The Nightmare Tree

by The Ancient Wyrm

Chapter 2

The Nightmare Tree

Chapter 2

As the dreaded, mournful wail of the ambulance siren sifted into the distant night, the remaining foals looked to each other with wet eyes and soggy frowns. Sweetie Belle, worriedly turned her head away from the road, and her gaze alighted upon the front door. “Hey girls, what’s that note on the door?”

Sweetie Belle began the short walk to the old cottage door, the rest of the CMC and Featherweight following suit. Stuck in the door hinge, fluttering in the cool night breeze, was a paper note hastily scribbled in poor hoofmanship. The four ponies gathered tightly around the note, sparing no space for even a shadow.

“Dear Feathers and CMC,” began Feathers.

“Sorry to ruin your Nightmare Night like this” continued Sweetie Belle.

“Off ter the hospital” Applebloom mumbled.

“Something about Colitis?” queried Scootaloo.

“Colitis?” Applebloom quizzically gazed along her friends.

“Um, I think you could die from that…” finished Sweetie Belle forlornly.

“Anyway, go ahead without me, I’ll catch up. Ready set go?” Feathers furrowed his brow in confusion. “What does he mean by that?”

Applebloom searched her friend’s faces, “We can’t just leave ‘em alone on Nightmare Night. It’s his favorite night of the year.”

Scootaloo rubbed her chin in thought. “She has a point, it would be a shame if nopony came to see him.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” shot up Sweetie Belle, “We could go visit him in the hospital, I bet that would cheer him up!”

Feathers, who had been staring intently at the note until now, turned to face the CMC. “Now there’s an idea! How about we cut to Pony General using the shortcut through Everfree?”

“Wait, are we talkin’ about the dead river bed?” Apllebloom raised her left eyebrow.

“Sure am!” Feathers cried. “Besides, you read the note,” Feathers coiled to the ground. “Ready. Set. Gooo!” and with all the speed his legs could muster, Feathers began to the Everfree with the CMC close behind.

They hopped fences, scrambled through gates, and swept across fields all in attempt to catch the white blur ahead of them. Scootaloo, zipping along on her scooter was the first to reach Featherweight. “So, do you think Pipsqueak will be surprised to see us? He did say to start Nightmare Night without us.” She smirked towards Featherweight.

Feathers grin lit up his face, “It’ll be worth it just to see the look on his face! Imagine him, and what would be even better is if Princess Luna came by to see him!”

Scootaloo laughed shortly at the thought, and then revved her wings up to higher speeds. “Watch on the left side, coming through! Last one to the river bed is a donkeys’ aunt!” She careened and sped up past Featherweight.

“Hey! No fair! “Sweetie Belle pouted.

“Wait up!” hollered Applebloom.

Scootaloo, all full of the bravado near victory provides, hardly heard a one of them, and sailed effortlessly into the forest. The brush became thicker and slowly the ground became more and more uneven. Then, eyes wide I fear, Scootaloo began to break as she noticed how close she was to the riverbed. Fortunately, Featherweight was close enough to grab the back of the scooter with his teeth and stop it. Scootaloo sheepishly grinned back at Featherweight in thanks as the other two caught up.

“Whoo.” sighed Featherweight. “Ah! There’s the riverbed!” he exclaimed.

For the first time, the group laid eyes upon the old, dead riverbed of the Everfree. Dank night stained the round stones, and creeped among the trees. What had once been an easy and welcoming path by day was now a foreboding warning by night. “Um,” the mummy gulped, “might we ‘ave any other paths tah choose?”

“I agree with her, this looks a little scary.” The witch lowered herself to the ground.

Featherweight rolled his eyes from the CMC to the riverbed, where a spectral white shape caught his eye. “Hey! Look down there in the riverbed! It’s Pip!” And sure enough, Pip was there, darting from tree to tree, shadow to shadow as if in a desperate attempt to not be seen by some force or being.

“W-wait” shivered Scootaloo, “I-I can see right through him!”

“Ahm sure it’s just the moonlight, all sorts of weird things happen in the night.” Applebloom comforted herself more than the others.

Featherweight turned upon the others. “But don’t you see! The important thing is he isn’t sick!”

“But what about the note? And the ambulance?” The witch began to rise slowly.

“Don’t you get it?” Featherweights glowing face turned to them. “It was all a joke, a prank pulled on us like when Rainbow Dash uses the thunder cloud! Quick! After him before he disappears again!” and with that he was off, speeding down the bedside into the inky abyss. Half a heartbeat later followed Scootaloo, then Applebloom. Sweetie Belle hesitated for a moment, then swallowing her fear, trotted after them.

The riverbed was far worse than any had imagined. The riverbed was full of all varieties of darkness that caught and clung to the foals as they passed through. The riverbed, overseen by morose ravens, and lordly horned owls. It was the birthplace of pale ghostly mushrooms and death caps. The trees seemed to glower and stare at the foals as they ran through along the rough rocks, trying desperately to not fall into the sickly, dripping puddles of stagnant filth. A gully long carved out from the banks had a single dripping pool that seemed to call “Come…Stay…Stay and never go…Run and hide…stay…stay…”

Featherweight lost sight of Pipsqueak early in, and had begun to blindly try his way through the riverbed. Eventually he found an incline and made scrambled out through the only break in the trees he saw. He was soon joined by a set of slightly dirtied, slightly bruised, and thoroughly frightened CMC.

“Oh no!” squealed the witch. “Rarity is going to be so upset when she sees this!” Upon the hem of her twilight cloak a series of ragged rips had perched.

“An’ this was mah favorite bow!” the mummy mourned as her bright red bow sagged, frayed where a trees’ gnarled branch had decided to cling to it.

“You think that’s the least of our worries? Look up there.” The monster pointed up the hill, to a black house presiding over the riverbed.

Oh yes, the house was ancient, and seemed to be cut not from timbers of wood, but from nightmare black marble. The windows and doors were gummed shut with grime and gunk, yellowed ancient glass peered half-blind from the walls. On the whole, the house mushroomed out from its base, with who knows how many superior and inferior attics, filled with dusted old relics and mysteries, that none but the most daring of pegasi could ever hope to reach. Crowning the roof was a myriad of chimneys, crooked and steeped in the growing night; so many, in fact, that the whole roof seemed to be one vast cemetery, each flue signifying the grave of some old forgotten dragon or Alicorn of fire.

After what seemed ages of the young foals just fidgeting, Featherweight started the slow climb up to the house. “Wait a minute! Whar are ya goin?” piped the mummy.

“Well, if Pipsqueak led us here, he may be inside” shrugged Featherweight. “Besides, he may be trick-or-treating ahead of us.”

“Well that’s no fair! Pip always gets the most candy!” Scootaloo fumed. And with that the mummy and monster both raced to catch up with the skeleton.

“B-b-b-but that house looks haunted! Like all the stories from that book we borrowed for the school play!” Sweetie belle, shock with terror, simply shrank to the ground.

“Uhg!” groaned the beast, which promptly turned around to get the witch. “It doesn’t really matter, since we need to find Pip anyway.” Setting down the scooter, Scootaloo returned to her petrified friend and began pushing the still Sweetie Belle forward.

The friends gathered at the base of a long, tall staircase that had obviously seen better years. It easily flew some fifteen or twenty feet to the front porch, which sat scowling at the little band below. Shakily, the skeleton picked up a hoof and set it on the first step, only to withdraw in shock as not only did that step, but the whole of staircase let out a creaking song.

Appleblooms’ eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Now THAT ain’t natural!”

“See!” squealed the witch, who was now cowering behind her front hooves, “I told you it was haunted!”

Featherweight shifted his weight, and then took on a determined look. “It doesn’t matter, if Pip is in there, we need to go get him!”

The CMC exchanged glances at Featherweights declaration, and then gathered themselves up into a ball, inhaled, and yelled “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS RESCUERS, GO!!!!” Featherweight only had enough time to bemoan the obvious ear damage that had just occurred before being swept up by the now charging trio. The whole of the staircase moaned a dust filled dirge as the stampeding hooves marched up it. Then, the four dropped upon the porch, still hugging each other as the mournful song slowly faded from memory.

Chancing a glance at the door, Scootaloo gawked, “What kind of doorbell is that?”

Facing the four friends was a black door decorated with raised wood, outlined in the shape of a coffin, and resting in the center of that coffin was the head of an old donkey, bandage holding his jaw in place.

“Oh! Rarity had a name for this!” Sweetie Belle intoned, “But I’ve forgotten it. I know it has to do with Hearth’s Warming Eve” she puzzled.

“Ooh! Ooh! Ya mean tha one with the mean old ram who was business parners with the donkey!” Applebloom began to excitedly wave her front hooves in the air, “Then when the donkey died, he appeared as a doorknocker to the ram!”

“I remember that!” brightened Scootaloo, “But I can’t remember the name of the play. Anyway, whose gonna knock?”

The ponies all stiffened at the revelation, for how will anypony answer if nopony knocks? Eyes shifted from one pony to the next, each one not daring to move, until finally Featherweight puffed himself up. He started for the door, then hovered in air until he reached the knob. Taking both hooves under the long, sad nose of the knocker, he lifted it up.

At that instant, the doorknob gave out a long, deep groan that shook not only the house but the very bones of everypony gathered before it. Dust blew from the gutters, as some infernal wind vein turned upon itself as if possessed. Behind them the staircase gave one last sigh and splintered into fragments in a final exhalation of dust.

“Aw, no! Look at what you did Featherbrain!” bemoaned the beast.

“I told you it was haunted!” shrieked the witch.

But before Featherweight could answer, the door slowly swung inward, inviting the four with a creak that oddly sounded like ‘Enteeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr.’

Eight eyes stared at the now open entry, which only revealed more shadow and night. A hoofful of moments went by before something, or somepony inside, indignantly sighed. From outside a great dust devil was forming, grabbing leaves and debris into itself, before funneling headlong into the cavernous house. The CMC only had enough time to grab each other before being picked up, flung into Featherweight, and unceremoniously dumped upon the floor inside. The door slammed shut with a resounding ‘BANG’ that held all the finality of the grave.

Gathering themselves, four decorated faces sponged the room for anything. Tall, black columns reached to the invisible ceiling, while a burgundy carpet led from the door up the inner staircase. Pale windows provided almost no real light, only a slight sifting of muggy rays illuminated the inner sanctum.

As the ponies were beginning to worry about what it was that brought them in, a tall shadow stepped out from behind a column to the right. A tall unicorn stallion, easily the size of Flim or Flam but all the more gangly was now standing in the center of the room. His coat was a pale yellow, so pale in fact that little Appleblooms’ coat would have seemed to radiate sunshine. Dark purple bags surrounded and sagged from his sunk, dark eyes. His face was gaunt, and wrinkled much like a dried gourd, and no mane was upon his head. He wore a black button down dress coat with tails over a button down white shirt, black dress horesshoes, and a black cape with red interior. “Why have you come here? Why did you knock upon my door and not come in when invited?” the mysterious unicorn sneered with a dusty, reedy voice, and in an attitude that was much less than pleased. He trotted forward with deliberation and purpose to lord over the four friends. “Why have you disturbed me and my business, now speak!”

The gang began to stammer, squirm, and hide, but no matter how they tried, they could not look away from the unicorn. Finally Featherweight gulped audibly, “Well sir, it’s, uh, Nightmare Night and we were just trick-or-treating” he finished shaking.

The unicorns’ horn glowed a pale, sickly green as a large bronze pocket watch with an intricate M scrawled upon it levitated out from his coat. “Oh! I really don’t have time for this!” he moaned, flitting open the watch to look at a clock that not only had five hands, but supported an hourglass within.

“B-b-but sir? It’s Nightmare Night and…” shuffled Applebloom.

“Oh? Is that it?” the pocket watch was snuffed shut and secreted away. “You’ve tricked me?” the unicorn sneered. “What, then, would be a treat? Eh?”

“Well, we think our friend came here, and were wondering if you may have seen him” Scootaloo rubbed the back of her head. “If you could tell us anything, I suppose that would be a treat.”

“Yeah! That’d be nice!” finished Applebloom.

The unicorn briefly donned a puzzled brow before moving towards the skeleton. “Who are you? Colt!”

“Me sir? I’m Featherweight.”

“Know why you are wearing bones boy?” the unicorn leaned over him, with acid in his words. “Bleah! Didn’t think so” and he turned upon his hoof to the mummy.

“And you?” he snapped with a grimace.

“M-m-mah name’s Applebloom, sir” she cowered.

Light green light illuminated the unicorn’s horn, pulling a slightly loose wrapping from under her chin up, towards him. “Why dressed in an ancient mummy’s’ rags?” When Applebloom could only stutter for a minute, he let the bandage snap back in place, “Times up. And what of you pegasus?” he swung towards the monster.

The beast stood firm, head thrown back in defiance. “My name is Scootaloo!” she announced with pride and strength.

A green glow encased her mask and pulled it down over her smug face, disorienting her for a moment. “Why a monsters face? Hmm?” the unicorn drawled, leering into the now intimidated Sootaloos’ eyes. When she could only balk, the unicorns’ cape snapped like wings behind him, turning now towards the wide eyed Sweetie Belle. “And you?”

Sweetie Belle yelped as if she had been pinched, and shrank behind her hooves. “M-m-m-my n-n-nam-m-m-me is Sweetie Belle, sir” she implored with large eye.

The unicorn, unabashed, leaned in over her, “Why are you dressed as a witch?” He cocked his left eyebrow. Leaning back he addressed the group, “No thoughts eh?” Sighing, he began to slowly step away. “I’m wasting my breath! All dressed up for Nightmare Night and none of you know why or when or even from where! Pity…” he mumbled.

Scootaloo was the first to pick herself back up, “And just who are you to go around being so mean to us all!”

The unicorn stopped midstride, turning his head and flashed a small, sharp but polite smile. Turning again to trot back, his horn aglow, he replied, “Begging your pardon, where are my manners?” He swooped in front of the group, bringing up a simple business card. “Moundshroud is the name, Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud” he declared, levitating the card emblazoned with the added subscripted line of ‘Time Management’ in front of them. “Is that not a fine name, foals? Does it not ring? Heh heh.” Moundshroud chuckled. Then his smile was stashed away again, “But I have work to do, no treats here, only trick!” lightning flashed from the windows, “So if you will excuse me…”

In the brief flicker flash of lightning, Sweetie Belle had stumbled backwards; upsetting a dark vase decorated with peacock feathers she didn’t even know had been there. And who should jump out from behind the vase but Pipsqueak, stopping Moundshroud mid-sentence.

“Pip!” yelped Sweetie Belle.

“Y-y-yer…Y-y-yer…Yer a ghost!” balked the now flabbergasted Applebloom.

And there Pipsqueak stood, shivering in the middle next to Sweetie Belle, eyes filled with terror at his predicament, franticly searching the room for something, then staring in cold horror at the figure of Moundshroud. He was pale blue, and completely transparent, with slightly darker spots where the pinto coloration would have been had he been physically present.

“Wait! Stop right there you!” Moundshroud ordered, making a move for little Pipsqueak. “We have an appointment you and I!”

Pipsqueak darted to the left, then the right and upset another vase, revealing a hole in the wall. Pipsqueak rudely stuffed himself in, pumping his timy legs until there was an audible ‘Pop!’ and was gone through the hole. Moundshroud, now vehement, wheeled back on the CMC and Featherweight, “Drat! Now see what you have done!”

Applebloom however didn’t take the time to be scolded however, planted her front hooves, and bucked down the door. “Come on girls! Pip needs us!” and as one the group charged out the door and onto the porch.

They scrambled madly about the porch, screaming “Pip! Pip!” at the top of their lungs. Then they turned about the corner, to find that the porch was a wraparound, and followed it to the back. Featherweight and Applebloom were the first to reach the back and stopped dead in their tracks, causing Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo to collide with them.

The four gawked at the sight in front of them. Standing tall in the night was an ancient tree, grander and older than any they had seen before, with branched that hung in the sky, filling almost all of it up. But that was not the strangest part, no, the tree held not leaves or acorns from its’ twigs, but pumpkins, hundreds upon hundreds of pumpkins.

“Look at em!” gasped Applebloom, “Ah’ve never seen so many!”

“What is it?” Featherweight puzzled, “A pumpkin tree?”

“No,” careened the reed smoke voice of Moundshroud from an upper veranda, “a Nightmare tree.”

As the CMC and Featherweight looked closer, the tree began to come alive. The pumpkins on the tree were not mere pumpkins; each one had a face sliced in it, each face was different, every nose was a weirder nose, every mouth smiled in some hideous new way. A thousand grimaces, and twice times a thousand glares came from freshly cut eyes, each blink held within the remnant holiday spirit, of years gone by.

More and more pumpkins lit up to join their brothers and sisters as jack-o-lanterns, puffing small clouds of candle and whicker smoke scented with the orange gourds. Dried leaves scurried as mice across the ground as to join the wind in a fluting melody that lifted from the ground.

“It's big, it's broad...

It's broad, it's bright...

It fills the sky of Nightmare Night...

The strangest sight you've ever seen.

The Monster Tree on Nightmare Night.

The leaves have burned to gold and red

the grass is brown, the old year dead,

But hang the harvest high, Oh see!

The candle constellations on the Nightmare Tree!

The stars they turn, the candles burn

And the mouse-leaves scurry on the cold wind borne,

And a mob of smiles shine down on thee

From the gourds hung high on the Nightmare Tree.

The smile of the Witch, and the smile of the Cat,

The smile of the Beast, the smile of the Bat,

The smile of the Reaper taking his fee

All cut and glimmer on the Nightmare Tree...”

The four were so mesmerized by the shining candle lights in front of them, that none noticed a small, clear blue figure attach itself to the tree, and begin a frantic climb up. Like a squirrel fearing for its’ life, Pipsqueak was scrambling up the trunk. About halfway up Applebloom pointed, “Wait! Pip! What are ya doin?”

Moundshroud nearly fell from his perch in surprise, “Now stay out of there, colt! That’s no place for you!” Pipsqueak ignored the unicorn and kept climbing with a mission, knocking a couple jack-o-lanterns loose in the process. Moundshrouds’ horn desperately glowed to catch the falling gourds.

“What is he after?” puzzled Featherweight.

Sweetie Belle, who had been tracing Pips’ course, pointed high into the tree. “There! He’s after that pumpkin!”

“Oh my gosh!” Scootaloo gasped, “That Pumpkin looks just like Pip!” And indeed, the jack-o-lantern hanging atop the tree looked exactly like little Pips’ head, with a raised spot for around his cut eye for the exact spot on his face. As Pip reached the branch, the pumpkin began a low, trilling mumble.

Pip grabbed the pumpkin, which was almost as large as him, and hung from the tree. “Now, you’ve had your fun colt, but that belongs to me now. Give it back!” Pip stared in wide eyed horror, before the twig snapped and both pumpkin and Pip were sent hurtling to the ground. Lightning flashed across the sky as Moundshroud stamped into the porch, “Inexcusable! Inexcusable behavior!”

The four other friends catapulted over the porch rail in a dash to catch the falling Pip, only for him to land in a pile of orange leaves at the tree base. Quickly, the frightened friends began to rip and tear through the leaves, trying desperately to dig their friend out. Atop the veranda, Moundshroud cast a spell with his sickly green magic, summoning a mighty whirlwind to blow the leaves away. As it passed, the four friends were left behind, but Pip was also gone.

“Where’s Pip!” hollered Featherweight.

“Pip melted!” screamed Sweetie Belle, staring at her hooves, wide eyed in terror.

“Help me! Help meeeeee!” whispered the whirlwind, which was now moving off through the sky.