Haunting Venue (Cold Sprout)

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Two stories, a veranda, a working bathroom, and it was all for her. Dead Beat hit the jackpot, if the jackpot happened to be an old house upon a somewhat mysterious hill. Days to herself, sleeping, singing, relaxing in the warm bath. She had everything she had at home besides the home cooked meals, but at least the place had lots of bugs to eat. On this particular night though, Dead Beat could be found on the verandas bench swing. Such a peaceful place, she swayed back and forth, the abandoned chains creaking with every swing. It was a nice place to sit and all, even if the seat was all cracked from what she could only guess was years of neglect, but it left a few wood chips in her tail and the occasional splinter in her posterior. But these problems weren't enough to bother her when it came to  such a beautiful view of the Everfree forest. All the mystery critters running in the darkness, the new sights, the new sounds, the new... scents? It was all a welcomed change of scenery. It was a mystery no pony lived here already. "♪♫ Oooooooooh~ Aaaaaaahhhhh~ Aaoooohhh~ Ohhhhhh~ Ahhhhhh~ ♫♪" She kicked her hooves back and forth in the dark of night, eyes locked on the forest." "♪♫ So here I am in the corner of a dark room... The same way I began, alone... with these mournful thoughts and a loaded gun in my hoof... But a foolish part of me still holds out for a shred of humanity~ for a queen in a robe or a knight on a steed, can't you see that I'm just a child on her knees? ♫♪" Swing... creak... swing... creak... swing... creak... swing... She stopped. "♪♫ So save... me... from... fear... and pain... and love... will rain on me. Save me... today~ Before tomorrow! Finds me at rest... ♫♪" She shivered, slouching on the swing, paint chips flaking off as she slid, watching a june bug skitter by. What was the best way to warm up from the cold? Probably a bath, and oh boy did this bat love a warm bath. Standing from her bench and whipping her tail about to shake the chips away, Dead Beat stretched her wings and flew into the upstairs window, which she had opened earlier and also overlooked the Everfree forest, incontinently enough. Finding herself in the master bathroom, a large room, tiled in black and white, not unlike herself, she plugged the extravagant marble bathtubs drain, closed the window and began filling the tub with hot water. "Ohhhh... what a wonderful night for a bath, Senator Bearclaw..." she said to her teddy bear that watched her slip into the tub, letting out a breath as the window was clouded by steam.

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The house at the end of Dreary Lane was Cold Sprout's most recent fascination. She hadn't been able to dig up too much at the local Library, as lovely as the librarian had been, but what she found was intriguing; most recently the home of a Prench baker and her family, it had been standing for generations, maybe even since Ponyville's founding, whenever that was. However, it overlooked the infamously haunted Everfree Forest—a place so thick with spirits she couldn't see the trees for all the life-beyond-life floating through it. What that must have done to its walls, the magic that seeped through such a stately home... why would they ever have left, she wondered? Just looking from the outside, little blue lantern dangling from her lips, the creaky wrought-iron gate and dusty, imposing windows reminded her of home. She slipped through the gate as the wind blew it open, her thin bag against her, the lantern glowing dim in the night. It wasn't Cold's intention to go inside tonight, better to do that with a buddy (if she got hurt, there might be nobody there alive enough to help!), but no harm in taking a look around the grounds, right? She stepped through the overgrown weeds and wildflowers, brush catching at her ankles as— ♪♫ Oooooooooh~ Aaaaaaahhhhh~ Aaoooohhh~ Ohhhhhh~ Ahhhhhh~ ♫♪ ...And every hair on her neck stood up at once. This was absolute confirmation. Not only was the house inhabited, but inhabited by a spirit strong enough to make sound manifestations! Without equipment that was incredibly rare, it took a powerful ghost to be able to sustain speech—much less a song! She knew it was improper, hasty, but she might not have another chance if the spirit was a passer. She had to make contact. She walked up the front porch, the boards creaking under her weight as she stepped—and slipped for a moment, her back leg dropping through a dip under the carpet and twisting. She flinched, but stayed quiet, her eyes moving up. ... Good. She didn't want to disturb the ghostly tenant. Her hoof throbbed and dragged behind her, but she knew a sprain, and this was just a bruise. It would be alright. After picking the lock on the front door, she entered the walk-in hallway, the lamp illuminated the rest for her. It was a fine home once, with a vanity, tables, a coat rack. Many of the former owners' things were still scattered and left around to catch dust... it had been left in more of a hurry than she thought, then. How peculiar, but then, if this spirit had passed violently it may have been no wonder. Cold padded quietly to the stairs, following the ethereal voice and the sound of running water. She knew it was dangerous, the house may have been condemned, but if this spirit had a physical manifestation as well... couldn't pass that up. She started humming a soft lullaby, very quietly, hoping to lure the spirit as she made her way with a limping drag down the dark hallway.

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"♪♫ Oooooooooh~ Aaaaaaahhhhh~ Aaoooohhh~ Ohhhhhh~ Ahhhhhh~ ♫♪" She continued her serenade as she rubbed a pleasantly rose scented decorative soap between her wings, the lather reaching her mane and messing her fur. She was in heaven... again, as this wasn't the first time she'd done this since she began occupying the house. It was so nice being clean again, sinking into the tub and blowing bubbles with her muzzle. Clunk... tumble... "Did you hear that, Senator?" Her eyes flew around the room, from spider webs to the presumably locked door to the steamed up window. "It... it was probably nothing..." she assured herself, rinsing the soap from her coat with a quick dunk under the water. Stepping slowly out of the tub, she pulled the plug in the drain and began drying herself off, rubbing the towel on her rump first, messing her cutie mark and her tail. It was a satisfying feeling, being clean. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh..." she flared her wings to let them dry, occasionally flapping them, bringing on the sound of what seemed like that of a frog trying to run. "♪♫ Ring around the rosie... a pocket full o' posies... ♫♪" "Euuuuuuggghghghghh" she shivered at the faint sound of the lullaby... What in Luna was that? It was singing, her fluffy tipped ears knew that, but from what, that was the real question. It was soft... and spooky... ... That didn't sound right at all... No one else knew she was here... and, it's... like, dark outside. Who would come here? It was bonkers and it made her shiver even more. Someone or... some thing was here, and it knew she was somewhere, lurching in the darkness. It was looking for her... dragging itself around... No... it had to be her imagination. It was just the Everfree playing tricks on her. That had to be it. But... just to be safe, she clomped to the corner in a flustered, slippery dance, and hid in the corner, draping the towel over her head, her purple bat eyes watching the room in the darkness. She wasn't scared, no way... not at all, really.

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"♫♪ Ashes, ashes, we all fall down... ♫♪" She stopped singing, then, and stopped moving, cocking her head to the side. What was that shivering noise...? A voice? Ah, it came from the bathroom, just down the hall. That must be where the spirit was at the moment. Poor thing... Cold knew how chilly it could be on the other side, even on summer's night like this. But the only way to help them find warmth again was to settle the dears. The limping, dragging hoofsteps resumed, and the eerie tinted light of her lantern began to creep under the door, wavering and ethereal, and coming closer. Closer... until the steps were right up by the door, and a shadow passed over— And it went out. ... Cold looked down at the lantern, little wisps coming out and tickling her nose. Darn. A draft must have put it out. Well, it was of little matter; spirits tended to prefer the dark anyway, and she was already here. Cold put her hoof on the door and gave it a little nudge. The door's latch was loose, and it slowly creeeaaaked open, spilling what little starlight there was out into the hallway. She set down the lantern and peeked her head in—just barely lit by the light, yet her eyes reflecting none of it, like blue-black little voids. And she turned to see a pair of bright lavender eyes peering back from what, to her, was indistinct blackness. They seemed to even be glowing back at her in the dark. There was no mistaking it, she'd found the spirit. "Found you ~ ♪"

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She shook in the corner as the singing came closer. Sweet Luna... it found her. What was she going to do, she closed the window, there was no way she could open it fast enough to get away, not that it mattered. By this time, she found herself glued to the wall in fear, eyes darting back and forth in hopes that safety would show itself. And then light. It was feint, but it was there, it was moving, accompanied by the slow, dragging step of the beast that was coming for her. Okay... it was slow, she could still get out, but her legs, they might as well have turned to stone. "Help me, Bearclaw!" She screamed in her head as she stared at the teddybear, the dragging steps moved closer and closer. Just move! ... but nothing... ... silence... where did it go? The light was there. It was outside the door. She saw it! It was right there. You can't do this to me house! Luna just kill me now! There was no way it had left, if anything, it was WAITING. It wanted her to be scared, makes the meat all tough and chewy, perfect for HUGE MONSTER TEETH that wouldn't care about GRINDING HER BONES TO DUST, sure, it was waiting for her to go to the door and look for it, just so it could do exactly that, but nope, her legs new better, just stay put, you'll be sa- Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak... The door... it wasn't locked? Why didn't she lock it! You always lock the door when you use the bathroom! This was it, Judgement Day! The beast lurching it's way through the door! Ready! TO! ATTACK! "Found you ~ ♪" Her heart sank as the blue, soulless eyes locked onto her location without a second glance. She wanted to cry, she wanted to cry as loud as she could, but she was frozen, her eyes locking with the beast's, trembling with sorrow. She whimppered as her shaking caused the towel to fall over her face. "I'm not here... I'm not here... this is just a dream, it's. ONLY. A. DREAM!" but she said no words, her bones simply rattled.

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Cold's thin little ears twitched, turning up at the sound of falling fabric. Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness in the absence of her lamp-light, but even in the splotchy impressions, she saw the frame of a face illuminated through the window, tasted a certain telltale humidity in the air, as spirits often did thicken ambient water vapor... "It's okay, little spirit," she said, stepping through the door with a gentle smile, her head low and voice soft. The eyes before her seemed wide and frightened... could it be the ghost of a filly? She lowered a little more. "Don't be scared. I know I look so very strange to you, but I promise, I mean you no harm." It was better to reassure them at first, she had found. That way they didn't run as much or immediately try and spook her off—or in the case of potentially malevolent spirits, attack. This one didn't look malevolent unless she frightened it too much, which unfortunately remained a possibility. (Dying could make one feel quite vulnerable, after all.) Her breath, still chilly, turned to mist in the warm room as she exhaled; it almost glowed in the thin light. She took the lantern and stepped all the way in, setting it down again, but not lighting anything. Not yet, at least. Her eyes were starting to adjust anyway... She was getting a better look at the spirit's manifestation now... and goodness, she was a pretty one for a ghost. Greyish face (of course), dark hair (of course), but those big, vivid eyes—like one of Auntie's most beautiful paintings, right down to the gaze that followed her. "I'm Cold," she said, as if it wasn't obvious. "Can you tell me your name, dear? Do you remember?"

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Bogus... she got all worked up over this pony, but still... the shock of the whole situation kind of broke the weak minded bat, leaving her shivering in the corner. And what was she even babbling about? Little spirit? Ow... my pride... Now that was just plain hurtful... sure she was short, but she wasn't little, heck, she was probably older than her. No way she was little, and she definitely looked strange to her. What was with those eyes? Her own may have somewhat glowed in the dark, but this filly, they just seemed dead. It was super unsettling and they just kept getting closer. "I'm Cold, can you tell me your name, dear? Do you remember?" What is this, 20 questions. First they waltz in here, trying to scare her out of her coat, and then she wants to know her name. Jeeze. "I'm... Dead Beat..." she whimpered in the darkness, still shaking, this time from actually being cold since she hadn't dried off completely. She stood up slowly and in shambles, the towel falling over her muzzle and then falling to the floor with a wet slap, her eyes following the outline of Cold noticing her build. "Man... life isn't fair, you're taller than me? Bummer... and now you got me all shaken up. I remember my name, why wouldn't I remember my name? Ugggghhh... now my heads all over the place. I'm still shaking in my horseshoes. And all for what?" Of course, she wouldn't say this out loud to somepony that just came up to her, even if she scared the living nightlights out of her. Instead, the only thing she actually said was. "Please... please don't hurt me." with her her rump to the wall and her tail between her legs..

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Poor dear... she looked so lonely and worried in there, as though she hadn't seen a living pony in years. Cold just wanted to wrap her up again and ruffle her mane and tell her it would all be okay, but of course, that could cause her to disperse. That would be terribly counterproductive... no, best to take it slow. "I know you are, dear, it's alright. And I won't hurt you. But I'm going to make a little light, okay? Please don't disappear or demanifest, I'd like to talk with you," she said, voice soft and a little lilting as she stepped just a few inches closer—and then settled down to sit on the floor, sweeping out her overly-long tail and curling it around her hooves, like some weird, creepy horse cat. She undid the strap at her side; the contents of her dark bag made clacking and creaking sounds as she took it off, like it was full of wooden things and sandbags. After loosing the buckle, she took out a simple box of matches, but the smell of weird herbs like the inside of a new-new-age tea shop wafted out after. With that done, she took a match to her mouth and struck it—the flame coming up blue. Then she dropped it into the lantern, and it illuminated the room again with a gentle blue luminance. Being on the floor, it also lit them from underneath and cast weird, creepy shadows on both of their faces. "There," she said, smiling. "Isn't that better~?"

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What in Equestria was she even on about. This slate of a pony, prattling on about something she had no knowledge of. The nerve of someponies. Demani-whoosits! She couldn't do anything like that, even if she didn't know what it meant. Probably something to do with eating foals, eugh! Just because she had fangs, doesn't mean she was a monster. How rude... Dead Beat's mind paraded around coming up with her own crazy idea of what was going on as the earth pony sat across from her, wrapping her tail around. How was that even possible? Dead Beat could only just wave hers around and snap it at bugs... bitey bugs like flies and mosquitos, and sometimes those really big mean spiders... even if they didn't fly around. She focused her vision on Cold, wondering what her next move would be... which was soon revealed to be the lighting of her lantern. "Isn't that better~?" It illuminated the washroom in an eerie blue light, the kind of light that you would probably see in a dream, maybe at the end of a long hallway that had a door, but it was only just cracked open. A light that was comforting, but made you anxious at the same time. It had started casting creepy shadows all over, creating beasts in the distance, only for it to be the shadows of things like shampoo bottles and a plunger, and even Senator Bearclaw himself. But it didn't really change anything for the most part, unless Cold was trying to intimidate her (which may or may not have worked). Dead Beat shifted her violet gaze back towards the soulless eyes, both of which were moderately covered the shadow of her muzzle. “It... d-doesn't really make a d-difference when you can see in the d-dark.” Oh wonderful! She was really cold now, complete with that darn teeth chattering shake. What even happened, stupid forest with it's stupid weather, it wasn't even suppose to be this cold yet. “What d-d-do you want? I was trying to take a bath...” she rubbed the towel around her even more to try and remove the moisture, moving from her face, to her mane, and the her rump, making sure to get it nice and dry, just in case she may have wet herself in all the excitement.

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Cold giggled darkly (this being, unfortunately, the only way she knew how) at the spirit's remark. Of course—how silly was she, thinking that it being light or dark made any difference? Although... it was a bit surprising, now that she saw her in the light, how utterly solid the mare looked. And how long she was able to keep up manifestation! Even the way that the light glinted off her pretty eyes and her damp pale-grey coat, so nearly real, almost like she wasn't... And now in the light, Cold was seeing that the ragged clothing was, in fact, a towel. She looked to the side—yes, it matched the hoof-cloth by the sink, even. She looked back over and blinked a few times, her expression falling as she stared seemingly through Miss Beat, not at the wallpaper, but more like she was trying to see the whites of her skull. "A bath," she repeated flatly, and breathed out a little more mist, looking to the fogged-up window, the wet tub... and then back to the mare. A little twist of annoyance was starting to crawl up in her chest. Had she come all this way for nothing? Here she was at the end of Ponyville, where she'd heard of a place with the darkest past she could have possibly hoped for, right at the edge of a forbidden wood, even within short pace of a forgotten graveyard, and... Oh. Oh, that could work nicely. She smiled—and showed some bright teeth in it this time. "I apologize, miss. I thought you said you were dead," she said, her tail swishing a little. "But if I'm not mistaken, you are... the living tenant of this little home? Please, dear, forgive my intrusion. The door was more or less open." A little on the 'less' side, maybe but no need to mention that... She took the lantern and stood again, holding it by the handle in the crook of her hoof, wobbling as she balanced her weight on just the good hooves. The back was still tender, and now throbbing up her leg; but she kept on that toothy half-grin and even limped forward. (It was safer to get close, now that she knew the mare wasn't going to try and pass through her. That was always a bit too chilly for comfort.) "I'm here to visit with the spirits of this place ~ if it's no trouble, would you mind showing me around your home, so that I might be able to track them down? I'll understand if you don't, of course, but..." She came closer again, dipping her head near Beat's. "I don't like to seek the dead alone, you see. They've ways of... catching the unwary living ~"

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Uh oh. Well this wasn't good at all. This wasn't Dead Beat's house. It wasn't even some sort of summer home owned by her family. It was just some dank, old, musty house. She didn't know anything about it, let alone if there were spirits lurking nearby. Bat eyes can peer through darkness, but they don't see dead ponies... unless said dead pony was none other than Dead Beat. This was what you could call quite the pickle. Come to think of it, how long had Dead Beat been staying here? What were the rules when it came to squatting in Equestria? Is the pony who even owned this house still alive, and, for that matter, if they were, where in Equestria were they? These were all questions that entered her mind as she stared blankly into the earth ponies lantern, her eyes glimmering as it's flame danced. “I... I... I-I-I-I could show you around, but...” Her gaze shifted around the room as the slate pony stood there with her lantern, only having just caught a glimpse of her limp closer. “but... what kind of spirits are you here to visit with? I don't... want anything bad to happen to you with that limp of yours.” Smoooooooth. No way she was going to figure out ol' Deb wasn't the owner. Swish, she'll just go right over her head with it. “We should treat it or... something? Did you sprain it, or, twist something?” Her eyes became shifty as she tried to dodge the subject. No way she was getting evicted, no way, no how.

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Funny. This girl seemed more concerned about a boring old Earth Pony wandering into her home, than the idea that there might be spirits of any sort right under her very nose? … Well, that spelt good news for Cold. It meant she wasn’t squeamish about the paranormal. Maybe she would be doing this with a partner of sorts after all ~ and who ever said a little initiative never solved anything? She lifted the leg and looked back at it, rolling the hoof a bit and wincing. “Ah… I am afraid I sprained it on the porch. There is a broken board underneath the doormat,” she explained, calm as anything. “But I’m sure it will be alright. If your presence hasn’t already angered them by now, there must not be any too strong. Just cute little lingerers and sprites, I am sure ~ bet they couldn’t even fog up a window ~ but … that said, it would be nice to bind the hoof, at least.” With that, Cold hobbled over the slick tiles toward where one of the sinks stood, set the lamp back down and leaned herself up, balancing on the sink for her leverage. She popped open the medicine cabinet and rooted around for some first-aid supplies. Where it swung, the mirror turned towards Dead Beat… and her batty eyes could see the words written in the steam, just as they were disappearing. ＧＥＴ ＨＥＲ ＯＵＴ “You… really ought to check the expiration dates on your medicines, dear ~” said Cold, stepping back down with a roll of gauze and shutting the cabinet. “You know some of the things in there are quite out of date?” None the wiser to the strange message, apparently, she lifted her hind leg and bent down, clumsily trying to wrap it. She did not seem at all accustomed to doing this, though, and kept accidentally biting through the wrap.

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She froze in place, the words shining from the lantern as the cabinet opened and she whispered... eye's trembling, "Get... her... out..." No, no, that wasn't right at all, she saw her walk in, Cold couldn't have wrote it, no, the strokes were too messy to be made by hoof, especially with her eyes following the earth pony ever since she entered. Nothing about the message made sense, even if the words were rather simple, well, other than out... but they were both mares. Was there something here, and did it actually not care about Dead Beat staying? Such a bogus situation, what was it about Cold that had set it off? She watched as Cold fumbled with the bandages, felling really bad about not helping her, see looked so lost with them, but the message had glued her to the wall... again, and... no, no, were not gonna go into that. She waved to Cold as if to beckon her over, but she probably wouldn't notice with her troublesome bandages. "Just say something, stupid" ... her bones rattled, "Just say her name." ... her hooves clattered, "Saaaaaaaaay it..." ... her teeth chattered, "SAY IT!" "COLD!" Yeah! She did it, ugh... she really needed to learn how to actually talk when she was scared. "Th-th-the... the m-m-m-m-m-m-m... m-m-m-m... mirror..." She held her hoof up, limp and shaking, her lips trembling as she stammered out the sign, pointing at the words that were scrawled upon it. If Dead Beat could see it from there, there was no way Cold would miss it with a lantern. She shut her eyes and held them tight, hoping this was a bad dream, and her momma would wake her up soon, as she use to.