Chapter 32
The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
Our first week of the new schedule was complicated. I didn’t want to have to read Bathtime for Biscuit ever again, and I was sure that Windflower would get tired of it, too. That meant more foals’ books, which meant a stop at the library, and that cut into naptime.
Therefore, food purchases were delegated to Milfoil. She was quicker at the market and had a better sense of what to buy, anyway, although I couldn’t help but wonder if she was slightly offended that I was pushing human gender roles on her. Or was that something that ponies even cared about?
Sometimes we napped at her house, and sometimes spent the night there after Windflower left. Her house was more lived-in, more comfortable than mine. It fit her like a worn-in baseball glove; it had been fitted to her needs and wants over a period of years, whereas I still hadn’t finished unpacking all my things, and half the house was still in a state of disarray from reorganizing things to fit Windflower’s needs, something I hadn’t anticipated needing to do when I’d first moved in.
All the little trinkets and knick-knacks also really helped out. She didn’t have nearly as much stuff as an equivalent human might have, but she had more than I did. Not that I was jealous of it. Less clutter meant it was easier to keep things clean.
•••••
“Do you have any family to visit for Hearth’s Warming? That’s coming up soon.”
“Yeah, but. . .” Going back to Earth wasn’t really worth the hassle, especially around the holidays. Everything was crowded and busy unless I left early and returned late, and weather could throw even more delays into travel. It was much smoother to go over the summer and spend a week or two.
None of us really cared that much about presents, but we’d always get a few things for a Christmas in July; other than that, I just mailed a few small items for my nieces and nephews.
“. . . I wasn’t planning to.”
“Not planning to!” She turned from the pie crust she was rolling. “That’s what Hearth’s Warming is all about!”
“I’m here, and my family’s back on Earth, and it’s just a pain,” I said. “Not really worth it.”
“Hmm.” She turned back to the crust.
“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” I knew her well enough to ask that question.
“Well, sort of,” she admitted. “My family is getting together for Hearth’s Warming at the farm, and you’re invited.”
“Thank you.”
“And you’ve got to see the pageant. That’s the day before.”
“That’ll be interesting—I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never watched it before.”
Milfoil picked up the crust and set it in a pie tin. “We’ve got to do something for Windflower, but I don’t know what.”
“I don’t know, either.”
“That might be the time to invite her great uncle over. I’ll have to talk to him about it. And we’ll have to decorate your house, too. It wouldn’t be right to leave it so barren.”
“I don’t really have much in the way of Christmas—Hearth’s Warming decorations.”
“That’s okay. We’ve still got time. We can make them together, that will be fun.”
•••••
We’d moved on from Biscuit books. Milfoil and I both agreed that those were below Windflower’s reading and comprehension levels, and the only reason she’d been interested in them at all was because they were new and had pictures.
The librarian had suggested Stranger on a Train, and so far I liked it, and so did Windflower.
•••••
She still was a bit hesitant to come into the living room. She’d always stick her nose in first and see who was there, and she still didn’t trust me alone. As long as she found Milfoil, though, she was content to approach me.
It hurt, a little bit, but I knew that that trust would come eventually.
Sometimes she’d bring one of her toys down from the attic, and one night instead of reading we had a small tea party, all sharing from the common cup. I thought about getting more from the cupboard, but that didn’t seem right.
“I recognized that cup,” Milfoil said after Windflower had left. “I’ve got the rest of the set.”
This was an interesting bit of information. “One of yours? She stole it?”
“Not until recently, and not stole.” Milfoil sighed. “It was a couple of years ago. She’d sometimes have tea parties in the backyard, and I remember that cup got dropped. She asked me if I could fix it, and I said that I couldn’t. She was really upset, and thought that her Mom would be mad at her for breaking it—you know how foals are sometimes.”
Milfoil leaned against my shoulder. “So she got to keep it as a toy, since it wasn’t much use for tea any more, and then after she died, and her parents were moving out, they sold the rest of the cups and I bought them.”
I didn’t want to press her, but I needed to know. “Because they reminded you of her?”
“Because I needed teacups.”
“Oh.”
“I guess that might have been on my mind, too. But I didn’t buy them just for the memories.”
“Her parents sold most of her things, didn’t they?”
Milfoil nodded. “Or just gave them away to other ponies.”
“Do you think she ever goes looking for them? And if she finds them, do you think she steals them back?”
“She might. Do you think that’s something I should ask her?”
“Probably not,” I admitted. “I’m curious, but I don’t think it’s all that important to know.”
•••••
It was well after dark, beyond the usual time that Windflower arrived, and I was starting to get antsy. Over the last few weeks, we’d established a pretty regular schedule—plus, I was curious who the stranger on the train would turn out to be. I had a guess, and I wasn’t going to spoil it by reading ahead.
“Why isn’t she here yet?”
Milfoil shrugged. “Maybe she’s upstairs playing with her toys?”
“We would have heard her, at least I think we would have.”
“Maybe she’s out playing in the snow.” Milfoil got up off the couch. “I’ll go look.”
“Do you think she would?”
“Why not? I would.”
“Alright.” I got up as well and followed her to the kitchen.
The two of us crowded up to the window, and it didn’t take us too long to find her. She was exploring the garden, moving through the stalks that had bent down from the weight of the snow on them, and I swear she was sometimes phasing into the snow and then popping back out somewhere else.
“We should join her,” I decided.
Milfoil had already decided the same. She’d already put a hat on and was stepping into her snow-boots.
It only took a minute or two for us to get dressed for outside. “You go first,” I suggested. “She won’t run from you.”
I saw Windflower’s ears perk up as Milfoil opened the back door, and she cowered into the shelter of the plants before moving back out into the yard. She didn’t stay in the garden very long; she zipped around the border of my yard.
Milfoil wasn’t content to let her have all the fun, and galloped off after her.
I watched them make two laps of the yard together before I remembered I was supposed to go outside and join them. I wasn’t too worried about Windflower fleeing at the sight of me since she was right next to Milfoil, and she didn’t.
Instead, as soon as she saw me, she cut a diagonal line straight across the yard, racing right up to the back steps before ghost-galloping back to Milfoil. It was plainly obvious what she wanted.
Running in snow-boots sucked. I don’t know how Milfoil was managing. Since she was a better runner than me normally, it stood to reason that she’d be better in boots, too; maybe that was it.
I didn’t want to wimp out on them right away, so I did my best to keep up, stumbling and shambling along through the snow.
They lapped me anyways.
When running in circles had gotten boring for Windflower, she made a smaller lap of the garden and then burrowed in with all the plants again. Milfoil followed her, although she mostly stuck to the edges.
Every now and then, Windflower would pop out and then vanish again just as quickly.
It was a game I didn’t think I should participate in unless invited, so I started rolling up snow to make a snowman.
That eventually got Windflower’s attention. She watched me first from the garden, and then moved out in the open when I stacked the middle piece on the base.
Every time I saw a picture of a snowman, it was a neat, orderly thing; mine wasn’t at all. The rolls of snow that made up its body were lopsided and stuck with leaves and other little bits of debris that the snow had picked up. He leaned a little bit, too: I thought he was going to topple when I set the head that Milfoil had rolled up on top of him.
I didn’t have any coal for eyes and a mouth, so I used chips of bark that were sitting at the bottom of my woodpile, and gave him a couple of arms made out of branches.
Windflower studied it, looking at it and then at me, and she finally shook her head.
“She’s an art critic,” I muttered, just loud enough for Milfoil to hear.
“I’ll fix it.” Milfoil stood on her hind legs and grabbed my hat off, then stuck it on the snowman. “There, now it’s the spitting image of you.”
“I’d like to see you do better.”
“You’ll have to wait till tomorrow, and I’ll make a proper snowpony.” She turned to Windflower, who didn’t seem overly impressed by the addition of the hat. “Do you want to come inside and warm up by the fire and read more?”
Windflower nodded, and followed us in through the kitchen door.
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I think this chapter was sweet. Great to see how both are getting to know each other.
9417711
Well, I'm happy with 'as close as we're likely to get/not quite what the Author is thinking of but actually put into words'
9417724
Ever since the snuggles started, this story has been HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG interspersed with d'aaww.
I swear, I'm going to die of diabetes induced cardiac arrest by the time this story pans out...
Do you want an adopted ghost-pony? Because this is how you get an adopted ghost-pony!
9417718
Well author's word trumps archetypal generalizing any day. I'm honestly surprised I was even playing the right game, let alone batting in the right park.
9417703
Nothing, nothing at all!
Dawww.................. so cute!
9417724
Thanks!
There are good days, and this was a good day. Everybody and everypony is getting more comfortable with each other.
9417730
I’ll be honest, as the author there are times that I wonder if I’m being clear enough, if--to put it in the vernacular--people are picking up what I’m putting down. I think that in the traditional world of publishing, there’s a much longer lead time into knowing whether you’re doing it right or if you’re not getting the little hints where they’re needed, especially in the case of a limited narrator.
I said it once in a blog post, I’ve got to trust the reader. My job is not to lead you by the hand down the primrose path; my job is to point y’all in the right direction and let you take what you will from my writings, and all of y’all are doing a fine job. Readers have hit on almost every significant plot element, in many cases before there’s an obvious clear statement that that’s the way things are, and I love y’all for it. I do try to be a bit cautious in the comments, because I don’t want to give spoilers, but suffice it to say that my readers are a smart bunch.
I honestly can’t think of a better way to go.
9417754
I fail to see any downside to having an adopted ghost-pony.
9417762
Dude, y’all are knocking these out of the park. While I do try to avoid too many spoilers in the comments, y’all are doing a fantastic job of reading between the lines and figuring this whole thing out, and all from the limited perspective our first-person protagonist brings to bear. I said in a blog post once that an author needs to trust the readers, and y’all are prime evidence for why that’s so.
9417770
9417787
Awww, I knew you loved us~
Dammit, I just got her back down to tolerable levels!
>But she's far more amusing like this~
Sil, no. Sil, Bad.
...
And I just got them to shut up too...
9417799
You have no idea. I’m literally nothing without y’all.
9417787
I suppose you get the readers you deserve, or something like that.
So taking care of the child and reading to them is part of the male gender role?
9417725
I keep imagining the biscuit riding the admiral hat like a boat in a bathtub... or maybe a kitchen sink, that seems a more appropriate place.
Oh, I don't know, she might like Spring Comes to Snow Hill. It's a winter story so it's appropriate for the season in a Little House on the Prairie way.
Great chapter!
9417788
The downside is that said ghost pony shouldn't stay. She should move on.
9417787
It helps make us look smart that this story is very close to how actual ghosts are supposed to work, and we apparently have some people here who know about that.
Windflower the Friendly Ghost needs a theme song.
I have this image now of a human in winter clothing stumbling around a snow covered backyard, where one fleshy pony and one translucent pony are laughing their asses off as they dodge him easily.
Awwwww ...
Adorable shenanigans. So many shenanigans.
But what will Windflower do while they're away for the Holidays?
Totes adorbs!
We wonder, if Windflower equipped herself with tangibles that she could manipulate, would that resolve the "can't hug" issue?
You wanna make a Snowpone?
He has as much luck making a snowhuman as I have making sand art. Castles? Forget it. The best I could manage was a sad, sad, vaguely turtle shaped lump.
Hmm. Nice to see that Windflower can comprehend and answer yes or no questions. Not sure about anythimg beyond that. Unknown if she can speak. If not, possibly sign language?
Another question is if she can learn. Can she improve her reading comprehension and vocabulary, or is she stuck at basically a 3rd grade level forever? She can change, clearly, given the changing relationship towards... uh... what's our protag's name again? Anyway, that might be different from learning though.
Oh dear, he went and said he wasn't seeing family during the holidays. Shouldn't have said that to a pony, especially not an earth pony. He'll have more family than he'll know what to do with.
Also, the question of Windflower's ability to speak remains unanswered. At least we know she can hear well enough to respond to questions.
9417764
YOU'RE RIGHT!! (a gigantic poison gas cloud spreads over central NJ... which has nothing to do with Alondro's bath and is just business as usual in NJ... but it's poetically coincidental!)
9417757
Sorry, Biscuit, the comment about being ignored was meant specifically in regards to how she would have been treated after her death. Didn't mean to suggest a tragic childhood. She certainly seems to have been well loved by friends and family.
I wanna play in the snow too...
Yay~! Windflower is playing with him too! Progress!
9418122
His name has yet to be revealed
Tomorrow is when we - and she - learn that she can possess facsimiles of ponies. And then she learns the joys of leaping at our human as an animate snowball, de-possessing it midair, then flitting off to watch to "carnage."
Man... now I want to play with a ghostpone.
9417788
"Equestrian Census! Excuse me, sir. How many individuals are living in this house?"
"...living?"
Headaches. So many headaches. :)
9418865
Equestrian Census Bureau
Do not ask us about:
Rocks
Trolls with sticks
All sorts of dragons
Pinkie Pie
Huge green things with teeth
Black Dogs with Orange EyebrowsDiscord in any manifestation or incarnationRains of Diamond Dogs
Fog
Pinkie Pie
Downside is that Windflower will be classified as a cup thief. Right under trolls and left socks.
Upside is that we will learn how to make snow ponies, unless Admiral does one of those authorly cop outs of 'detailed explanation skip'.
9418865
Painful for brains; I like it
When I saw a new chapter I had to book it here to read the newest chapter. It speaks volumes about the dedication to your craft. Though I'm brochure you find writing real essay. It's seems you really like to booklet when writing juding by how many new editional chapters you have. It hardly seems like work to you. Well tome for me to go for now.
I have to wonder, with the human renting childrens books, and Milfoil doing more grocery shopping than just for herself, what in the world the other townsponies must be thinking right now...
9417808
I hope so
Well, yeah? My dad read to me.
9417845
A proper Admiral hat doesn’t fit in a sink. It would have to be the bathtub.
With a rubber duck navy, of course.
9417879
I think she would like that story.
9417899
Thank you!
9417918
Okay, fair point. Still, it’s worth it as long as she does stay.
9417961
I do think that there are some general fan theories (for lack of a better word) on that, based on modern stories and TV shows.
I feel like I know a song that’s almost right, but it just won’t come to me. Sunshine (Adagio in D Minor) by John Murphy is close, but not quite there.
9417975
It’s hard to run in snowboots, and our protagonist isn’t exactly the most athletic character ever.
9417989
9417989
Filly ghostpone adorableness
9417991
Yes, indeed.
Why, they’ll schedule their holidays around Windflower. Milfoil’s family might think it’s odd that she’s got to be back home by nightfall, but they’ll roll with it.
9418029
Thank you!
It potentially could. Like if she wrapped herself in her blanket, she could presumably hug through that.