The CMC and the great shut-in caper

by PennyDreadful

5

Luna’s moon rose into the sky, cresting over the mountains and casting its light down onto the land. The sky was clear, specially tended by the weather team in preparation for the night's festival.

All through the town, decorations were now abundant. Lanterns hung from the eaves of the houses, a variety of gleefully ghoulish spiders, skeletons, and ghosts adorned the trees and archways, and in quite an impressive display, a huge jack-o-lantern had been erected on top of the spire of town hall, it’s gleaming smile towering above the whole town like the fanciful face of a corrupted moon. Banners of dark cloth hung between the buildings, and that stringy fake cobweb material was simply everywhere.

Carved vegetables lined the streets [4], and even now, so soon after moonrise, the foals of ponyville were already hitting the cobbles to gleefully gather treats, pillowcases and pails at the ready. There were a great many costumes on display this year, both on the foals and on the many fully grown ponies trickling out to attend the public festivities in the town center, and the many functions revving up at the town’s public houses, and one or two private parties. Said costumes varied, with a fine mixture of traditional ghouls and ghosts, alongside more assorted disguises, and the requisite handful of popular culture ephemera [5].

The Cutie Mark Crusaders, normally, would have been among the roving bands of children. Three more joyful costumed figures prancing through the streets with an ever-growing sugar high. However, the three were on a mission.

Scootaloo’s wings buzzed as she drove forward. This was the kind of thrill she liked best. Yanking the scooter from one side to another, narrowly dodging the ponies that now filled the streets, expertly jacknifing just right so that the wagon following her would move how she wanted it to. She could hear her two friends squealing in alarm on some of the more violent motions, but she knew the pair of them could handle it. It had been ages since Sweetie Belle last ralphed as a result of her driving, and she wasn’t really worried about it happening again. (Even if she was the one who would have to hose down the wagon).

It was kind of like one of those things Miss Cherilee had talked about in school. A metaphor. Despite all the ponies in her life that she did have, like her aunts and her friends and Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo couldn’t help but see herself as an outlier. A radical wheeled vehicle in a world of pedestrians. Those close to her along for the ride as she moved deftly in a way only she could.

She wasn’t sure where the howling stallion covered in the sheet fit into things. Maybe he was like… society or something. She was no good at this sort of thing. It was why she’d been barred from drawing any more of the Foal-free Press’ short lived “editorial cartoons”. [6]

But metaphor didn’t matter. Right now what mattered was simile. Smooth as ice. Quick as lightning. Straight as an arrow, towards her destination of…

Scootaloo’s concentration broke as she hummed herself forward. “Applebloom, where are we actually going?”

“To find miss Night Queen lady so we can give her one a’ Mister Shakes stories!”

“Well yeah, but uh… where is she actually broadcasting from?”

“Town center?" she sounded very uncertain. "That’s where all th’ main festival stuff is, and ah bet they need an audience fer a live show.” Scootaloo nodded at this and banked her scooter down main street, zipping towards the great jack o’ lantern bedecked shape of town-hall and doing her best to navigate the ever thickening crowd.

Sweetie Belle gasped, her grin lighting up like a hearth's warming tree. “No! Go the other way! Towards the library and the village green!”

Scootaloo cocked an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“Cheese Sandwich! If he’s a special guest, then there’s no way there won't be a musical performance! And the village green has more predictable acoustics than town square! If they’re doing music on the radio then they’d want to set it up there!”

Applebloom gawped at the brightly smiling unicorn in the wagon with her. “How in the hay d’ you know that?!”

“Miss Torch Song from Rarity’s singing group has been doing radio stuff, and she told me about some of it when she was visiting last.” Sweetie Belle shrugged. “It’s just one of those things one knows when one has ins in the music biz.” Her attempt at a savvy and sophisticated affectation was rather clumsy, but, well, Rarity had taken time to grow into her own, hadn’t she?

The scooter skidded to a halt as they reached the village green, past Twilight’s library. They had been here only yesterday, but now the area was thoroughly transformed. Whoever had set up the stage had moved like a ninja, and the portable radio broadcast apparatus stretched up neatly, anchored to the library and a few other buildings with several lengths of rope.

It seemed the radio show was exciting enough that the primary festivities stretched all the way between it and town center. A greatly excited gaggle galloped to and fro across the green, and it seemed like there were more out-of-town merrymakers than even the last few years had brought in. The smell of hot apple donuts was a surprise to Applebloom. If Granny had thought it fit to move the sales operation out here, then surely everypony was here.

“Yknow, this kinda means we went in a big circle, when ya think about it. If we’d thought t’ come here immediately, it wouldn’ta been a long trip at all.”

“Yes. It was rather a short one for me! Return my manuscript!” The ghostly voice bellowed with such sudden arrival that the three fillies screamed in surprise. Several other screams accompanied, as the crowd stumbled to part and release the looming phantom of a sheet-clad Shiver. A pair of dark, looming holes worn in the fabric gave the blanket a terrible and ghastly gaze, and the gentle autumn breeze combined with his lurching movements gave him a truly spectral form.

The scooter couldn’t get them any further. They’d have to hoof it. The three leapt out, scampering away into the throng with the ghost writer in hot pursuit. “No! Girls! Return my Spectral Literary Adventure Book! Return the slaaaab!” He wailed as he muscled through the crowd after them.

The three made for the stage, Applebloom clutching the bound pack of paper in her mouth. Behind them, the crowd parted with frightened nonresistance for the advancing stallion, and as the three reached the stage, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle both moved to boost Applebloom up onto its edge. She scrabbled, hooves clattering against the wood as though she were trying to get out of the community pool without using the ladder. But just as she managed to pull herself up, she heard the sound of a taller adult easily following. And then…

She was caught. She felt the stallion’s mouth clamp down on her bow, yanking her back violently. Her mouth's hold gave way, and the pile of paper flew loose, exploding outward into a fluttering storm of typewriter-streaked bats that swooped and whirled out into the air and over the crowd.

Applebloom, flat on her back, stared upwards at the piercingly angry eyes of the once-nervous writer.

“Er… howdy mister Shakes. Uh… ah know you don’t think it’s a good idea, but ah got a real good feelin about this? So lahk, I dunno, maybe it could be-” It was at this point that Applebloom realized that high pitched squealing sound wasn’t any of the radio microphones on the stage, and was in fact coming from Shiver as he watched his manuscript rain down on the befuddled looking crowd.

“eeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” He burst into a loud, ringing howl of pain, and threw the sheet back, clutching his head in a display of truly mad despair.

“You- you- meddling foal! Are you happy!? Is this what you wanted!? To strip all comfort and the very flesh itself from my bones!? To expose me to the world as part of some kind of sick game!?”

The throwing back of the sheet had caused his whole body to be exposed, and the crowd rippled with a horrified and shocked gasp. As he opened his mouth to continue frothing at Applebloom, the sound reached his ears, and he swiveled his head to cast his wild-eyed gaze on the crowd.

“OOOOh, yes! Scary, isn’t it!? Terrifying! Absolutely ghoulish! A pony with no cutie mark! A hideous blank specter! What could it mean!? Could he be some terrible ghost from the Everfree forest, held to the earth by a monstrous deed!? Could he be the result of some mad magician seeking to meddle with fundamental pony nature!? Could he be the pale white figure you see in the edge of the room when you turn out the light!? Goodness, what a hideous thing he is!”

Shiver looked outright furious now. His posture carried him first in the sunken slink of a twisted cat, and then to the towering wrathful iron-backed gaze he had demonstrated earlier.

“He could be anything! For after all, is this not Equestria!? The world of horror and madness where one cannot run or hide from evil! The world where you are dragged from your bed and made to witness the unspeakable! Great jellified masses who’s foul colors defy comprehension, called forth by insane cultists! Demonic mistresses who lash you in eternal labor under blistering dark suns to construct monuments to their gibbering ancient gods! Stuffy librarians who don’t understand that the final books in the Masque of Somnambula saga are about the inherent terror of existence, and that the crappy ending is the point of the whole story!

Yes my friends! I am blank! And let that image reveal to you the true horror of our existence in this world of shadows and insanity! For I am no monster! I am no creature! I am a normal pony just like you, and in that way, I am CURSED!”

There was a crash of thunder, and the crowd let out shrieks of fear. Shiver stood, panting, and surveying the audience. Within his mad glare seemed to be a sense of pride, as if unleashing the terror of the universe onto the unsuspecting populace had freed him from it’s shackles somehow.

He looked rather surprised when the applause began. Hooves beating the dirt, clattering against each other, and backed by a chorus of whoops, cheers, and laughter. His mouth hung open as he took in the response.

Applebloom smiled. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had arrived behind her, and were exchanging satisfied glances.

“Hey, uh, mister Shakes…” Applebloom sauntered up to the pale stallion, who was adjusting his glasses with a hoof. “Ah think you oughta take a look at yer rear.”

His eyes went wide. That had been no thunder! There wasn’t a cloud in the sky!

And on his pale flank lay an image of three stylized ghosts, swirling upwards out of the end of a microphone.

“Wh- but- I- that-” Shiver sputtered, staring at the newly arrived cutie mark. “I can’t believe it! This is- but- This is just dumb luck! How on Equus did you girls-”

“We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders.” Beamed Scootaloo, standing up pridefully.

“And you, Tall, pale, and handsome, are quite a writer.” The four turned at the new voice. Shiver looked like he was about to become a ghost for real. Leaning herself against one of the chairs on stage, with one of the many scattered manuscript pages pinned under her gaze, was…

“Q-queen of the Nightmares!” Shiver sputtered. “O-oh my sun, I can’t believe- that is- I…”

The silky midnight mare let out a laugh, baring the plastic fangs in her mouth. “I do tend to have that effect on them.” The crowd let out a wave of laughter. “But for real, I hope everypony with a page of this stuff helps put it back together. If the page I’ve got is anything to go on, these vampires really suck~! And I mean that in the best way!” Another laugh echoed, and she offered Shiver a wink.

"T-there... theress... no vam- vampir.... in th' storr-" he slurred, trying to make his mouth work.
She chuckled and sidled up to him, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. "Relax, guy. I make whatever pun comes to mind." She whispered.
She turned to face the crowd again. “Don’t worry Ponyville, the broadcast will be starting soon… but for now I’ve got to get this tall drink of dramatic goofball cleaned up for the show.” She brushed herself up against Shiver, who let out a startled squeak and blushed heavily. “Or, if he doesn’t feel up for that yet, at least I can give him an address to write to. I love em’ frothy and wild-eyed. I guess that’s the taste you end up with when you go for speed dating at the morgue. Come on, you big lug.” The crowd hooted and applauded as she pushed Shiver off behind the black curtains, with the writer offering only a very confused sound halfway between a grunt and a squeal. Sweetie Belle smiled with a deep and smug satisfaction.

“See, I told you this would end with kissing!”