fact that all the natural "laws" you know are a lie than Waffle House?
9404197
I am FAR too fond of that game
9404193
According to one meme, an abandoned K-Mart parking lot is another option, but popular opinion suggests that that’s another dimension.
9404225
Lots of people were cooking with big cauldrons on outdoor fires there. Not for day to day dinner, but for when you need to make really big batches of things for a wedding or a funeral. So you could find a cauldron pretty easily in Kurumon.
I was in South Africa, in the Northern Cape. Gantatelang village specifically, I'm the reason it shows up on google maps
Which, incidentally, were the the big social events of the village and one or the other was happening every weekend. One of those things where you put on a big meal for everyone who shows up (and EVERYONE shows up) and then there's a separate smaller thing for the family.
9403985
So cute!
I’ve got the impression that Australian raptors carrying fire to flush out prey is a recent thing, but it might not be. Some birds are scary smart.
I’ve only played it a few times at cons. One of the most memorable games was when Bad Horse played a card (can’t remember which one exactly) that sank all the ships.
Huh, that’s neat! Just looked it up on Google Maps. Looks kind of dry and desolate, honestly.
9404255
Oh it's definitely scrubland yeah. Not sand though, at least not outside the village. All that brown is low bushes and grass, and it greens up in the spring. You can see some of that in the photos taken at different times. And it's got it's charming points. In summer there would be a thunderstorm every night, and the sunsets? I swear that's where every sunset from movies went to retire, it spectacular. You've also got these low giant bread loaf shaped termite mounds everywhere, and big pits where the aardvarks have been digging.
It also helps that I can recognize all of it. That clump of trees outside of the village to the north is where I'd watch the sunset every night. And the ones you see if you follow the track southeast out of the village were where I'd have a special meal every week. We didn't have a refrigerator so I couldn't keep meat, but I could get something on shopping days. So I'd go out and make a campfire and cook myself a steak.
That's also where I learned those classic flat topped african trees are great, because they keep all their dead wood up in the canopy where it's protected from the rain. So if you're willing to avoid the thorns while climbing it's a great place to get firewood.
9403950 And also ravenous microscopic aliens that live in libraries!
3.bp.blogspot.com/-n-IGcmRZbIE/VXwmoaCVrjI/AAAAAAAACIY/A6o4dzS6qS8/s1600/4x08-Silence-in-the-Library-Promo-Photos-doctor-who-1385068-1066-1600.jpg
(Twilight's worst nightmare)
Heh, ghosts turning people into other ghosts brings up an idea I have for a gloriously stupid first movie in an astoundingly idiotic film trilogy: "Attack of the Scary Ghosts: Blueberry Boos", in which the founder of Whitesbogs, NJ seeks revenge upon the world with her Italian migrant worker ghost army for a town in Maine daring to claim to have developed the commercial blueberry. The ghosts turn people into more ghosts by putting sheets over them.
It will be amazing.
Then there's the sequel "Return of the Scary Ghosts: Cran-boo-ry Crisis" which takes place on Thanksgiving in Chatsworth, NJ.
And the finale, "The Scary Ghosts Rise Again: Electric Boo-galoo", taking place in Edison, NJ where the ghost of Nikola Tesla plots his vengeance upon the world that scorned him... while he also seeks to raise his favorite pigeon from the dead.
9404087 The flowers aren't too poisonous, but they seem to avoid them anyway. Squirrels will still rip the flowers up, even if they don't eat them. Because squirrels are just assholes.
9404316
Later critics will tell everyone to skip straight to the glory that is number three.