What Are You Afraid Of?
SKITTISH
A Ghost Story
“Hello, and welcome to the Chalk family cemetery.”
“T-thank you,” said Cheerilee, doing her best to summon a smile for the friendly mare at the cemetery gate. She did not feel like smiling. Cheerilee had wanted very badly to avoid this.
She and Big Macintosh were chaperoning a class field day in Manehattan. Huge lines at the Museum of Science and Industry’s “Science of Fear” exhibit had delayed them, and she’d hoped this would make them too late for this last stop on their itinerary. No such luck. They were apparently just in time for the last tour. There was no way out now. No force in Equestria could keep her students from their visit to the haunted cemetery.
The mare turned to the students and said, “Good evening, young ones. I’m happy to be your guide tonight, to the most haunted place in all Equstria. You may call me… Dusty.”
The foals were so excited they almost cheered. Cheerilee herself could not see how the phrase “most haunted place” was something to cheer about.
Dusty looked to Cheerilee exactly like a cemetery guide on Nightmare Night. Her coat was white, and so pale Cheerilee thought she might have bleached it for the holiday. Against that pale coat Cheerilee could barely make out Dusty’s cutie mark; a white rosebud. Dusty wore her steel gray mane in a style that hadn’t been in fashion for over 30 years, and the frames of her glasses were even older. An antique cameo choker on a black ribbon completed the costume.
Despite her friendly demeanor, Cheerilee sensed a sadness about Dusty. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t just part of the act. It hung over Dusty like a shroud. The children didn’t seem to notice; but Cheerilee just could not resist asking, “Dear, are you all right?”
“What? Oh, yes. I am having a fine evening,” said Dusty. “But what about you Ma’am? It’s a warm night, but I noticed you shudder. You don’t want to come into my cemetery, do you?”
“No, I don’t suppose I do,” admitted Cheerilee. She wasn’t afraid of many things, but cemeteries were at the top of that short list. “But I can’t disappoint the students…”
“Please, Miss, they will be fine in my care,” said Dusty. “Nopony knows these grounds as I do.”
“I really need to stay with my students…” It went against Cheerilee’s every instinct to leave her class. She could face any fear; even a haunted graveyard in the dark on Nightmare Night eve; to remain with them. But Cheerilee had other reasons to stay behind. For one, Zecora had approached her that morning before they had left Ponyville, claiming to have received a message for Cheerilee in a dream. ‘You need not pass through the scary gate,’ the zebra had told her. ‘Fate will sort itself out if you just sit and wait.’ Cheerilee didn’t know what that meant, and she doubted Zecora did either, but it made a compelling excuse to pass on the tour.
“They are serving hot mulled cider inside the Chalk Mansion,” said Dusty. “Why don’t you and the gentlecolt sit and have a mug or two, and a pumpkin donut, and wait for us? The tour will not take long.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. “That sounds good.”
And that sold it. Cheerilee had to admit she would enjoy a little private time with Big Mac, to ‘let fate sort itself out.’ “All righty, then. Children, behave with Miss Dusty. We’ll see you when you’re done.”
With that, the foals passed through the gate and joined Dusty on the other side.
“Miss Dusty?” asked Snails. “Is this place really haunted?”
“Indeed it is,” she answered. “And until 30 years ago it was a dangerous place after dark. Many members of the Chalk family died tragically; and their angry spirits remained here. They were known to vent their anger on the living.”
Some of the foals shuddered, and others rolled their eyes to show they weren’t impressed by this hokey showmanship (while shuddering inwardly). They all stayed tightly together, and they followed Dusty closely.
“What happened 30 years ago that changed things?” asked Apple Bloom.
“A new spirit joined the resident ghosts,” said Dusty. “Or… at least that is what is said. She did not have the same anger about her passing as the others, and in death she continues to care about the living. She…is able to protect them. But that is another story. We will get to that shortly.”
Diamond Tiara whispered to Silver Spoon, “She’s like having a substitute teacher. You know, fresh meat!”
Silver Spoon giggled. But it was more from reflex than from any mirth.
“I understand young ponies enjoy a good scare around Nightmare Night,” said Dusty. “If so, you have come to the right place. There is something for every fear you have, here in my cemetery. Are any of you afraid of fire? Here lie Forge and Ember Chalk. They were lost in a fire 124 years ago. Workers near these graves often set their clothes alight on their own torches or lanterns. Two never recovered from their burns.”
The foals shifted to stand closer to the center of the path, further from the torches that lit the edge.
Dusty pointed down slope from where they stood. “Do any of you fear drowning? At the base of this hill, at the river’s edge, is the grave of Piscador Chalk, who drowned on a fishing trip. During a rainstorm 83 years ago there was a mudslide near his grave that carried much of the cemetery into the West River. Three grounds keepers were drowned.”
In the distance, there might have been the sound of a splash, but it was too faint to be sure.
Dusty stopped next to a life sized statue of a pony. “Are you afraid of monsters? This is the last resting place of Major Bullmoose ‘Both Barrels’ Chalk, renowned big game hunter. Despite royal decrees against it, he was known to poach for trophies in the Everfree Forest. It is a shame you came too late for the open house at the Chalk Mansion. Our taxidermy collection is the finest in Equestria. But it is just as well. On a night like this many ponies refuse to enter the Trophy Room. At any rate, the Major’s last trophy was supposed to be a cockatrice. This statue is not a statue. It is the Major. There is a time limit on how soon you can be restored after being turned to stone, and his bearers found him days too late.”
All of the foals’ ears shot up at a sudden hissing sound. Each might have dismissed this as just their imaginations; except when they look around and saw that all of them had heard it.
Diamond Tiara stepped forward and stated petulantly, “Well, I’m not afraid of any of those things!”
Dusty regarded her for a moment before speaking. “Dear, there is a small spider in your mane.”
“What? Eeeeeak!!! Get it off me! Get It Off ME!!!”
Diamond continued to shriek and buck and carry on until she had been assured at least 10 times that the spider had been brushed off.
“Every pony is afraid of something, children,” said Dusty.
“What scares you, Dusty?” asked Scootaloo.
The young mare sighed. “There was a time when I was afraid of very nearly everything. I was always very skittish. I was also horribly shy, and I regret that most of all. It is a shame to be afraid of your fellow ponies when you could be enjoying their company instead. Now, only one thing remains that terrifies me. To be alone in the dark.”
A chilly breeze suddenly blew through the cemetery and all the foals shuddered. At least they all blamed it on the wind.
“Everything is worse when you are alone in the dark. You can always hear something following you. But there is never anything there when you stop to look and listen. Does that mean all you’re hearing is the echo of your own hoof steps? Or perhaps whatever is following you is just very clever, and hides whenever you stop.”
Several of the children stopped and looked over their shoulders.
“Something always seems to be touching you, when you are alone in the dark. It could be a branch, or a windblown leaf, or just your mind playing tricks on you. Or it could be something else.”
Something startled a few of the foals, and they jumped.
“When you are alone in the dark the ground is littered with things that trip you. Many of them are invisible. It is unlikely that any of them actually reached out of the ground and grabbed your ankle. Mind that tree root, young colt.”
Snips stumbled and went tumbling. Snails had to help him up.
“Many ponies are lonely. The loneliest of us… I mean of them… come to believe they are used to it. You cannot lie to yourself about that when you are alone in the dark. There the loneliness returns to break your heart. It is a terrible place to be.”
On any other Nightmare Night tour this would have been the cue for the most cynical foals to roll their eyes again. None did.
“But fear not, children,” said Dusty, solemnly. “You are not alone in the dark. You are with me. And I give you my promise, I will not leave you alone in the dark.”
“Thank you, Miss Dusty,” whispered Sweetie Belle. There was a murmur of assent from the others.
They came to an imposing stone structure. Above the door was the inscription ‘For Those Who Wander Lost – Alone In The Dark. May They All Be Guided Gently Home.’ “Here we are, children. This is the New Crypt. New is a relative term, of course. It is only 50 years old. The last of the Chalk family are here. This crypt was built to hold several future generations, but there are only two occupants – Slate and Blanca Chalk. Note how the door is ajar and torches are lit inside and out. This is how the crypt is always maintained – when the Chalk family estate was willed to the Equestrian Historical Society it was on condition that the crypt be kept so, always.”
“Why is that, Dusty?” asked Apple Bloom.
“For the Chalk’s only daughter, Rosemond. She… was like me. Very, very afraid to be alone in the dark. I’m sure she would appreciate the gesture, if she were here.”
“Where is she?” asked Snips.
Dusty shook her head, sadly. “Nopony knows. She simply vanished one night. But there is a story that might explain Rosemond’s fate. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes, oh, yes please!” cried the foals.
“Then walk with me, children, and I will tell the tale,” said Dusty, starting down the path. The children hurried to stay with her.
“Because of her family’s money and position Rosemond could have become a worthless little socialite and done nothing with her life. But that was not her way. Rosemond wanted to teach. She did quite well with her studies, and she soon had a student teaching position with a classroom full of foals much like you children.”
“That’s a good thing, ithn’t it, Mith Dusty?” asked Twist.
“Well, yes it would be, but for one thing. Rosemond was a terrible teacher.”
“Oh, no! What wath wrong?”
“Poor Rosemond was skittish and shy. She was also uncomfortable speaking before a crowd. Perhaps she could have overcome this with encouragement, but Rosemond didn’t get much of that. Her class took advantage of her. Sadly, foals your age can be cruel to substitute teachers.”
“Gee, that’s a shame,” muttered Diamond Tiara, blushing.
They were interrupted by the approach of an elderly couple. Nopony saw where they came from; they seemed to appear out of a swirl of ground fog. “Excuse us, but have any of you seen our daughter?” asked the mare.
“No doubt something is holding her,” answered Dusty, smiling at them. “I ‘m sure she will make her way home as soon as she is able.”
“Thank you, Dearie,” said the stallion. He squinted at Dusty. “Do we know you?”
“We have met.”
The two old ponies wandered away into the night. “Don’t mind them, children. It’s too bad, really. They have been searching so long that they can no longer recognize their daughter… that is if they ever saw her. It is like a curse, and if their daughter ever comes home to them the curse will be broken and their memories will return. At least I hope so.”
The class, who were already staying very close together, shifted to be just a little closer.
“At any rate, back to the story. Rosemond always worked late, grading homework and tests and such. But never too late. She always wanted to be home before nightfall. But there came a bad day for her. A very, very bad day. She had confiscated a notebook her students had been passing around. It was filled with doodles and caricatures of her, all cruel and embarrassing pictures. Her feelings were crushed. Rosemond was heartbroken. She just wanted some time alone to have a good cry. But she lost track of time. Before she knew it the sun had set. Rosemond would have to walk home alone in the dark.”
At this one of the class (it sounded like Snips) let out a little squeak of fear.
“As it happened Rosemond only had to walk one block; one very scary block; before she found some company. She ran into Hammer Brick, the youngest of the city’s premier family of stone masons. Hammer offered to walk Rosemond home.”
“Uh oh,” muttered Silver Spoon.
“Oh, no!” cried Sweetie Belle.
“Oh, yes,” said Dusty. “Some of you have guessed where this is going. But poor Rosemond didn’t. She wasn’t very worldly. She was frightened and vulnerable and lonely. She would have walked home with anypony. At the time she saw the fact that it was a handsome young stallion as a plus.
“Eventually Hammer walked her all the way home to the mansion. But he was not ready to just say goodnight and let her go inside. Hammer suggested that they come back here to the graveyard to spend some private time together. And Rosemond agreed.”
“Oh, man, this story doesn’t have a happy ending, does it?” asked Scootaloo.
“I’m afraid not, Dear,” said Dusty. “If this is too disturbing we don’t have to finish…”
“Are you kidding?! Dusty, you just have to finish now.”
All the children agreed.
“Very well. As I said, Hammer led them back here where it is private, to share a few moments of romance. And while she found the attention exciting, Rosemond soon wanted to stop. Hammer did not. But Hammer had one trick left to play. Too keep Rosemond with him a few moments longer Hammer used her curiosity against her. He offered to share a secret with her.”
They came to another stone structure, this one much older than the New Crypt. It was covered with ivy and moss, and much of the stonework had been repaired. Dusty led them to the side of building.
“This is the Old Crypt. This is where Hammer brought Rosemond that night. And this is what he showed her.” Dusty reached out and touched a stone; no pony saw exactly which one; and a section of the wall slid in.
“Wow!” exclaimed Snips. “A secret passage! That is so cool!”
“Why did they build a secret door into the crypt?” asked Apple Bloom.
“That is a very good question. Rosemond asked that herself,” said Dusty. “Unfortunately, it never occurred to Hammer that she would ask this obvious question. And he couldn’t tell her the answer.”
“Why not?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“Because in addition to being stone masons, the Brick family were what was called ‘resurrectionists.’”
“What’s that?” asked Scootaloo.
“It means they were grave robbers,” said Silver Spoon.
“Indeed it does,” said Dusty. “There is a door like this installed in every crypt in the city the Brick family built or repaired. A pony would be laid to rest in the afternoon and by midnight the Bricks would take them away and sell them to an anatomy professor. Rosemond was very upset, of course. When Hammer could not quiet her any other way he pushed her. And when he saw her lying, head bloody, on the crypt floor he panicked. Hammer slammed the secret door shut and ran away.”
There were tears in the eyes of half of the class. Dusty went on as if in a trance. “If he had bothered to check he would have discovered that… she… wasn’t dead yet. A doctor might well have saved her. As it was she later revived for a while, just long enough to realize where she was and what had happened to her. It really is a shame the Brick family turned to a life of crime. They did not need to, they truly were masters of their craft. When closed this door fits perfectly, as if the wall were solid. And no pony can hear through it, no matter how loudly you scream.”
Dusty shook her head, as if to clear it. “Oh, dear, oh children, I am so very sorry! I’ve said too much, said things you shouldn’t have to hear. Please let me guide you out of here…”
“Wait! What happened to Hammer?” demanded Silver Spoon. “Something horrible, I hope!”
“If you insist then I’ll tell you,” said Dusty, sighing. “Hammer began to drink. Most likely he was driven to it by guilt; he wasn’t naturally a murderer after all, he was merely cowardly and weak. And he most likely would have drunk himself to death if he had continued. Instead, one night he ran into the river, not far from here, and drowned. Witnesses say that, ironically, he appeared to be running for his life. That was very foalish of him. What he was fleeing would not have cared to chase him.”
“Look!” cried Twist, pointing down the hill, towards the river. It was difficult to make out what she was seeing through the shadows, but it appeared to be a stallion, looking over the fence.
“No need to worry about him,” said Dusty. “He knows he isn’t welcome here, and he won’t try to come in. Now, that is enough spooky stories for tonight. It is time for you to go…”
“Wait a minute,” snapped Diamond Tiara. “This whole story is just made up! You couldn’t possibly know any of this!”
Dusty graced her with a smile. “You’re a very clever young filly. And you are right, of course. Only two ponies could have known about any of this, and both of them are long dead. For this to be a true story, I would have to be a ghost.”
Diamond just stood there with her mouth open.
Then, in the distance, a tower clock chimed.
“Oh, dear, I’ve lost track of the hour again,” said Dusty. “I am very sorry children, but I have run out of time. I cannot keep my promise.” Then she stepped into the crypt.
And the door slammed shut.
“Dusty! Miss Dusty!” Most of the class charged forward to pound on the wall and scream her name.
Every torch in the cemetery flared and went out.
“Wow!” gasped Snails. “This is the best Nightmare Night tour ever!”
“Give it up, Guys,” said Scootaloo. “She said it herself. That wall is sound proof. She can’t hear you.”
“She has to be able to hear us! She just has to!” cried Sweetie Belle, frantically. “Because if she can’t hear us then she’s all alone!”
“Just like we are out here,” said Diamond Tiara.
Apple Bloom began tapping all over the wall. “Did anypony see what she touched? Do you have any idea how to open this thing?”
None of them did. They tried pressing everything. In the dark they could barely see the wall. This made the light that suddenly shined on them all the more startling.
“Hay, you kids! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” It was a very angry groundskeeper with a lantern. Cheerilee and Big Mac were with him. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
“Mister, help us!” called Sweetie Belle. “Miss Dusty is trapped in the crypt!”
“Miss Dusty? I don’t know where you heard that name, but it’s not funny, kid.”
“The children’s guide was a Miss Dusty, Sir,” said Cheerilee.
“The last tour was over two hours ago,” said the grounds stallion. “All the guides and actors have gone home. And nopony called Dusty works here. If they did they wouldn’t ever go by that name.”
“That’s how she introduced herself, Sir,” said Cheerilee.
The older pony shook his head. “Dusty was the nickname us kids gave Miss Chalk, way back when. You know, like chalk dust? We thought it was funny, but really it was just mean.”
“You knew Rosemond Chalk, Mister?” asked Silver Spoon.
“She was my teacher, for a couple months anyway, back when I was your age. She was a skittish little thing, but that wasn’t a reason to be cruel. Miss Chalk was smart as a whip, and she always tried to be nice, even when we weren’t nice at all. She could have taught us lots of stuff, if we’d just behaved for her. And she sure didn’t deserve whatever it was that took her away from us.”
“I found it!” cried Apple Bloom, and the secret door to the crypt slid open.
“Well, I’ll be…” exclaimed the grounds keeper. He shined his lantern into the crypt, but even without the light it was obvious that nopony was there.
“Mister, shine your light a little lower,” said Apple Bloom. “There’s something on the floor.”
The light revealed the skeleton of a little pony. At its throat was an old cameo choker.
Everypony was silent for a very long time. The first to speak was Snails.
“Does this mean Miss Dusty isn’t going to step out from behind a tree, and take a bow?”
“It means we guide her gently home now,” said Apple Bloom.
“And we keep the lights on for her,” added Sweetie Belle. “So she’ll never be alone in the dark again.”
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Spooky. Wait, Oh no! Poor Dusty! I haz a sad now.
...Bravo bravo.
Not bad, not bad at all. It is a rare day when I see a 'scary' fic that doesn't depend on gruesome murder. A rare, and pleasant, day indeed. This doesn't add anything particularly new to the genre, but it acts as an effective pony analogue to that age old tale that everyone who has ever sat a campfire late into the darkest hours can easily recall. If for no other reason than a breath of fresh air from a medium you would never expect, this fic is wonderful. A common type of story in a place where no one would think to look for it, or find it. Well done, author.
Society of Syntax Socialists,
-Onyx
1975645 Thank you very much. I was trying for 'the next Headless Horse.' I think this may be as close to horror as I'm able to write.
And guys? Please stop crying. It's ok. She's home now.
Very nicely done. I love a good scary story, as long as I am not the one being scared hehe
Alt title: Crowning Moment of Heartwarming, The story.
1975700
These aren't sad tears....
Well, maybe a few sad tears.
Wow. Very nice. It actually felt like a real ghost story. Well done!
Spooky and touching. But let's not cry over Dusty. After all, like JMac said...she's home<3
Ach, ye're a regular wordsmith, ye are.
Have a 'stache.
Spooky, that's for sure. Not that I was scared, mind you.
It was a good, "innocent" scary story.
This makes me think of an ancient, wrinkly Rarity going around haunting people. You probably want "old-fashioned".
Buck!
Now i'm sad and scared. Good story J Mac,
As always
What did you mean by a hairstyle that was 30 years out of date? Like seventies or victorian? Any kind of example you could give?
1979009 Victorian. Ghost tour guides always seem to be in Victorian garb (or is that just Disney's Haunted House?) Seventies would better fit a slasher horror.
I will allow that my descriptions are a bit thin.
1979095
so like this?
fimfiction-static.net/images/story_images/67291.png?1358497656
or... what?
So awesome. Reminds me of the "Phantom Hitchhiker Prom Date" urban legend.
1979475 Oh, wow!!!!!!!
Did you notice there's a creepy optical illusion? If you stare at the image for a while Miss Dusty will smile at you.
As much as I love it, I'm not sure I can use it as a header. It's even more obvious about Dusty's true nature than my writing is. On the other hand, the story is so predictable that no amount of spoilers could possibly hurt it. I'll have to think about it.
Honestly, its up to you,
I just like the story style you have. Intresting, original OC's with good writing and story mixed in. It is fertile ground for drawing projects to distract from the crippling boredom that turn hours into years.
Plus i just got a new drawing app, and i really wanted to test it out, alot better than my childish first drawings.
P.S. your writings not perdictadle, i mean you get a bit of forshadow, but its emotonal and fun. Don't out yourself down so much.
Anyways i can alter tye image if you like, any ideas to make it less telling?
Wow...
That was excellent.
From the beginning when description says that it is "an old-fashioned ghost story" and you find out the where story takes place, you have idea how it will most likely proceed. But that's what's make it so good in the end.
It is indeed bit old-fashioned and common setup, but really beautifully executed story.
My sincere thanks to author: I really enjoyed this.
The foreshadowing in this was done wonderfully!
Nicely done.
2713852 Why, thank you very much.
This was a great story, very much the type you hear around a campfire. A great amount of tension; I'm a sucker for suspense stories, cause I just read the story and enjoy it. I don't really try and guess where it's going. So the end was a great twist moment.
Only thing I'd say to fix would be the indents. Just go back in and make them all the same length, it's not a hard thing to edit, and will really help the flow.
the parasprite sent me here. As is the case with stories he recommends, this did not disappoint. Sure, the true nature of Dusty is obvious early on, but the story doesn't suffer because of it. Rather, I think it makes things hit harder when she tells her story, and encounters that certain elderly couple. Everything she says seems to carry a lot of weight for the reader, although it is mostly lost on the characters at the time. When they finally do understand, it hits like a truck. Those last couple of lines. Wow. A story of terrible death, lost souls, and vengeful spirits couldn't ask for a more bittersweet ending.
Perhaps their discovery and the actions that followed was indeed enough to break the curse, finally bringing closure to Rosemond and her parents. Would she really be able to finally rest knowing that she is still needed to keep the graveyard safe? Maybe she continues to watch over the land, but no longer alone, in the dark.
Oh, wow. That was incredible. Creepy at all the right moments, paced extremely well, and surprisingly touching towards the end. Great job.
1975645
"I has can syntax?"
I got goosebumps when i read this. Good story.
Thanks for adding a story.
"guide".
Hey JMac! Just thought I'd let you know I finished a review on this story! Click here to check it out!
This wasn't in the Library already? Let's fix that...
tinyurl.com/mbho6go
3852354 I was actually surprised as well; I usually don't have time to check what's in and what's not before the folder gets locked. It's always good to see that seal of approval.
3852399
Yeah, but if I had realized it during a lockdown period, I could have done something about it anyway. Privileges of being an admin and all that...
Bravo... bravo....
This story has been reviewed at Society of Unappreciated Talent
Reviewed by: Surprise The Pegasus
Well...this was certainly something, I must say. Something that most definitely deserves more recognition. There were more than a few things that I thought were enjoyable about this, and one of them was the excellent grammar, spelling, and punctuation use. I'm a nazi when it comes to this kind of thing, and all I can do is applaud you. You used indentation for dialogue, used the quotation marks and commas correctly, and had proper capitalization. The word choice was rather...strange at spots, however.
<This is one of the only things I found that was off. This particular sentence doesn't really flow with the rest of the paragraph, and it was placed rather oddly. But, other than that, and this spelling error:
(It should be "guide", not "guided"), all I have to say about this is the good stuff
.
For one thing, the names of the Chalk family sound old-fashioned, which is good because they lived so long ago, and they sound like they're family. And jeez, was that creepy in the right spots! If I were those school foals, I would be pretty scared, too. Speaking of those school foals, they acted like themselves, which is great.
Good ghost character, by the way! She acts like a ghost would, sad and detached from others. Not vengeful, but sorrowful. I like it ;)
Overall, it was well paced with good grammar, and I only caught one spelling error. And the feels, oh my god...the story was "chalk" full of feels!
Final Evaluation
Category: Appreciation Needed!
Rating: 7/10
-Surprise of the S.U.A.
Sent me shivers up my spine! Great story!
freaky
I see that you submitted this to "The Closest of Friends."
While it is definitely a great story, I am unsure of how it fits into the group. I mean with your Quizical stories I can see how close she is with Sweetie Belle, but I don't see anything like that here.
If I am missing something please tell me.
4080842 No, frankly I can't even recall my reasoning (yes, the kids in the story are friends, but that's certainly not what it's about). That you for pointing this out. I've withdrawn it.
I truthfully don't ever remember favoriting this... I just found it buried in the last few pages of my favorites. Since I've been trying to catch up on and read pretty much all of the stories in my favorites I thought 'Why the hell not... I might not remember it but it looks interesting.' I was not disappointed my friend.
4454761 Thank you for your fair and kind review.
But the tour wasn't over 2 years before, it was two only hours. Cheerilee and the class came to the cemetery directly from their previous stop (which ran late) and did not know they had missed the last tour of the evening.
4470387 Thank you for your very fair review. The character at the end is there mainly to offer a rebuttal to Dusty's confession that "she was a terrible teacher." That was an honest statement, it really is how she thought of herself. But for some reason it bothered me, even more than her ultimate fate! So, I had the old groundskeeper say a few redeeming words, to let it be known that she was remembered more fondly by her students than Dusty believed. I'm too much of a softy for sad fiction, let alone horror, I guess.
I love this story, it reminds me of the ghost stories I grew up with.
This was a really creepy story, and it didn't help that I was listening to the opening to Fatal Frame 2.
Great job on this.
Your story has been featured in The Equestrian Short Story Society! We welcome you among our ranks!
Wow. I meant, just wow. The whole 'Characters don't know the other character's a ghost until someone tells them' premise is a bit cliche, but you made it work. Some sentences in the beginning are a bit too short and are phrased somewhat awkwardly, but it's nice to have seen that clear up as the story went on. Dusty was a great character, much different from the other standard ghost characters I've seen. Over all, excellent job! 4/5 stars!
writermirandastork.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/four-stars.jpg
This was absolutely fantastic. Great job!