Sequel to:
Ponebin link: https://poneb.in/qpCg6UvD
Archive.com link: https://web.archive.org/web/20210705225546/https://pastebin.com/qpCg6UvD
(Warning, the previous story is REALLY weird and might not interest you unless you're into stupid fun)
 
>Snow, dirt and dead grass span the flat landscape out here.
>The wind is free to blow around uninterrupted, having had no problems forming strong tornadoes six months ago.
>Big Mac doesn’t take the fact that his home hasn’t been hit yet for granted; he’s thankful for having kept everything so far, including his own life.
>He takes a deep breath with his hands on the steering wheel in his trusty pickup truck, turning it on in front of the hardware shop after he got a little bit more of the necessary items for braving through the rest of this winter.
>”Well I’ll be seein’ ya later.” Braeburn waves him off as he pulls out of the parking space of tar-less gravel. “Say hi to Granny Smith for me.”
>”Eyup.” Big Mac responds with a friendly nod before driving off down one of the roads he knows by heart in the general direction of the market he plans to stop at before heading home.
>It had been a hot as hell summer, and fall has been cozy, and it’s a good thing city-slickers never come this far out into the rural countryside with their problems.
>If anything, they’d stick close to the highway that’s more than twenty miles in the distance from Big Mac’s town if they even do come out here in the summer, but it’s winter anyway.
>Now temperatures drop below freezing, and keeping warm is a necessity for anyone staying somewhere around here overnight at this time of year.
>On the highway, two out-of-towners stick out like a sore thumb, a couple of college dropouts who figured living off the land would be a good idea.
>Decided to stay roommates as they move into their new place that they deliberately chose to be all the way out here in a super rural area.
>”I just hope that last soils course was enough, dude.” Norman is the one driving as Nolan has the passenger seat reclined. “We’d be lucky if we have enough food to last till spring.”
>”There’s definitely going to be some store in town or something. If the situation comes to it then we’ll resort to that.”
>Norman groans as he stares as the seemingly never ending road leading them further through the great plains.
>”The locals ought to warm right up to us after a bit. We are moving into the property legally, after all.” Nolan continues to Norman. “That Meryl guy is the one who chose to move out. And with a low price too.”
>”How long do you think it’ll be till we start talking like the people here?” Asks Norman.
>”I give it… a year, maybe?”
>”Then again, it depends if this even works out.”
>”Well it’s GOING to work out, dude.” Insists Nolan.
>”You’re weirdly optimistic about this.”
>”What other choice do we have? Go back to the university and sink the rest of our money into there? Screw that, we’re gonna learn how to live off the land.”
>”But we’ll have enough internet to learn any extra farming stuff we’d need, right?”
>”We can learn from the locals too, dipshit. Not like they can’t teach us a technique or two.”
>”I dunno why you think the locals are going to suddenly want to help out a couple of outsiders start farming. Isn’t it kind of a ‘you either already know or don’t know’ sort of thing?”
>Nolan scoffs. “C’mon, man. You gotta at least try. The college probably already shut down after all the stuff that happened there.”
>”Preservation of the local subculture is important, man.”
>”We’re literally going to conform to and follow the local subculture, dude. You don’t have to worry about looking like you’re gonna be changing a damn thing.” Nolan looks back down at the GPS. “Anyway, our exit is coming up.”
>”If we both get shot by the end of the week, it’s your fault.” Norman tells his still-roommate who replies with a sarcastic giggle. “Bonus points if it’s shotgun blasts.”
>”Whatever, just don’t miss the exit.”
~
>Off of the highway the two young men drive, and they continue down a more narrow local road that also goes for miles and miles.
>They don’t even consider what cars from the highway might still be behind them as they pass through the small town looking for a grocery store.
>Couple of farmer’s markets and stuff, etc.
>They leave out through the other edge of the town and head over to the address they have written down through a few turns, some of which take a boring while of non-stop driving through near-nothingness to reach.
>This state sure is flat as hell.
>And making this even more bizarre to these new urban folk, this entire region is just as empty as it is flat.
>Nothing but farmland and some small power lines that follow the side of the road, with the occasional house, barn, silo or something to pass by every several minutes of driving.
>After a few more minutes of this, Norman and Nolan finally make it to their destination.
>Basically a fairly large two story house with a barn out back.
>They can already see how old it is, imagining all the history the place has, and the Meryl guy looks exactly like he did in the picture.
>Somewhere in his 70s or 80s, thin as a toothpick, a little bit of a senile vibe to him.
>Talking to the guy doesn’t prove interesting or noteworthy.
>He just seems pretty eager to move out of this house he’s been in for years on end, tight-lipped about whichever family owned it before him back from the 1910s to the late 1970s when he bought the place from them just like how Norman and Nolan are doing with him now.
>Stuffing their winter coats into a hall closet, the two dropouts manage to get a few tips and pointers about farming out of him that they didn’t know yet, but Meryl is overall pretty dull and simply glad to move away to somewhere else.
>The man didn’t talk about much else, and gave the two younger men the keys and paperwork etc. to the house before a few more minutes had passed.
>Didn’t even take the time to show them the second floor, but there were already pictures on the advertisement.
>He soon drove away, leaving Norman and Nolan eager to explore the place they just bought.
>”Well that didn’t take long.” Comments Nolan.
>”I guess it helps that we didn’t need to pack much, and he left us all of his furniture.” Says Norman.
>Glancing over at an old dusty lounge chair, he winces slightly.
>”Kinda.” Norman adds.
>”Let’s check out the second floor.” Nolan leaves the living room and heads up the creaky stairs.
>The first floor of this place was your standard “entrance branches out into a dining room on one side and a living room on the other”, with an open hallway straight ahead leading to where the kitchen is with the stairs next to said hallway.
>Lots of houses in and out of movies are designed like this, it’s really common and rather easy to predict what the second floor would look like.
>Which is a couple of hallways leading to bedrooms, bathrooms and closets.
>With a final door leading to the stairs that go up to the attic.
>”Cool, let’s eat.” Norman concludes as he’s already halfway back towards the stairs.
>”Do we still have the lunchables or did you eat them already?” Asks Nolan. “I can’t remember.”
>”Nah I didn’t have them yet. You can have one.”
>They sit next to eachother in the chairs along the length of the kitchen table with the lunchables in front of them, the head and foot of the table on either side of them.
>”So what about the barn out back? We gonna go check that out?” Asks Norman.
>”It’s gonna be warmer tomorrow I think. I just wanna chill and settle in first. Unless you’re fine with going alone.”
>”Pssh, you say that like it’s dangerous.”
>Nolan chuckles with the stiff little circular “pizza” clamped between in his teeth. “It’s just a barn, dude. I just don’t wanna go cause it’s cold right now.”
>”It’s fucken’ January. It’s not going to be not cold until at least three months from now.”
>Yes, a very good idea to go straight from dropping out of college to moving onto a farm in the middle of winter and try to learn how to live off the land as you go.
>These are surely the actions of people who know what they’re doing.
>It was agreed upon that these two would face the brunt of the difficulty in the dead of winter while living off of stocked up food they brought with them, in turn making actually growing one’s own food easier in the warmer part of the year.
>Plus, they need time to buy a tractor and tons of other supplies and necessities. Unless there’s a tractor in the barn already, but Meryl left in a hurry before that possibility could be addressed.
>This is the logic of the whole decision to move out here at this time of year, at least in Norman and Nolan’s heads.
>And they figure they’ll get the hang of it and develop as independant men as life continues to challenge them.
>This place is a decent amount of acres, but they’ll get to know it in due time.
>It’d probably help if they get a third and fourth person living with them to help out, even though this Meryl guy went about it alone, apparently.
>”Well we should at least get all the cans of food and stuff into the basement.” Says Norman.
>”Yeah, you’re right.”
>With that, the two finish their lunchables, put their coats back on and go back out to the car they drove here in to move the large amounts of food they brought with them.
>The wind starts to pick up after a couple of minutes, and the end of the day is drawing near, so they better hurry up.
>Right around this time, a pickup truck drives by the house.
>It’s Big Mac of the Apple family, on his way back to his own farm down the road when he notices a car in Meryl’s driveway he’s never seen before, with these two guys in unfamiliar winter coats moving large amounts of what appears to be food stuff into the house.
>The house is at least a couple hundred feet away from the road, so it’s hard to tell at this distance.
>But just like practically everyone else around here, Big Mac recognizes a non-local when he sees one.
>He’s not much of a talker, so he shrugs it off and returns his mind back to the rest of the busy day that’s still ahead of him.
>He’ll probably say hello to them tomorrow if they’re still there.
>If they’re not still there, well then that answers that.
>The pickup truck continues down the road as Norman struggles towards the door with a clumsily gathered mountain of ravioli and soup cans.
>Nolan’s still rummaging through the car. “You go ahead of me, dude. I’ll catch up.”
>”Alright.”
>To Norman’s surprise, the cans didn’t go crashing down out of his arms at any point during the time he was carrying them.
>Not a single can.
>Must be good luck.
>Nothing even happens on the croaking stairs on the way down to the musty basement.
>”Ngh, it’s freezing down here.” Norman grunts under his breath as he continues into the pitch blackness before realizing he should have turned the light on first.
>And he definitely could have, because the electric bill was already moved over to his name.
>Of course, those first time chills make Norman feel a little nervous about the pitch black basement he never saw yet.
>But it’s completely silent down here so far, no spooky ghosts, vampires, werewolves or anything down here.
>The only thing Norman needs to do is get down the final third of the basement stairs and he can probably just dump the cans onto the floor wherever he sees fit.
>The basement’s unfinished anyway; this was in the advertisement and there’s no reason to lie about that.
>After a couple of seconds trying to keep his balance on the stairs, Norman hears a few faint footsteps somewhere on the first floor through the loud creaking sounds the stairs are making.
>”Yo Nolan! Could you give me a hand with the light switch?” He maintains his balance the best he can.
>No answer, and the creaking was too loud to be able to confirm if there actually were footsteps up there.
>The front door momentarily opens.
>”Norman?” Nolan can be heard entering the house.
>”Down here, dude.” Norman calls up. “I don’t know where the light switch is and I’m holding all this shit!”
>”I gotcha.” Nolan follows Norman’s voice to the basement stairs, finds the switch and flips it. “Well damn, you got down those stairs fast.” He glances in the direction of the kitchen where he just saw who he thought was Norman just a few seconds ago. “How did you do that?”
>Norman, now distracted by the fact that he can see the entire empty basement, half-intentionally relieves his tired arms of the cans by letting them tumble to the concrete floor below.
>The sounds is deafening.
>”I don’t think I’ve ever gone that long holding that much stuff.” Pants Norman. “That’s gotta be a new record.”
>”Don’t stress yourself out too much.” Nolan grabs the plastic bag of boxes and cans he was carrying and steps down the creaky stairs himself. “Aw crap, it’s way too cold down here.”
>”I know! It’s like walking down into a giant fridge.”
>”Yeah, we should get some perishables down here.” Jokes Nolan from halfway down the stairs. “Don’t even know why you were bothering with the kitchen’s fridge, this one’s like a hundred times bigger.”
>”Make that a thousand times.” Norman points from the middle of the room. “It keeps going. Look.”
>The unfinished room the stairs lead down to connects to an unfinished hallway a little ways behind the stairs.
>Nolan can now see how big this first room is and how far it expands behind the stairs before he even notices where the hallway is. “Well where the hell does that lead?”
>”Uh, more basement, obviously?” Norman looks around for an additional light switch for the darkness the hallway extends into. “Maybe it’s just a storage room at the end of that.”
>There are no more light switches to be found, and the previous one wasn’t even down here, it’s upstairs.
>”I guess there’s like, no lights over there.” Nolan peers down the hallway before grinning. “You should go explore over there.”
>”Do it yourself, pussy.” Norman lightly punches him in the arm.
>”Nah I’m good.”
>The two don’t have time to do more than drop the food off and head back up to the car for more anyway.
>Boxes and bags, cans and bins, all sorts of things with various food items in them are all brought down to the basement for storage.
>And there is a LOT of it.
>But even then, both of the young men have a feeling they might not be here long enough to need all of this food.
>The sky outside gets darker, and the air gets colder, and the inside of the old house gets creepier looking.
>And the nearest neighbor is about a quarter mile away.
>A hunter’s moon is high in the sky tonight.
~
>”That you, Big Mac?” Granny Smith calls out from her rocking chair.
>”Eyup.” He gives his typical answer for the millionth time in his life.
>”What took ya so long?”
>”Ah got a little held up at the hardware store, they needed to do a quick re-stock but Braeburn helped me out with that.”
>”But ya got the fancy new wrench, right?”
>”Eyup, right here.” Big Mac pulls it out of the shopping bag. “Braeburn said to tell ya hello.”
>”Tell him ah still need mah gosh darn garden hose replaced.”
>”I was just at the hardware store! Why didn’t you tell me?”
>”Ya left before you could tell me. Maybe you should let me know when yer leavin more often and ya won’t be missin’ things.” Granny Smith waves her finger. “Ah told ya you gotta make sure first.”
>”Aw shucks, well all right. Ah guess I’ll go tomorrow. Anyway, ah got some news.”
>”Yeah?”
>”We might have some new neighbors.”
>”Is that so?” Granny Smith looks intrigued.
>”Saw a couple of young fellas moving boxes and food stuffs into Meryl’s house on my way back just now. Ah guess Meryl wasn’t kiddin’ when he said he wanted to move away.”
>”Well I’ll be damned! Meryl’s actually leavin’?”
>”Eyup.”
>”Well I ain’t bakin’ no fruit pie for them new folks if that’s where this conversation’s goin’.” Granny Smith crosses her arms.
>Footsteps approach from elsewhere in the house.
>”Ah hear we’re gettin’ new neighbors?” Applejack enters the room.
>She tosses aside the handkerchief she was just wiping the barrel of her firearm with.
>”Right down the road.” Answers Big Mac with a sigh as he cracks his neck. “Apparently two young fellas moved in.”
>”Did ya meet them yet?”
>”Nope. Didn’t get a good look at ‘em on mah way back.”
>”You remember Meryl, though. Right Applejack?” Asks Granny Smith.
>”Ah think ah do.” Applejack tries to recall.
>”He was a very nice man. Ah wonder why he left so suddenly without even tellin’ us.”
>”Beats me.” Big Mac is already on his way back to the garage. “Ya know, ah might go over there tomorrow and see who them new folks are.”
>”Well hold on, now. Let’s not be too friendly here. They could be from the city for all we know.”
>”Ah doubt I’ll leave that much of a friendly first impression.” Smirks Big Mac. “City slickers git offended by every other thing nowadays. If anythin’, this’ll be a way to tell if they’re from a decent place or not.”
>”Big Mac, ah still don’t think you should go over there to meet them. Especially not the very next day. At least let them settle down before checkin’ on them. We don’t even know these people. How many of them did you say you saw again?”
>”Two fellas so far. Looked ‘bout mah age.” Big Mac’s voice echoes from the garage. “Didn’t come off as the workin’ type though. ‘Least not from what ah saw.”
>Granny Smith gives Big Mac a look when he comes back with his tool box. And Big Mac already knows what this look means.
>Applejack picked up on it too. “Aw come on now, Granny Smith. I’m sure it’s not like that.”
>”And how do you know them two young fellas ain’t the only ones livin’ in that house? You sure one of them wasn’t a young lady, Big Mac?”
>”We talked about this, Granny Smith. You promised ya wouldn’t jump to conclusions like that.” Replies Big Mac. “Ah saw two fellas so far but I’m sure they had more family in the house.”
>”How do you know they’re even family? This is how it always starts. One of them backwards city couples picks an innocent town like ours to move in to, and they wind up only bein’ the first of many. Ah know how this story goes.” Granny Smith slowly stands up. “One thing leads to another and next thing ya know, yer kids are goin’ to school with classmates who got dyed hair. Ya got drug dealers comin’ here to stay clear of city cops. Ya got… ya got…” She starts to ramble and rant.
>”Granny Smith, please.” Applejack tries to calm her down.
>”Well what were they wearin’?” Asks Granny Smith, turning back to Big Mac. “Did it look like city clothes?”
>”C’mon now, Granny Smith. Dontcha think this is a little unnecessary? As long as they keep to themselves, we ain’t got nothin’ to be concerned about.” Assures Applejack.
>”Ah doubt they’re from any kind of city anyway.” Adds Big Mac. “City folk have always been scared to come out here. Whether it be cause of tornadoes, lack of them dance clubs or what have you.”
>”Yeah, that’s right.” Agrees Applejack.
>”Well ah ain’t gon’ trust them one bit till ah know their principles.” Conveys Granny Smith with an almost proud-looking pout. “But you stay away from them till we know who they are, you understand, Big Mac?”
>”If it’ll keep ya in a good mood, I’ll go ahead and hold off on that.” Replies Big Mac as he starts looking for something to fix.
>”And Applejack…” Granny Smith sits back down. “If anything funny happens in the middle of the night, you and Big Mac know what to do.”
>Applejack resists the urge to roll her eyes, out of respect for her grandmother. “All right. I’ll keep mah rifle extra close just in case.”
>”Atta girl.” Granny Smith nods sharply.
>Big Mac keeps wondering how their first night at the place is going.
~
>”So like, we probably gotta learn how to farm pretty quick.” Nolan says to Norman as he watches him try to hook up the small flatscreen TV from the couch. “Do you think it’s gonna be harder than our classes made it look?”
>”Dunno yet.” Norman struggles with a couple of wire connections. “Anything happening?”
>”Nope, screen’s still blank.”
>”Damn it, I thought we already had cable out here. Or satellite or whatever it is now.”
>They’ve been tinkering with the TV for almost an hour now but can’t figure out how to set it up correctly.
>It doesn’t help that they’ve usually had it done for them every other time before having to move into their own place on their own.
>At least the electricity’s on, and Norman’s been able to make sure everything else works alright, mainly the pluming.
>”I’m getting homesick already.” Complains Norman as Nolan takes a turn flipping through the booklet.
>”Hey now.” Nolan looks up from the booklet. “Canterlot City could be overrun by zombies by now.”
>”Zombies?” Norman raises an eyebrow.
>”Well that’s what people reported from that trailer park near the university.”
>”That’s just the news, dude.”
>”I know, but even they wouldn’t exaggerate something this far.”
>”C’mon, don’t be stupid. Are you messing with me right now?”
>”I’m not, dude. I’m just saying.”
>”You watch too many movies, man.”
>More of their reasons for coming here in the first place keep leaking into their casual conversations the more they find difficulty settling in, namely hooking up the TV.
>One of them is a girl they don’t remember the name of whom Norman wanted to ask if she wanted to move in with them out of town, which fell through because he never got around to it.
>So now it’s just the two of them without a third person with them, though a girl probably would have never agreed to such a thing like moving out here with two male strangers anyway.
>Anyone with more than half a brain can see the implications of that, whether the intentions are actually there or not. It’s just not going to happen.
>She may have acted weird but they could tell she wasn’t stupid.
>And everyone they actually asked to move in with them to add to the group was already going to somewhere else new to live after the campus shut down for unknown reasons.
>So these two are mostly up the creek unless they can manage to do everything without anyone else helping them; growing and living off of one’s own food is a LOT more complicated than most people think.
>Norman and Nolan don’t want to admit they’re starting to doubt their moving decisions, but that doubt lifts a little bit when they finally manage to get the TV hooked up by around 8:30 PM.
>The two longtime friends immediately heat a couple of microwave dinners at eat it in front of a talk show in celebration, lazily plopped onto the couch as the mood they’re more used to finally set in as the night continues.
>”We’re gonna be better off than if we stayed there, dude. Trust me.” Nolan says with a mouthful of cheap mashed potatoes. “All we gotta do is start acting like the locals here and they’ll help us out.”
>”I heard you the first time today. I still don’t think it’s gonna happen like that. I still think you’re being a little too optimistic about this one, dude.”
>”Oh come on, you’re not even giving it a chance. At least say you told me so AFTER someone in the grocery store or wherever tells me to take a hike.”
>”That’s fair, but I’m just calling it like I see it. I’ve met people from places like this before and it’s not likely they’re going to help people from out of town they don’t already know.”
>”Maybe I’ll go to the store tomorrow and prove you wrong.”
>A loud thump upstairs interrupts the conversation.
>Norman and Nolan look up at the ceiling, waiting for a possible second sound to happen.
>”The hell was that?” Asks Nolan.
>”Something probably fell over. Maybe my duffle bag.” Norman explains in a calm voice.
>The two of them silently stare up at the ceiling, still waiting for anything else to happen.
>Unexpectedly, a second thump sounds in the same spot from upstairs.
>Nolan jumps at the sound, widening his eyes and staying on the couch as Norman stands up.
>”You’re not gonna stay there, are you?” Norman looks back as he’s on his way to the stairs.
>”It’s just house noises, dude.”
>”Stop being a pussy, come on. I’m not going up there alone.”
>”I’m not a pussy, man.” Nolan stands up and walks ahead of Norman. “It’s probably just nothing.”
>”Well… just in case.” Norman stares up the dark stairs, looking for the light switch.
>He can’t remember where it was on the wall, because he’s not feeling it where his hand is expecting it to be.
>Nolan goes closer to the front door and tries the wall there.
>”It’s here.” He flips the switch on, letting the front area of the house light up.
>The two of them nervously gaze up the stairs, as if they’re expecting a ghost to come out from around the corner and follow the old looking railing to the top of the stairs to greet them.
>”Aren’t you gonna go?” Asks Nolan.
>”I need something to use as a weapon first.” Norman heads back into the kitchen. “Stay there.”
>Almost slightly offended, Nolan squints and tilts his head. “The hell you mean stay here? I’m not a 4 year old.”
>”Just wait there, dude.” Norman disappears into the kitchen.
>Nolan waits for half a minute.
>In a bout of anger and spite, Nolan heads up the stairs unarmed after several more seconds.
>”Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Norman comes trotting back with a kitchen knife in his hand.
>”It’s probably nothing. Like you said, your bag probably fell over.”
>”Twice?”
>”Maybe it was open and two things fell out.” Nolan makes it to the top of the stairs with Norman staring at him wide-eyed.
>”It’s zippered closed!” Norman quickly follows his longtime roommate up the creaky steps with a rapid pace.
>”Hey! Careful where you’re pointing that thing.” Nolan retreats up into the darker portion of the upstairs open area where the light doesn’t reach as well.
>”Well get out of the way, dude! God!”
>The two of them fall silent until they find another light to flip on in the upstairs hallway.
>They check all of the bedrooms; each of the ones they put their luggage in and the extra two bedrooms that are still vacant.
>”Aw what the fuck? This place really does have a master bedroom!” Groans Norman as he discovers that one of the bedroom doors he didn’t check leads to such.
>”Dibs.” Nolan quickly lurches over.
>”I found it first! Too late!”
>Norman steps into the room to find that there’s already a large bed and a dresser in the room, probably previously belonging to Meryl before he moved out.
>He feels around for a light switch, which is surely in here and functioning since the guy who last lived here slept in this room, at least presumably.
>”Where th-HOLY SHIT!” Norman jumps back, knocking himself into Nolan.
>”What?!” Nolan struggles to maintain balance.
>”Oh god… is that a doll?” Norman glares back into the dark room. “Damn, that fuckin scared me.”
>”What doll?” Nolan peers over Norman’s shoulder. “Is that it? That thing?”
>”Look at that doll, dude. Holy shit, what the hell? Literally why?!”
>”There’s no way that thing wasn’t made to look creepy. There’s just no way. Meryl had to put it there on purpose. He just bamboozled us, dude.”
>The two of them jokingly laugh and Norman momentarily picks up the doll and starts waving it around in Nolan’s face.
>”Dude, stop! That thing’s creepy as hell.” Nolan winces. “Put it in the basement or something.”
>”Yeah, that’s exactly what I’d like to be aware about every night. This creepy ass doll in the dark unfinished basement. Totally not nightmare fuel.”
>”Well… the hell do we do with this damn thing then?”
>”Lock it in a box then put it in a vacant room’s closet or something, I dunno. Or we coul-”
>”Wait wait wait… Meryl lived here alone, right?” Nolan infers. “I remember he said he did.”
>”Yeah, he did.”
>”He’s like a 70 year old man. What would he be doing with this doll?”
>”OoOoOooh, maybe it’s not hiiiiiis!” Norman banters in a ’spooky’ voice.
>”Fuck you, dude.” Nolan crosses his arms.
>”Nah but like, for real. Let’s just throw it out. Or at least email Meryl about it.”
>”You mean through the guy’s Craigslist email? That thing’s probably going to be gone by tomorrow. If those things really are temporary.”
>”I’m pretty sure they’re not.”
>”Well we can’t just throw this guy’s property away that he probably forgot about. It’s only right if we ask him about it.”
>”That means we gotta get the internet set up too.”
>”Can’t you get email on mobile?”
>”It’s too annoying that way. Let’s just set up a wifi hotspot for now.”
>The two guys carry the extremely creepy doll back down the the kitchen, continuously joking about it.
>They set up a quick wifi hotspot with their phones so Nolan can use his laptop to email Meryl about the doll that was left behind.
>”Watch him respond all like ‘I don’t got no doll’ tomorrow morning.” Grins Norman.
>”Shut up.” Nolan elbows him in the arm. “Anyway, there’s no fuckin way we’re keeping this thing in here overnight.”
>”Well yeah.” Norman instantly agrees, still getting chills from how creepy the doll looks.
>”Does this thing even HAVE a mouth?” Nolan takes a closer look at it. “Who would even make a doll like this?”
>They debate regarding whether or not to throw the doll out all the way up until they go to bed.
>…
>If it weren’t for the small “incident”, it wouldn’t have been awkward sleeping in the living room tonight.
>Nolan and Norman don’t want to admit it to eachother (or even themselves), but they’re scared shitless on the inside.
>From the unknown dark second half of the basement to that super creepy doll they found sitting on the bed in the master bedroom to the fact that they didn’t even bother looking at the master bathroom yet, and the fact that this place in general is just old and creepy looking, Norman and Nolan aren’t having an enjoyable first night here.
>They both know they’re too scared to sleep in their bedrooms yet, but they play it off as being for some other made up reason.
>With the doll taped tightly into a box in a hall closet, they stay up talking to eachother in the pitch blackness.
>The topic of the university incident comes back into conversation.
>”I haven’t been that creeped out by something since that tall nerd girl was stalking us after everyone had to leave the campus.” Norman brings up.
>”Seriously? I still don’t think she was stalking us.”
>”Think about it, man. Everywhere we went, she seemed to also be. Especially the library computer lab.”
>”Well… that part was definitely our fault. We should have picked off campus housing with internet so we wouldn’t go somewhere in town where there would obviously be weird nerdy students with nowhere else to go.” Deduces Nolan.
>”I just find it weird how she was also in the fast food places with us. And the grocery store.”
>”Coincidence, dude. Besides, we’re far far away from that town now regardless. She’ll probably wonder where the hell we went after she notices we’re gone in a couple of days.”
>”Maybe.” Responds Norman. “I hope that at least the locals around here will be more friendly to us.”
>”Hey, don’t jinx it. And they already will.” Reassures Nolan. “Just chillax about that before the universe decides to have one of the locals come over and shoot us or something.”
>”Well if this house is haunted, they’ll have to beat the demons and ghosts to us.” Jokes Norman, cleverly lightening the mood for both concerns.
>Nolan chuckles, forgetting about the doll in the closet within a few minutes and falling asleep.
>Norman stays up for another hour, listening into the pitch blackness with fear reasserting itself into him.
>But nothing further happens, and he eventually find his fatigue overpowering that fear he was feeling.
>He gets a few hours of sleep before the sun rises.
>…
>The sun begins to rise.
>At a nearby motel, almost all of the guests are sound asleep. Almost.
>There is one guest who has developed a nocturnal sleeping pattern, a deliberate one.
>For the sake of being up when no one else is around to notice anything suspicious happening.
>There is a lamp on the night stand that is about to be turned off, illuminating a piece of paper on the surface that has the address of the house Norman and Nolan are staying in.
>Next to the paper is a brand new notebook of visions and premonitions this guest has experienced while asleep, all of them written down on paper the way a properly insane person would do it.
>And next to the notebook is the chiseled under-barrel of a shotgun.
>The lamp is switched off, and the guest goes to sleep for now.
~
>Another early Saturday morning it is for Big Mac.
>He’s already out of bed and working on the tractor out back, making sure everything is in check every day and nothing will need to be replaced by the time spring rolls around with crop season in tow.
>The cold weather’s starting to get to things that might freeze beyond quick repair, at least that’s what usually happens around this time.
>He works on the tractor, re-organizes the things in the barn, makes sure the fields are completely bare where there’s not snow covering everything, etc.
>Just a little bit of double checking every now and then wouldn’t hurt.
>It’s going to be a past-paced spring when the warmth starts coming back, and getting things done as efficiently as possible is a necessity for the people around here.
>Big Mac just likes to stick to his daily routine so he’s completely used to it.
>The Apple Farm also needs to ship grain to various places, as well as handle other responsibilities.
>And there’s a good chance Big Mac isn’t going to stay home today either, just like yesterday and the day before.
>Other than that, the rest of the winter’s going to be mostly uneventful and simply waiting out the next couple of months until it’s time to start getting things moving again.
>Gotta get the rust off the old gears, get the dust off the old shears.
>Applejack is eating an early brunch with Applebloom as Big Mac’s truck starts up then momentarily heads off and down the road.
>Granny Smith is still asleep.
>”So does this mean we’re never gonna see Mr. Meryl ever again?” Asks Applebloom.
>”That’s what it’s lookin’ like.” Responds Applejack. “He always seemed like a strange man, from what ah could tell. Granny Smith and Big Mac knew him the most.”
>”Ah wonder where he moved to.”
>”That’s a good question. Ah can’t imagine where else he’d want to live after bein’ here for so long.”
>”You should ask the people livin’ there now where he went.” Applebloom suggests.
>”Nah, that wouldn’t be fair to Granny Smith’s wishes. She don’t want no one goin’ near any new neighbors until we know exactly who they are.”
>Applebloom puts down her spoon. “But ah heard y’all talkin’ last night. She only told Big Mac not to go over there, not you.”
>”Aw, ah know how ya feel, sugarcube. But it’s implied that she doesn’t want me goin’ over there neither.”
>The two continue to debate whether or not it would go against Applejack’s morals to go over to the house formerly owned by Meryl and check it out regarding whoever’s living there now.
>Granny Smith clearly said to Big Mac that she doesn’t want him or Applejack going over there, but she didn’t say anything to Applebloom.
>Applebloom keeps this part to herself, keeping in mind that if she herself goes over to the house, Applejack’s moral standing isn’t affected.
>And Granny Smith is still asleep by the time the discussion concludes with a firm “no” from Applejack.
>Several minutes later, Applejack realizes something Big Mac forgot to do this morning.
>”Aw shoot, Big Mac forgot to check the sprinklers for freezing ice inside ovem’.” She stands up, remembering that the hoses and all connecting to the actual house’s plumbing were still detached from the faucets for the season at least.
>But she still feels like it’s been a little long since Big Mac last checked on them and he’s the one driving around regarding the bags of grain, so it’s more efficient so she does this while he’s occupied before he comes back to take his turn tending to the livestock anyway.
>Applebloom bundles up in a coat she never wears to avoid being easily recognized and sneaks out of the house by the time Applejack is far enough away to not notice.
>Riding on her bike down the road, she tries to remember where Meryl’s house is.
>…
>She has to do this swiftly and discreetly.
>Applebloom always knew the man as “Mr. Meryl living alone in the old house nearby”.
>It takes her almost three minutes to reach the nearest intersection and then take a left turn; she’s still going mostly based off of her memory.
>And also backtracking where she sees Big Mac usually drive from, and it was clear he passed the house on his way back to the Apple Farm.
>Two more minutes later, Applebloom passes a cluster of trees surrounding a smaller house that’s closer to the road.
>Nope, that’s definitely not it.
>She can only ride down this road for so long before she’s too far away from the Apple Farm to know where Big Mac had driven in from.
>She’s lucky her bedroom window even faced in this direction, but she can only visually make things out for so far.
>It’s only a matter of time before she could potentially get lost, but she does sort of know this town relatively well.
>Just not as well as her siblings or grandmother do.
>She soon turns back around to go down the same road but in the opposite direction from a second intersection she had reached, being sure to keep retracing her steps while riding her bike down these hypnotically long and narrow roads of scarce trees and buildings.
>These intersections around here are almost always a whole mile apart until one gets closer to town.
>She already knows from Applejack that most of these properties are 160 to 320 acres of land, primarily because this is all farm land.
>From what she knows of Meryl, he’s more of a 160 acres kind of guy.
>A couple more minutes later, a creepy looking house really stands out to Applebloom, and she can momentarily tell that it’s most likely the house.
>It didn’t take /that/ much time searching, did it?
>Applebloom pulls into the long driveway remembering that this is precisely the direction Big Mac drives back from, keeping her bike inside the line where the snow was displaced by car tires.
>And she knows that Meryl didn’t live too too far away, so this must be it.
>No other house really looks the same as this one.
>The front of the place towers over Applebloom as she gazes up at it with the overcast sky behind it as a backdrop.
>Leaving her propped-up bike behind her, Applebloom listens to the snow covered gravel crunch underneath her sneakers with each step she takes as she stares up at the windows.
>This place certainly looks really poorly maintained; that really dark brown siding looks almost like tree bark.
>And the shingles are rather disheveled and uneven in many places, the dirty windows murky with smears and smudges that further obscure the darkness behind them.
>Applebloom takes a minute or two deciding whether or not she wants to ring the doorbell to see who’s home.
>It’d look too suspicious if she walked around to the back of the house, so she walks up to the front door and looks for the doorbell.
>There is no doorbell.
>She knocks.
>No one answers, not even after the second time she knocks about half a minute later.
>With no one else around, Applebloom feels that it’s safe to go around to the back and look into the windows out of curiosity.
>But those plans are interrupted when she looks up the the second floor windows on her way around to find an extremely weirdly shaped head looking back down at her from up there.
>The obvious hair sticks out to both sides from an unnaturally wide, flat, dark face that may or may not have eyes at all.
>Applebloom’s heart jumps, not knowing what on earth this thing is but knowing for a fact she didn’t see it in the window the first time she looked up.
>She left the property at the drop of a hat, speeding away back home.
~
>”Just talk to someone, dude.” Nolan nudges Norman on.
>”If you’re so confident then why don’t you do it?”
>”I gotta go take a piss, and I can’t look relaxed until that’s squared away.”
>Norman groans at him and looks around the store for an employee.
>”Just say some shit like ‘yo we’re just getting started with this farming stuff, any idea how we find enough seeds for our property?’ in a casual voice. It’ll work.”
>Nolan starts to head off in a hurry.
>”Dude!” Protests Norman.
>”It’ll work, it’ll work.”
>After a minute or two of looking around, Norman spots a guy in a plaid shirt and suspenders whom he’s sure must work here. “H-howdy.” He blurts.
>The middle-aged man turns around to find a really thin young man dressed in weird clothes with a beanie atop his head.
>Out-of-towner spotted.
>”Uhm, howdy.” Norman repeats. “My friend and I just moved in and we’ve been learning how to farm and stuff.” He explains. “And uh we’ve been looking for advice how to get started.”
>The man glares back at Norman, still seeming halted at the part where Norman said “howdy” or “just moved in”.
>But he processed the whole thing. “You want to…get advice on how to farm?” His voice already sounds annoyed.
>”Yeah, well, you see. We’ve been learning about it in college already, but then we dropped out of college, though I’m sure that’s not much of a big deal around here, right?”
>The man glares at Norman, making it clear with his eyes that Norman’s trying too hard to look like he fits in.
>”We’d like to know how to get started, if you have any tips and pointers for us.”
>”Well, what are ya growin’ on your property?” The man starts to quiz Norman.
>”Food.” Norman vaguely answers.
>The man glares harder at Norman like he’s an absolute joke. “…Food?!”
>”Yeah… yeah, dude. Food.” Norman forgets to try to talk like the people who actually live here for real.
>The man briefly looks around in disbelief, gives sort of a ‘can you believe this guy’ look to the rest of the empty aisle before turning back to Norman. “Are you lost?”
>”Oh good, you got someone.” Nolan struts on over. “Hey! I’m Norman’s roommate. Name’s Nolan.”
>The man looks like he’s stuck between almost laughing and almost vomiting.
>”Just where are you two from?” He sounds really annoyed now.
>”Pretty far, we-” Norman starts before Nolan interrupts him with the worst possible answer.
>”Canterlot City.” Nolan gives his completely honest answer.
>Now the man’s eyes have fire in them. “Canterlot… City?!”
>”Yes sir!” Nolan confidently nods before it slowly dawns on him what he just said. “…oh…”
>”You boys don’t know what yer doin’, dont’cha? Ain’t got the slightest clue.”
>”We legitimately live here though!” Defends Norman. “Official address of someone who moved out.”
>”That don’t mean dogshit, now lemme tell ya somethin’.” He angrily points his finger. “Ah don’t know how you two scrawny little fruitbowls found this place or lord forbid…”
>”Dude, let’s just go, let’s just go.” Norman pulls Nolan by his arm as the perturbed man continues. “Sorry for bothering you, partner.”
>”Ya best move own back to h’were ya came.” He replies in a slightly louder tone. “Y’understand me?”
>Norman’s face is as red as the tomatoes he’ll never figure out how to plant properly at this rate.
>The only food the two guys get for the day is food from the grocery market, and no tips on how to plant seeds or whatever into the ground back “home”.
>The only thing Nolan and Norman have harvested from this territory so far is humiliation they mask and try to play off as a stroke of bad luck or unfair bias, well that’s at least what Nolan’s using as a coping mechanism.
>…
>”Dude, towns like this are nothing but one big groupthink circlejerk. It’s such bullshit.” Complains Nolan as Norman drives. “They just automatically know who’s not already from here like it’s a secret club we’re not allowed to visit if we’re not part of the groupthink.”
>”I told you so.”
>”Hey, shut up, man!”
>”Just saying.”
>”That doesn’t count. That guy’s a goon who doesn’t want anyone unlike him living in his precious little safespace town. He’s old and deranged!”
>”He’s just doing what everyone around here does. He’s gatekeeping.” Explains Norman.
>”Well it’s fucking retarded. We should be gatekeeping schizos like that guy if anything. I was a lot cooler than he was.”
>”You… don’t get to choose that kind of stuff, dude. That’s not how it works.”
>”Well why the hell not? Huh? What’s so wrong about the way we talk? The way we dress? Why does it trigger these people so much? They’re waaaaaay too uptight around here. We can belong here if we want to, these people are just no fun.”
>”Dude, that’s not how it works. It’s just not. These people already have a way of life in their small town. WE are the outsiders from the city.”
>”Well we’re not moving back.” Nolan crosses his arms and pouts. “I was still right, I know it. That guy’s just a bad apple.”
>”Oh my god, dude. Do you HEAR yourself?”
>”Yeah, and I’m making a lot of sense.”
>”No. No you’re not. Shut up already.”
>It takes another 15 minutes of this arguing before they make it back to the house, which they almost got lost trying to find.
>The event from the store is still fresh in their minds as they walk through the front door, thinking of things they could have said as a comeback to the man which they didn’t because they’re stupid.
>Norman sits down on the couch grumbling to himself and flips on the TV, not understanding that he still needs to go and check the barn out back, which neither guy has done yet.
>”Uh, Norman?” Nolan’s voice comes from the hallway.
>Norman grunts. “What is it now, dude?”
>”You better come take a look at this.”
>”What is this, a movie?” Norman mutters under his breath before standing up.
>In the hall closet is where Nolan is looking, and his eyes are wide with horror.
>”What’s the damn problem, dude?” Norman walks up to him before looking inside the tiny room at the loosened and pulled away tape on the box Nolan is too scared to even touch.
>Now they both stare at the disheveled box as it’s balanced on top of some books were they left it, having no idea what to do next.
>Nolan’s too scared to even check his email because he’s almost certain that Meryl replied saying he doesn’t own a doll, or maybe that doll was haunted and from hell or something and that’s why he moved out so hastily.
>”Is it even in there?” Asks Nolan.
>”Well I’m not touching that fuckin thing.” Responds Norman. “You do it.”
>”No way, man.”
>”Hey, moving here was your idea!” Norman asserts.
>”You’re the one who had the idea first!”
>The box suddenly leans forward, making both Nolan and Norman jump back yelping.
>Both of them scramble to their feet as the box lands on the floor with an audible chorus of squeaks coming from inside.
>Norman is already barging his way out the front door when Nolan notices a rat emerge from a hole it chewed into the back of the box that was facing away from him.
>”Oh.” Nolan gasps with his heart still in his throat.
>…
>About two and a half hours later, the box is tossed into a ditch on the side of the road, and the two guys could still feel the doll’s weight inside of it when they did this.
>Don’t even wanna look at it.
>Even with the somewhat logical explanation, these guys have still watched too many scary movies to refrain from this precaution.
>The drive back to the house from the ditch is almost 50 minutes; if that doll really is haunted, it’s still going to need to hitch a ride from someone if it wants to find its way back.
>When they get back in, all windows and doors are locked, and the fireplace leading the the chimney is barricaded.
>”What do you mean you still wanna move back out?” Norman groans as Nolan fixes to start packing his things up.
>”I just don’t trust this place.” Nolan responds in a shaky voice. “It’s too weird and creepy. It was funny at first but I don’t wanna spend another night in this place. Ever since I thought I saw you in the kitchen yesterday, I’ve had a horrible feeling in my gut about this house.”
>”Dude, come on, what are you even-”
>”And then the thumps upstairs followed by the doll thing, and then the box was opened, there’s no way it was only rats that did that. And if it was, then we have a pretty bad rat infestation here anyway.”
>”So you’re gonna knock me for wanting to leave because we don’t know how to farm for real, but then be all like ‘I don’t like it here, it’s creepy and there’s rats oh no’? You sound like my ex-girlfriend. Not to mention we didn’t even check out the barn yet and you suddenly want to leave now.”
>”Fine. Listen, man. I’ll give this place one more night, but all I’m saying is that we should find a smaller and newer place. We only got this one so cheap because Meryl wanted to get the hell out of here and I can see why now. I’m being straight up with you. I don’t like this house, man. I don’t like it at all.”
>In the back of Norman’s mind, the image of the doll floating across corn fields until it returns to the house infests his imagination.
>Something tells him that throwing into that ditch however many miles away that was will turn out to be a bad idea when whatever the hell that thing is follows them everywhere house or not.
>”We should go to the town that’s sort of close to this one I saw on the map and start over from there. We can get a room or something in someone else’s newer house or maybe an apartment or something, and no one over there will know us yet.”
>Norman considers this, but also doesn’t want to uproot and leave right away.
>The eventually agree to sleep on opposite sides of the couch with all of the lights on, Norman with his kitchen knife on him in case anything happens.
>It’s silly, but they’re just getting settled into this creepy-as-hell house for the time being.
>Everything’s locked and the two roommates are sleeping lightly in a lit room while armed with kitchenware.
>Surely nothing bad is going to happen tonight.
>…
>It’s in the mid afternoon of a winter day.
>The soft breeze still feels cold on the faces of people outside as they walk around at whichever building they’re nearby.
>No one is out in the fields to take in the full brunt of the gusts of January wind; they would rather not for the most part.
>The sun still bears down onto the open farmland, but does little to actually warm the place up.
>It’s not enough to melt the snow that covers the dirt, so much of the landscape is painted white for the time being.
>Staring out her window at this scenery is Applejack, at the side of her bed with the weight of her rifle on her lap.
>All done with her tasks for today, she wipes her handkerchief up and down the metal barrel of the firearm with her firm hand, very much familiar with the way it feels in her hands as she scans the countryside with her calm eyes.
>This place has always been her home, and hearing the things she has recently heard has cast doubt into her mind regarding where this town could be going if the inhabitants begin to change a little too much.
>She always considers what could be in the realm of possibility for this place’s future.
>Her home’s future.
>It’s a bit funny how she’s considering all of this while wiping down the barrel of her rifle all the while, as though there’s some sort of undertone of poetry going on here.
>Applejack stands up, her bedroom on the opposite side of where Applebloom’s room is, and she hears the front door open and close.
>Those footsteps are those of Applebloom, light yet quick.
>”Well you took a while to get back inside.” Applejack doesn’t remember exactly when Applebloom apparently went outside of the house.
>She’s already out of the room and standing at the top of the stairs, watching Applebloom appear into view and step towards the bottom of the stairs.
>”Ah wasn’t out long, was just checking the mailbox when Scootaloo was ridin’ by on her bike, so we said hi real quick but it’s too cold to stay out there right now.” Explains Applebloom, knowing she shouldn’t tell anyone where she really was just now.
>”Ah reckon we ain’t gonna get enough snow to be sleddin’ until next month.” Predicts Applejack. “Though we’d have to go far in order to actually find a decent slope. Ah regret not lookin’ hard enough last year, there’s got to be somewhere around here that’s got enough incline to sled down.”
>”True that!” Applebloom awkwardly steps into the kitchen, hoping Applejack doesn’t pick anything up in her voice this time.
>From the top of the stairs, Applejack squints her eyes a little bit as she hears Applebloom rummaging around down there, remembering all those other times her younger sister had lied to her about something.
>The dust inside the house is thick in the air after Applejack re-makes her bed before going downstairs.
>Granny Smith can be heard in the living room as Applebloom fixes herself something to eat in the kitchen.
>The younger of the sisters quiets down when she hears the older one’s footsteps make it to the ground floor.
>”Awful odd for Scootaloo to be riding around on a cold day like this’n.” Comments Applejack.
>”That’s what ah told her.” Responds Applebloom. “She was bundled up, though.”
>”Mhm.”
>That last quip from Applejack made it clear to Applebloom that she didn’t cover her tracks well enough.
>But Applejack doesn’t say anything further, knowing that Applebloom got the message that she’s still not as sneaky as she may think.
>Wherever she really just went off to, it’s implied that Applejack already knows everything about it no matter what lie Applebloom would think of, which is a useful thing to keep in her head to keep her thinking twice before doing it again.
>She won’t do it if she’s concerned about her sharp-minded sister finding out, or lord forbid is able to catch her in the act.
>Granny Smith is barely paying attention, knitting herself a brand new tapestry as her granddaughters begin to bicker in the kitchen once again.
>She’s too used to it to be very annoyed by it anymore; those two’ll get it out of their systems like they always do and get over their youngster problems eventually.
>While all of this goes on inside of the house, Big Mac is still out.
>…
>”Lemme know when yer done with that. Ah might need it myself.” Braeburn calls over to Big Mac, who’s grunting as he gets a tight bolt loose with a large red monkey wrench.
>The damn thing might as well be welded onto the busted piece of machinery, but Big Mac has his own strength on his side.
>It come off after a few seconds of brute force like they usually do, and Big Mac lets out a sigh of relief when he officially gets the two metal components separated and ready to possibly swap with other heavy duty farming equipment.
>”Well there ya have it.” Grunts Big Mac to himself before tossing the wrench over to Braeburn. “Let me know if you manage to beat my time.” He jokes.
>”Ah think I’d have to let ya know if I’ll need a paramedic if I try the stunts you do with this kinda work. Ah remember I’ve been tryin’ to get that damn thing loose for over two weeks but had to work around it.”
>”Well ya didn’t go and buy another wood chipper beforehand did ya?”
>”Absolutely not. Ah had a feelin’ you just had that extra bit of strength for that damn piece of metal that ah didn’t happen to be cut out for.” Grins Braeburn.
>”At least ya gave it yer best shot.”
>”It’d be a shame if I had to buy somethin’ new ‘fore I knew for sure whether or not it could be fixed.”
>”Eyup. That’s about the same way ah always go ‘bout it. So many people nowadays got all these fancy gadgets and nic-nacs and they jus’ throw ‘em away without even tryin’ to fix them. Ah swear them phone companies are makin’ serious money cause of this.”
>”Wouldn’t surprise me.” Braeburn works with the wrench on another easier-to-loosen piece of machinery under the hood of a tractor. “These things we’re workin’ on now are… how old? Twenty years? Thirty? Some folks don’t even got phones that last more than five.”
>”Ah know. It’s some real dogshit how they can’t even fix their own damn things anymore. Ah can’t imagine how some of them maintain their own tractors.”
>The two men continue on about the reliability of different types of people and technology as they finish fixing up some more busted farm equipment on a cold Saturday afternoon.
>It’s mostly maintenance and repair related things, as well as something to do to pass the time on the day of the weekend when they don’t go to church first.
>By the time it starts getting dark, worn out Big Mac and Braeburn decide to relax while cracking open a couple of beers with Mr. Greenhooves joining them behind a somewhat nearby warehouse.
>Mr Greenhooves, who’s a lot older than the two, is already there after having spent the whole day there.
>”So how’s yer week been treaten’ ya?” Mr. Greenhooves leans against the wall on the outside in his usual raggedy winter coat.
>”Been gearin’ up for blizzards.” Answers Braeburn. “Ah just know it’s gonna happen like 2004 again sooner or later.”
>”Ah hear ya. Stockin’ up on some food myself every year cause of that.”
>They’re momentarily standing together lines against the wall watching the sky turn colors before getting darker.
>They sip from the beer cans and continue to converse as the quiet Saturday comes to a close.
>”So we’ve been workin’ on some repairs. And Gerald’s old tractor might wind up being operational again after all.” Braeburn proudly announces. “Courtesy of myself and Big Mac over here.”
>”Eyup.” Big Mac chimes in with a nod. “We ain’t gonna replace anythin’ that easily.”
>”Well I’ll be damned. That’s some fine work you two gentlemen did there. Gerald’s gonna flip when he hears the news.” Replies Mr. Greenhooves.
>”It’s the least we can do with so many people throwing their old things away nowadays. All cause they broke once, some new folks who don’t know what the hell they’re doin’ decide to sink money into replacin’ them instead of findin’ a way to fix it themselves.” Begins Braeburn.
>”Oh I hear ya on that one. Lots of stories I’ve heard ‘bout them mobile telephone companies makin’ a new device every year now because all their customers are so used to replacing things, that they think it’s normal. I ain’t see no sense in it I tell ya h’what.”
>”That’s what we were jus talkin ‘bout.” Braeburn continues after another sip of beer. “We’re gettin’ so many younger folks who can’t even drive stick nowadays. It’s almost funny. They can’t even drive stick! Can ya believe it?”
>”It’s a damn shame people don’t do what you men do as much anymore.” Says Mr. Greenhooves. “Back in my day, when something was broken, people jus’ went on and fixed it. No bones about it. No one screamed and cried for some newfangled gadget no one needs.”
>”Eyup. A damn shame it is.” Big Mac remembers the two young guys he saw in front of Meryl’s now former house, but keeps it to himself at least for the moment.
>He’s not going to say too much to his friends until he gets to know what these new mystery guys are like, so it’s at least a fair benefit of the doubt for them.
>”The last thing ah want is our town turnin’ out to be more like the city.” Big Mac still comments just in general since that’s also now in his head.
>”Here here.” Mr. Greenhooves sips to that.
>”It’s the gosh darn city slickers pushin’ this baloney. Ah swear, it has to be them doin’ it on purpose.” Braeburn spits onto the ground. “Ah can’t believe things have started to take a turn where they want every community out there to be like their own. Like our own history don’t mean a damn thing to them.
>Mr. Greenhooves nods. “They’ll even pretend our history ain’t even true after a while. It’s happened before. That’s how colonization and civil war starts. It ain’t a pretty sight to see start happenin’.” He sips his beer again.
>A couple of six packs had been brought to the side of the warehouse.
>But the men know not to allow themselves to get drunk on account that they still have to all drive back home several minutes from now.
>By the time the sky gets to the point where silhouettes are the only thing that can be seen of people, it’s time to pack things up and get back home for supper with family.
>As he drives back in his truck, Big Mac keeps thinking about those two young fellows he saw at that house, knowing that he’s driving back home from a different direction than last time, so Meryl’s old house isn’t on the way back this time.
>He has some odd compulsion to go over there and see if they’re home really quick.
>There’s no way Granny Smith would find out about him talking to them unless she talks to them herself, which she definitely won’t.
>Something’s telling Big Mac that the two guys could be in some sort of danger and they wouldn’t know how to defend themselves unless someone more used to hardship comes along.
>With this, Big Mac takes a detour to the road that leads to the road the house is on.
>Less than 10 minutes later, he finds himself driving closer to the faint silhouette of the house and barn behind it that can be barely made out against the weakly still-lit sky.
>There don’t appear to be any lights on except one upstairs bedroom window, but that’s enough to indicate that someone’s home.
>And none of the downstairs lights are on, so it’s not like anyone’s dinner time is going to be interrupted by Big Mac visiting.
>He pulls into the driveway and drives up to the house, getting a sickening feeling when the dim light in the upstairs bedroom looks more like it’s from a candle than an actual lamp.
>And it’s not even 6 pm yet, so it’s not like a couple of guys this age are asleep.
>Even without this factoring in, something feels horribly off.
>Big Mac assumes that whoever’s in the house already heard his truck by now, and start calling out the very moment he knocks on the door. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
>No answer, and the entire first floor of the house is pitch black.
>That sickening feeling that Big Mac is getting is doing anything but going away. It’s getting worse.
>”It’s all right, ah don’t mean no trouble. Just one of the neighbors, here.” Big Mac steps away from the front door, not liking the way his shadow appears against it from his truck’s headlights. “Aw shoot, I shouldn’t risk blinden’ them.” He says to himself.
>Big Mac turns back to go turn his pickup truck to the side a little so the lights still make it easier to see without shining right into the new residents’ faces as they answer the door.
>He looks at the only lit up bedroom window and notices the sudden outline of a head with really messy hair.
>It gives him the creeps until he recognizes it.
>”Didn’t he throw that thing out a couple years back?” Big Mac comments on the familiar outline in the window of that old doll from the 1930’s that Meryl’s wife used to have. “Ah thought Meryl hated that thing.”
>He’s simply wondering why it’s still here, and also why these two guys suddenly perched it in the window like that since it clearly wasn’t there before. That’s pretty disrespectful.
>”Hello?” Big Mac knocks louder this time. “Anyone home?”
>Still no answer. Not even after another few minutes of Big Mac moving his truck.
>As he’s moving the vehicle, he says under his breath that he’ll probably just come back tomorrow during the daytime if nothing comes of this.
>Either way, he’s going to confront these guys as soon as possible to get to know what they’re like, and nothing, not even Granny Smith, will stop him.
>Big Mac look up to the window again; the light is off this time, and nothing can be seen in the blackness behind the glass.
>”Alright, fine. Ah ain’t got time for this shit right now.” Big Mac curses to himself, mildly annoyed.
>He drives off into the darkness after making it back down the driveway.
>That horrible feeling about the house is even stronger now, and Big Mac can’t ignore it this time.
>He shuffles around in the driver’s seat as he gets a bit closer to his own house, and can’t help but feel like that bad feeling from the house is now coming with him back home.
>Big Mac could have sworn he heard something in the back bed of his pickup truck, something sliding around back there that wasn’t there before.
>As he approaches his house, he swears he heard it again.
>”Hey!” He notices something move around on the back bed.
>With a slam on the breaks, Big Mac reaches around in the front of his truck until he pulls out his shotgun.
>Now the pitter patter of light feet on the back bed are unmistakeable.
>The door swings open, and Big Mac steps out to find a tiny human-like figure leap out into the blackness.
>It’s too dark to see the details, but it looks like it’s wearing a dress or a nightgown as it darts off into the night.
>Instinctively, Big Mac points his shotgun at the darting figure and pulls the trigger.
>The shotgun blast hits the figure right in the back and sends it tumbling into the dirt.
>The echo of that deafening *blam* of Big Mac’s shotgun is joined by his heavy footfalls and the click clacking of him cocking the firearm once again.
>He sees it right there in the dark, rolling around a bit.
>Big Mac steps closer to it, having no qualms about following this thing into the darkness of the night.
>The figure can barely be seen standing back up, and it suddenly lets out an ear-piercing screech that sounds anything but human.
>In a haste limp, the figure charges straight at Big Mac, who in turn fires again and blasts the figure back another five to ten feet.
>It vanishes into the blackness after flying back that length.
>The click clacking is heard again as Big Mac prepares to fire an unapologetic third shot.
> But it is not needed.
>Even after taking out his flashlight and shining it in every direction, Big Mac discovers that he’s going to have to tell his family whatever they just heard him shoot at got away.
>Nothing is to be seen out in the night, and the sickening feeling that Big Mac had been feeling is completely gone.
>”Welp… it sounded like a wild boar. So I’ll tell ‘em it was a wild boar.” Big Mac says to himself as he gets back into his truck and continues back to his house.
~
>”How the fuck did the lights turn off, then?” Nolan frantically flips the light switch.
>The lamp on the coffee table on the other side of the room turns off and back on as normally as ever.
>Nolan continues to stare at it, eyes filled with worry.
>”I know neither of us turned any of the lights out and they’d still be on if the power dipped overnight.”
>Norman scratches his chin, trying to think up a logical explanation. “Was the thingy facing up or down when we went to sleep?”
>”I don’t remember.” Answers Nolan, having fallen asleep quicker than expected. “Man, I don’t like this place.”
>”Maybe the wiring’s just a little buggy. One of my old houses had this same problem.”
>”Okay, so what about the doll? And the weird noises?”
>”What ABOUT those things? Just because some creepy shit happened doesn’t mean every single thing that weirds us out doesn’t have a normal explanation.” Norman lectures his housemate. “You gotta give this place a better chance than that, man.”
>He looks out the window, remembering that they still need to check out the barn to see what’s in there.
>If there’s a tractor or something that needs maintenance, then they should probably get to it soon since it’s so cold out there at this time of year.
>It might be a good idea to go out there in the middle of the day right now, but there’s still little enthusiasm for doing that at the moment.
>”I guess I’m paranoid.” Nolan sighs. “Fuck, dude. I just… I didn’t expect it to go this roughly at first. At least not like this.”
>”What, you mean the shit about this place being haunted?” Norman raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you quit weed?”
>”Oh come on, you know that has nothing to do with it.”
>”Dude, I’m just as creeped out as you are but this is getting stupid. Also, this whole thing was mostly your idea, remember? Moving out here.”
>”Are we seriously going to argue over this again?”
>”I dunno, ARE we?”
>…
>Norman and Nolan eventually settle down and decide to try out a different grocery store to try to talking to people in, this time not talking as stupidly to the locals as last time.
>They’ll have to try really hard not to sound like city folk, but it’s hard when you’re kind of dressed like city folk in a town full of people who can sniff an outsider from a mile away like a shark would with blood in the ocean.
>Norman and Nolan both reminisce about a dream each of them had last night, not feeling like it’s necessary to tell the other about it.
>There was some truck or something outside the house in the darkness, the headlights shining right into the windows, but the two new residents are independently convinced that they just dreamt the whole thing because they had each passed out once more before waking up again with more of their brains functioning after it was over.
>And they figured it was just a dream because it seemed like less than a second later even though it was at least 20 minutes.
>Funny how they care more about the less realistic things and brush over the more realistic things that they should know for a fact actually happened had they not been less than one-fourth awake when it happened.
>Though, the house’s lights were left on the entire night, well they were at least supposed to have been left on.
>These two might have a mystery to solve if there really was a truck outside the house last night.
>But there’s no way they were robbed by someone who turned the lights off after leaving; nothing is gone or even moved since yesterday.
>All of this stays in Norman and Nolan’s minds throughout the day after they eventually leave the house around 1 on a Sunday afternoon to go to a new store to ask someone how to farm correctly so they can learn how to grow their own food in a ridiculously short amount of time.
>It goes about how you’d expect: pretty much just like last time when they got told off.
~
>Back at the Apple Family residence, the pickup truck pulls up the driveway yet again.
>The family members step out in their church clothes, ready to go back into their house.
>”So you’re positive none of the guys there were the ones you saw at Meryl’s place?” Applejack asks her brother.
>”Eyup. Unless they went to the other church across town.”
>”If they really did go to sleep early like you said, what would it be for if it weren’t for church? Ah don’t think they’d go to the further away church if they live right there near us.”
>”Dunno. It’s really too soon to know for sure. Ah say it’s now best to wait a couple of days till we maybe run into them in town for somethin’.”
>The two siblings quiet down as Granny Smith steps out of the truck and walks up to them.
>They silently stare at eachother before Applebloom innocently walks past them as well and enters the house.
~
>It’s now the end of the day on Sunday.
>Norman and Nolan are just exhausted now.
>They got several groceries to put into the fridge, adding it to the stored canned goods they have now started sorting out in the basement.
>All the while trying to figure out how they can learn how to farm better since neither of them have a job in this town that’s gradually starting to have more people hate them.
>Nolan goes on another rant about how no one wants to accept him here, and how he likes how the city is more lively and aligned with his tastes.
>”Man, everything moves so slow around here too. Like, nothing ever fuckin’ happens. Where’s the mall? Where’s the Starbucks? Where’s the dance clubs? These people are no fun!” Nolan endlessly complains.
>”These small towns are almost always like this. You’ll probably find a strip club or something but there’s not much to do.” Answers Norman. “This place is dead, I know.”
>He remembers hearing the next couple of guys they talked to at the market talking to eachother after thinking he and Nolan were out of earshot.
>He remembers their conversation going something like this.
>…
>”God damn city slickers comin’ over here like those two. Who in the hell do they think they are?” One said. “Some ovem’ walkin’ around with green hair and bones in their noses, actin’ like they deserve all kinds of special treatment. Why isn’t stayin’ in the city enough for them? Why do they gotta come here with their culture feelings and their social justice bullshit?”
>”They think everything less than their city setting ain’t good enough, so ah don’t know why they’d even want to come here. I mean, why even bother?” The other stranger said. “Sure there’s less people here and we don’t go through our days as fast paced as they do, but that’s a damn good thing. They way they do everythin’ is so annoying, it’s like they’re tryin’ to fill their lives with as much activity as they possibly can even if it’s nonsensical dogshit. It makes them city folk look like a bunch of braindead apes but they still see it as a good thing anyway, and I’ll never understand it.”
>”Maybe they got sick of their city and wanna come here to get away, which makes sense.”
>”Well they ain’t stayin’ here. They can either go somewhere else that’s not here or go right back to where they came from.”
>…
>That’s something close to what they said to eachother.
>When the two roommates/housemates get back to their new place, they sluggishly exit the vehicle and head on inside, sick of the cold air already.
>Norman swears he heard some kind of pained moaning and howling from somewhere behind the house, almost like a dying wild animal, but he’s too tired to not ignore it.
>They get inside and watch TV for about 20 minutes or so, and they begin to converse once again.
>”Well look on the bright side.” Nolan begins again. “We got enough food to last the rest of the winter, probably. And we still got some money left.”
>”I don’t think it’s enough, man. Maybe we should get other jobs here first for the rest oft he winter so we can use the store for food until we can learn to farm.” Suggests Norman.
>”That’s probably the better idea, yeah, but just imagine being able to grow your own food! And not having to pay for it.”
>”Yeah but we still gotta pay for the equipment and stuff, and gas money.”
>”But not pay for food as much. It’s a plus, trust me.”
>”Speaking of equipment, we gotta have like, tools and sprinklers and shit, right? You can’t grow crops without that. And we gotta buy the soil and seeds and stuff.”
>”We still need to check the barn out back for a tractor we can probably use. That’d help a lot.”
>”Oh yeah, we’d need gas money for the tractor too.” Norman smirks.
>Nolan lightly punches him in the side of the arm.
>”You know what? Screw it, I’m just gonna go look for myself if there’s a tractor in there.” Norman stands up with a couple of light pops in his knees. “I’ll be right back, dude.” He goes for his winter coat.
>”Y’all want yer shotgun an yer truck, partner?” Nolan jokes in a fake gruff cowboy voice.
>”Shut up, dude.”
>…
>The thought of maybe buying a gun too crosses Norman’s mind as he treads across the currently barren field of dirt, snow and dead grass towards the barn.
>Gusts of wind slams into his side, prompting him to keep his hands in his pockets as he tries to figure out how he’s going to learn how to shoot a gun for the first time if he even goes through with it.
>As Norman approaches the barn, he gets a grim feeling about it as its outline gets bigger against the darkening sky as he walks up to it.
>The structure looks decrepit, the paint peeling off in a few places and overall being just like the house in the distance behind him.
>He shivers while looking for the door handles on the entrance.
>There no chains or locks or anything from what Norman can tell, and he gets the heavy barn door to loudly creak open.
>From inside, a gentle blast of warm air carrying what /almost/ seems like the scent of blood blows against Norman’s face.
>He hacks a little in reaction to this but then steps inside in search of a tractor.
>”Gah, it’s cold out there.” He mutters to himself, noticing that the slight scent of blood hasn’t gone away.
>He peers around in the darkness, not really feeling creeped out by any of this until his eyes start adjusting.
>Norman didn’t expect anything to be in here, but one by one, the large lumps of something in the darkness start becoming apparent.
>At first, he thinks they’re bags of dirt or whatever, but it soon becomes clear that some of them have what looks like short fur on them.
>Then Norman notices the smaller heads and legs attached to them.
>The realization slowly but surely creeps up on Norman as he notices more and more of the dead animals inside of the barn.
>Probably cows, horses, pigs, or sheep and goats, even some feathery chickens.
>All silent and motionless on the ground.
>Norman hurls, throwing up a little inside of his mouth as he staggers out of the barn.
>He’d have slammed the door shut had it not been so heavy, but he’s lucky he wasn’t swinging it against the cold January wind.
>Before he knows it, he’s hurrying back across the field to the house, looking over his shoulder back at the barn as if he’s being followed by something he cannot see.
>Norman could not make it back to the house fast enough.
>…
>This went from 0 to 100 really quick.
>”Do you think we’re gonna get in trouble for it?” Asks Nolan as he paces back and forth with his fingers nervously running through his red hair. “You know… letting them starve or freeze to death? I mean, don’t we technically own them after signing the papers, so it’s not like we killed someone else’s livestock.”
>Both guys feel sick to their stomach, feeling the full weight of the guilt and disgust sinking in.
>Those things must have been starving out there for days after Meryl left.
>Meryl.
>”Meryl didn’t fucking tell us about them!” Norman tensely stands up. “If anything, it’s his fault. He even left them behind when he probably should have taken them. If anything, we can sue him.”
>Nolan pauses at the sudden possibility to make some more money, but the debate between him and Norman that follows proves to complicate things.
>Regarding how to go about it, how to contact the authorities, where the paperwork comes into play.
>They’ll have to look up how to deal with this tomorrow, but Norman’s definitely sure of the fact that it was somehow warm inside of the barn, so it’d have been hard for the livestock to freeze to death before starving to death.
>In any case, there’s a mess on their hands now, and a mess they can’t just ignore or toss into a ditch without having to worry about confronting anyone about it.
>No longer caring about the haunted house stuff as much for the moment, Norman and Nolan decide it’s okay to sleep in the bedrooms now as the sky grows completely black outside.
>The wind is now howling outside as Norman and Nolan move a couple of small beds into the same side bedroom, still not planning on touching the master bedroom until another day or two from now despite being cool with the other bedrooms.
>It’s not long before Nolan drifts off to sleep with his kitchen knife on the nightstand.
>…
>Norman is still awake and staring at the ceiling of the bedroom, thinking it over again and again in his head regarding what happened in that barn.
>It’s polluting his thoughts now, and he’s trying to mentally deal with the fact that he’s going to have to handle this like a man now.
>It was already too late in the day to do anything about it right right now, so both Norman and Nolan figured they’d sleep off the stress until tomorrow when they’ll tackle this unforeseen obstacle in their journey of settling into this new place.
>Hours keep going by, but Norman’s concern keeps living on in his head, proving to him that he worries too much.
>Then again, that’s a lot of dead livestock on his hands. Dead livestock that he surely signed the paperwork for and now has to take responsibility of cleaning them out of the barn before the stench of decay of multiple cows and other animals gets too bad.
>This is gonna be a hell of a chore; anything but enjoyable.
>As he continues to ponder about all of this, Norman suddenly hears a thump come from downstairs.
>Damn it, again?
>At least the floors are switched this time, but Norman is convinced that this doesn’t mean anything bad and is just old house noises.
>Another louder thump.
>Okay, that one sounded in a way that concerns Norman.
>But he’s too tired to be that freaked out right now, and half figures that it’ll turn out to be nothing if he investigates.
>And it’s definitely nothing to wake Nolan up over.
>Norman continues to think to himself about those animals he’s not sure if he was the one who let die; was it his fault?
>He keeps going over the possible timelines of their final moments alive, and realizes that the animal like noise he heard earlier today was one of the animals.
>Again, it was warm inside of the barn, and one of them might have still been alive, probably one of the cows.
>Such a sickening thought to think about, but what almost gets Norman out of bed is the thought of one of them maybe still being alive and was just lying on the ground appearing dead.
>He almost gets out of bed for that thing he only just now thought of.
>But then again, he was inside of that barn for at least a full minute before realizing it was full of dead animals.
>If anything was alive, it would have somehow reacted to him entering the place eventually, especially with all the noise he made.
>Norman figures if anything was even slightly alive when he walked in but too close to death to react to his noise, then it’s definitely as good as dead by now.
>This just makes him feel wors-
>Norman just realized something.
>He didn’t smell any kind of decay when he walked into the barn full of dead livestock, which means they all must have died within the prior hour or two before he went there if they were all dead when he walked in.
>There were at least a dozen different animals in there, and they all had to have died at the same time.
>Otherwise, Norman would have smelled at least a little bit of decay instead of… blood?
>Norman’s brain starts imagining the worst scenarios as he hears a third more deliberate sounding thump downstairs.
>Everything should be well past this point of scary things, but this feeling persists anyway for some reason.
>In a slow dragging fashion, Norman gets himself out of bed quietly enough not to wake Nolan, though he feels like it’s necessary to wake him up at this point.
>He feels stupid for letting him stay asleep as he leaves to go check downstairs, feeling in his gut that this is going to turn out to be a really bad move.
>But down the creaky stairs he goes.
>Step by step, Norman hates the low croaking noises the old wood makes.
>”Norman?”
>Norman’s heart skips a beat and he jumps, somehow too startled to yelp or scream.
>”Oh fuck, dude. It’s just you.” Nolan seems to be catching his own breath. “I thought someone broke in. The stairs woke me up.”
>The two of them laugh quietly but nervously.
>”Damn, these things are loud.” Norman looks down at the rest of the stairs, now casually walking down without worry of making too much noise as Nolan goes back to bed.
>Norman needs a minute or two to regain his composure before walking into the dark kitchen.
>Why is it so cold in here?
>Like, it was already cold but it feels extra cold in-
>What this implies makes Norman suddenly hurry into the kitchen to see if it means what he thinks it means.
>To his horror, he’s right.
>The back door, having been closed AND locked before bed, is swung wide open with the wind blowing into the kitchen.
>Norman’s heart sinks and his stomach churns as he stares at it in shock, unable to move, too terrified to make a sound.
>Whoever’s in here unmistakeably heard him talk to Nolan and loudly come down the stairs.
>This is bad. This is really bad.
>Norman tries to let out a cry for Nolan, but nothing comes out.
>The fear has him in an extreme state of shock, he’s frozen in place as the source of the thuds proves to come from the back door hitting the side of the kitchen counter in the low moaning wind.
>”N-nolan…” Norman croaks, not nearly loud enough to be heard by his housemate.
>The sudden and loud creaking of the floorboards behind him was louder than his terrified voice; Norman can’t find it within himself to turn around to face whatever is definitely standing right behind him.
>Instead, he gets ready to make a break for it out the back door.
>But his trembling legs don’t know when to start running in time, and it costs him his life.
>…
>Nolan was just about to drift off to sleep when he hears a poignant sound come from the kitchen.
>Almost like a squeal of some sort, or a small zipper being pulled really fast… followed by a body loudly hitting the floor.
>He jumps into a sitting position in bed, staring through the crack of the door into the dimly lit hallway.
>”N-norman?” Nolan’s voice trails off, not finding the strength to call out loud enough. “Norman!” He gets a bit louder.
>Almost as thought in response, a set of heavy footsteps can be heard thumping up the stairs, with no voice calling back to respond to Nolan.
>”Oh fuck…” Nolan groggily pieces this together as the heavy footsteps against the wooden floors quickly get closer.
>He doesn’t even have time to spring out of bed and shut the door that doesn’t have a lock on it anyway.
>Nolan can only watch in horror as the tall figure lumbers into view in the crack of the door.
>Only the darkened silhouette can be seen, but it’s definitely not Norman.
>This person is easily much taller than Norman.
>In a state of panic, Nolan reaches for the kitchen knife on the nightstand in hopes to arm himself before this towering intruder can get close to him.
>That same squealing-like sound somewhat quietly pierces from the doorway, and Nolan’s outstretched arm is butchered by what must be a shotgun blast.
>He cries out in agony as his bloody hand limply dangles before him, and a subsequent squealing blast hits him right in the chest, tearing through his ribcage and sending him flopping to the other side of the bed.
>It’s over in about one minute.
~
>…
>Monday morning.
>Big Mac and Applejack are sitting at the kitchen table together as the sun comes up, well before Granny Smith usually gets up.
>”So do you think we should go over there and at least say hello?” Asks Applejack. “It doesn’t feel fair that we ain’t givin’ them a chance, but we all know Granny Smith.”
>”Ah still think we should wait a week or two.” Big Mac quietly replies. “Maybe she’ll warm up to the idea by then.”
>”Still think it’d seem rather disingenuous to wait so long before welcoming new neighbors.”
>”Well that’s not what Granny Smith thinks. But she has a bit of a different view of the world. It’s hard tryin’ to compromise between what she wants and what makes more sense.”
>Applejack stares out the window for a little bit as the sky gets lighter and lighter.
>Big Mac sighs. “Welp.”
>”Ah think it’s best if we explain it to them that we just had to respect our elders. Just tell them point blank.” Recommends Applejack. “Surely a couple young men like them would appreciate straightforwardness.”
>”Eyup, you have a point there. But how long should we even wait, then? Granny Smith usually never budges on these thing for a long time.”
>”Well we’re not as busy during the winter, so we got more options at least.”
>They continue to talk about whether or not to greet the new neighbors they think are still alive.
>…
>The sun has risen over this blessed country once more.
>Flags are high in the sky, waving in the cold winter air as every responsible citizen goes about their day as if it’s still the 1950s.
>There’s bound to be a snowstorm soon at some point since there hasn’t been one in the past week or so; the previous amount of once-falling snow on the open fields is getting dirtier and depleting.
>In the middle of the afternoon, the person woking at the front desk of a motel wonders why one of the guests had to leave in the middle of the night.
>The guest was at least lucky there was no snowfall yet despite the weather forecast predicting some new snowfall on Wednesday, maybe even Tuesday night.
>Here’s to hoping that guest made it to a less rural area before then, since she allegedly claimed she was traveling across the country.
>No one expected her to go deeper into the town where the die-hard locals have claimed their territory.
>Though, this guest doesn’t intend on bothering anyone not involved.
>…
>While Applejack is out walking Winona, Big Mac and Granny Smith are now sitting in the living room where she sits in her rocking chair.
>”Ah already told Applejack the same thing.” Granny Smith begins. “If you see anyone in town who don’t look familiar, ya don’t talk to ‘em.”
>Big Mac scratches the back of his head. “I reckon that applies to all situations?”
>”Ayapsolutely!”
>Big Mac wants to at least try to reason with his grandmother and give the two newcomers in town a chance.
>Even though they have not proven themselves to be good yet, they haven’t proven themselves to be bad either.
>If they had proven themselves to be bad somehow, then Big Mac would have empathized with Granny Smith a lot more.
>But Granny Smith can see it in Big Mac’s eyes that he still has some inner contentions about this, she knows her grandson.
>”Let me tell ya about what happened here right before you were born.” She starts off.
>Applejack has already come back in with Winona and went off to do something else by the time Granny Smith begins her long and drawn out story about an incident that happened in the early 80’s.
>Apparently, a couple of those punk rocker types were vacationing here in this small town, when it was even smaller back in the day.
>Lots of new kinds of music and clothes were coming out, and these people wanted to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city and move to the countryside to live their lives.
>Clashing with the locals culturally, but influencing some of them in the wrong ways to rebel against this place’s traditions.
>The local police eventually caught someone dealing drugs for money behind an old windmill where almost no one ever hung out near, it was the perfect spot to remain in privacy and away from people.
>And the man dealing the drugs was from a family that had lived here for over 50 years, and it was found out he had an affair with a girl form this new wave of city people and she showed him some “new outlook in life”.
>The people he was selling to were from the city, and he had leverage over competition because he was less likely to get caught all the way out here… but then he did.
>Law enforcement were quick to act on it, and he was thrown in prison.
>His entire family was ashamed of him, and Granny Smith goes off on a tangent about how his mother raised him better than that and all those kinds of things.
>But the man’s arrest led to clues about other shady activity going on in the town, and how it connected to new trends that parents started seeing in the groups of kids at the local high school.
>Some of those kids wound up doing similar things and got subsequently arrested, the crime rate slightly increased, more people from cities started having connections and friendships with people in this town, as well as surrounding towns.
>All of this is the main gist of how her story goes, though it gets a little complicated in the details and things she doesn’t seem to cite other than with “I felt it in my heart” or something.
>No one listened to classic country artists anymore, it was all about synth music and metal bands with the kids.
>No one seemed to like movies from the 50’s anymore, and the ones they did like had too much nudity and other degeneracy in them.
>People wanted to build suburbs nearby, right near the highway that was a fast lane in the direction of the city.
>There were even people on welfare, and someone wanted to start a “movie festival” nearby.
>Lots of civil unrest started up, and things began to escalate before they luckily started dying down.
>The town went back to the way things “oughta be”, right around the time Big Mac was born.
>Only because the locals here really began cracking down on pressuring outsiders and those influenced by the outsiders.
>The crime rate went back down, but about two towns over, 30 miles away, a bowling alley and a casino were set up after the prior few years.
>This town had already been a larger town, and it already connected to two interstate highways, so it was easier to make it become “modernized”.
>”And boy ah swear the types of dishonest tomfoolery that replaced what it was like when I went to Barbara’s wedding there, it’s unspeakable. She lost her whooooole town!” Granny Smith concludes after over 20 minutes. “All because they let too many bad apples into the bunch. An’ that almost happened here too.”
>Big Mac remembers all of the times he encountered someone who doesn’t know how to drive on a manual setting.
>”Ah know I’ve been hard on ya sometimes but this is important.” Granny Smith continues.
>”Ah understand.” Nods Big Mac.
>”Ah wanna make sure you actually do. ‘Cause these people’ll take a mile if you give ‘em an inch. And you are NOT to go to that house. Ya understand?”
>”Ah understand.” Big Mac repeats.
>”Stayin’ out of trouble seems to get harder with the kids nowadays. Ah’m glad yer mom and dad and I raised ya better than certain broken families. You know what ya should feel grateful for being, Big Mac.”
>”Alive.” Big Mac lowers his head.
>”Well ah suppose that counts too. But just as important, you ain’t no degenerate with yer entire future ruined. We raised ya responsible, and ah ain’t losin’ you or Applejack or Applebloom to this bullshit, ya hear me?”
>”You know best, Granny Smith. Ah ain’t gonna have nothin’ to do with Meryl’s old house.” Big Mac tells her what she wants to hear.
>Can still just go to the house without her knowing and find out for himself.
>”Tell me more about these people later, ah gotta see if the truck needs any fixin’.” He continues.
>By the time Applejack is back in the room, Big Mac is standing up.
>”The lock on the back door’s actin’ up again.” Applejack announces. “Where’d ya say the nearest Home Depot is? Ah might get one from them this time.”
>”Way down the highway to the east.” Replies Big Mac.
>”I think you should try fixin’ it again.” Says Granny Smith. “Did you use them littler screws this time?”
>”Used them, didn’t work.”
>”Mah buddies down at the warehouse might be able to get you a replacement for free.” Big Mac brings up. “You done with Winona? We can take the lock down to them and they can have a look at it.”
>”Walked her like twenty minutes ago, Big Mac.” Applejack raises an eyebrow. “C’mon, let’s git this thing taken care of.”
>…
>”We’re not goin’ to Hope Depot, aren’t we?” Says Applejack as Big Mac makes a turn with his truck in the opposite direction.
>”Nope.” Responds Big Mac.
>”We’re on the same page, then.”
>”Eyup.”
>The two siblings begin to talk in privacy every several seconds as the older one drives his truck down the roads.
>”Can you believe Granny Smith? Ah think she’s startin’ to lose it.” Continues Applejack.
>”Well she certainly has her moments, but there is a lot of history to this town she knows about.”
>”And ah still haven’t heard the end of it from her to this day.” Gripes Applejack. “Ah know she’s our elder and all that, but this is startin’ to get outta hand.”
>”Granny Smith has always been this way about things and you and I both know it ain’t changin’ any time soon.”
>”Welp, ah was willing to stick by her principles all the way up until this point. She’s startin’ to sound like she’s losin’ it.”
>”Ah know it’s hard, but we just gotta wait this out all the way through. As long as she’s around, we’re just gonna have to respect her wishes.”
>”And how far does that apply? We’re adults, Big Mac, not children. She can’t tell us where to go or who to talk to.”
>”Well, believe me, she certainly can.” Bic Mac pauses. “Well… tell us at least. Don’t mean we gotta do it but we gotta make it look like we do it. But ah do that by just not doin’ it. Usually, at least.”
>”Ah suppose you’re right. It’d be hard as hell to lie to Granny Smith. She’d prolly be able to tell anyway.”
>They both take their family principles very seriously, but as the car ride continues, they let their common sense shine as well.
>”I reckon she’ll forget about it a week from now.” Applejack predicts.
>”A whole week?” Big Mac turns onto a familiar road. “Ah was just fixin’ to go up to the place real quick right now.”
>He had gone into a different direction then went around in a giant loop back to Meryl’s old house.
>”Big Mac, don’t. Not while it’s still fresh in Granny Smith’s mind.”
>”Well what do ya expect me to do? I’m tired of this.”
>”You were the one who said we should respect her wishes!”
>”It’s… easier to lie if I was playin’ it out the whole time even without her around.” Admits Big Mac.
>Applejack grins and scoffs at her brother, remembering all the times they messed with eachother in petty ways as kids and then he’d lie to mom and dad about it.
>Though, she’s not totally exempt from this either, but she’s been the type to adhere to the truth and let everything play out the way it should so she doesn’t have to live with a little white lie.
>Which is why she shoves her brother in the side of the arm, telling him to just casually drive past the house and not actually go up to it.
>”C’mon, not now. We should wait until the dust settles about the whole thing.”
>Big Mac considers the fact that Applejack is worse at lying than he is, and it probably doesn’t help that she’s in the car with him right now as he does this. “Alright, fine.”
>…
>Big Mac’s truck drives right past the old house.
>From behind an old abandoned silo, Scootaloo peers around the curved side of the structure.
>”You sure that’s your bother’s truck?” She asks.
>”Ah can recognize it from a mile away.” Reacts Applebloom. “Aw shoot, ah thought they weren’t goin’ anywhere today.”
>”You can just say we were riding bikes the whole time.”
>”Not if they saw us.”
>”Even if they did, which they probably didn’t, we can keep saying we were riding our bikes.”
>The two take their bikes and continue their plan to go check out the house anyway, not caring as much about family principles as Applejack and Big Mac do.
>Applebloom is the one in front as Scootaloo follows.
>The two approach from the side from their bikes, with the distant barn further away from them than the house is.
>They ride on their bikes while bundled up in their winter coats, almost like armored warriors riding up to a castle.
>Applebloom looks up into the windows of the house, expecting something like a ghost or something to appear.
>”This place is so creepy looking.” Comments Scootaloo. “This would make a great haunted house for a horror movie!”
>”The guy who lived here was totally creepy too.” Says Applebloom. “Old and scraggly, talked in a weird voice, said he still knew his dead wife lived in the house with him one time.”
>”Shit, really?”
>”He belonged here. It’s weird how he moved out and didn’t die in this house first.”
>Applebloom looks up at the dark brown wood as it sticks out slightly from the side of the building, in dire need of repair.
>”So what did you say you saw again?”
>”A doll.” Clarifies Applebloom. “It’s was weird n’ dark and didn’t have a face except for a nose, almost. It didn’t have any eyes.”
>”That’s like right out of a movie.”
>”Ah saw it! It was, uh, hang on, let me show you.”
>Applebloom leads Scootaloo around the house to the other side where she first stood under that window before.
>”That window?” Scootaloo points up to it.
>”Yeah, there was a doll in it and it was lookin’ right down at me.”
>”Sure it was. And I guess it’s not going to appear right now for some reason, right?”
>…
>Inside the house, the two voices outside have been heard.
>The voices of two girls, it sounds like, and they’re obviously right outside the house.
>These old floorboards creak and groan no matter how lightly stepped on.
>So much dust on everything, but other than things like house noises, not a sound is made from inside the house.
>From outside the house, the voices of Applebloom and Scootaloo continue to sound off, muffled slightly.
>”Do you think anyone’s in there?”
>”Well there’s a car right there, what do you think?”
>”Then why in the hell are you being so loud?! Shut up!”
>”If anyone’s there, they definitely already heard us. I say we just knock on the door and greet them so we don’t seem suspicious.”
>”That’s a pretty bad idea. We’ll get in trouble without a doubt then, because they’ll know who we are.”
>”Well I’m going to knock on the door.”
>”Scootaloo, don’t!”
>About 30 seconds later, the muffled voices are back at the front of the house, accompanied with annoying banging on the door.
>”Helloooooo?” Scootaloo’s voice pierces through between series of knocks. “Does anyone live here?”
>”What the hell are you doing? Let’s get out of here!” Applebloom’s voice sounds more frantic.
>”What’s wrong? Ya scared of the spooky dumb doll?”
>A short pause.
>”Aw c’mon! Don’t leave me here all by myself!”
>Everything these two girls are saying is being heard from the inside of the house.
>A couple more uneventful minutes happen, but the front door is finally cracked open.
>But by the time this has happened, the two girls have already gotten either bored or creeped out and left halfway down the road.
>They can be seen on their bikes, disappearing into the distance and from the view from the cracked open front door, which is promptly shut.
>…
~
>…
>The house has not been approached by any of the locals or neighbors for exactly one week now.
>It is now the next Monday after the previous week.
>A whole week has now gone by since those two rode their bikes up to the house, and nothing has happened.
>7 days, zero developments.
>But today is the day that is about to change.
>Up the driveway, Big Mac’s truck once again drives.
>It stops right behind the car that’s parked in front of the house.
>Over the past week, Big Mac has seen that car there sometimes, and other times, it was not there.
>So whoever’s here obviously isn’t staying home all the time.
>After stepping out of the vehicle, Big Mac feels extremely uneasy walking up to the house.
>Every time he gets close to this place, something feels wrong.
>The night when something climbed into the back of his truck still resurfaces into his memory every several hours, but it now seems to not matter.
>Big Mac has his shotgun right there in his truck, and it’s daytime this time anyway. Right around noon.
>Within the next minute, Big Mac is knocking on the door. “Hello? It’s just one of the neighbors.”
>This time, he patiently waits for a full minute and a half until obvious footsteps can be heard inside the house after it becomes apparent that Big Mac has not driven off yet.
>He clearly saw the car in the driveway, so it should be clear that he knows someone’s here.
>Big Mac knocks again anyway, this time a little louder. “I live just a lil bit down the road.
>The click of the lock gives Big Mac the cue to step back a bit, and the door gradually creaks open.
>”Howdy.” Big Mac begins. “Ah couldn’t help but notice you fellas just moved in. And ah wanted to welcome ya.” He explains.
>The door swings open, and there stands not one of the two guys, but a girl.
>She has this really light yellow skin, basically vanilla colored, and red hair with a couple of purple stripes on it.
>She has a pair of thick rimmed glasses on, and a dark blue turtleneck sweater.
>But the first thing Big Mac notices is that she’s just about as tall as he is, which isn’t common since he’s usually taller than practically everyone else around him.
>She stares at him with nearly emotionless eyes, but the eyes focus more when he speaks again.
>”Hello.” The girl finally answers.
>”Name’s Big Mac.” Big Mac points in the direction of his house. “Ah take it yer with the fellas moving stuff here the other day?”
>The girl shakes her head. “No, they don’t live here.” She says with a barely noticeable pause between “live” and “here”. She then adds: “They helped me move in then left.”
>Big Mac nods. “Ah.”
>”…Yeah…” The girl hesitantly answers.
>Her voice sounds stronger and more refined than Big Mac anticipated.
>”Well anyway, ah just wanted to welcome ya real quick.” Big Mac isn’t enthusiastic about small talk lasting this long with someone he doesn’t know that well.
>”Splendid.” She replies. “My name’s Gretchen.”
>”Nice meetin’ ya Gretchen.” Big Mac says. “Hope ya like it here.”
>That’s about all that happens in this conversation.
>Big Mac can instantly tell she’s not that big on talking much any more than he is.
>She’s definitely the quiet type, he’ll give her points for that.
>The truck pulls down the driveway and heads off, and the girl shuts the front door once again, making sure the truck drives all the way off before letting her guard back down.
>She lied about her name.
>It’s not Gretchen.
>It’s Moondancer.
~
>The town outside is now quiet, the air is cold, and the old house is suffering from lack of being taken care of.
>The story of this place has been interjected with someone else’s problems that occurred all the way back near a college campus near the city, which is something the locals here wouldn’t be too keen of if they were to find out about it.
>Silently, Moondancer sits alone in the living room chair, the only person in the house, wondering if there’s any bloodstains she needs to still go clean up.
>There’s an empty chair across from her, one that could have been filled had her former roommate been here with her.
>There’s no way this can be, Wallflower is sitting right there, Moondancer knows it.
>…
>Moondancer had escaped that trailer park next to the campus, backpack, shotgun and fire ax all with her.
>She was more than happy to take her college fund out of the bank she swore she couldn’t trust to begin with; that college dorm had become somewhere she could not return to, given what had just happened.
>A few hours in a nearby school computer lab resulted in Moondancer finding a nearby hotel to book for a couple of nights.
>There was a lot of racing around throughout the night and during the next day, and then the following night and day after that.
>Just going around making sure she has everything she needs to last in the room she just booked, at least for a week.
>The recent events with the mysterious activity in the trailer park resulted in the campus shutting down and law enforcement investigating all over the place.
>So many students were scattered about, many either being sent back to their home towns or driving back themselves, some of them were seen hitching rides.
>Moondancer knew she saw Wallflower is the clusters of students somewhere.
>She didn’t want to imagine the scene that would have happened if Chrysalis’s minions got to her.
>Wallflower HAD to have escaped, this is something Moondancer is sure of in her head. She erases any memory of the evidence otherwise; she’s not losing Wallflower from this world.
>Not her only true friend she can connect with.
>Moondancer remained in that hotel room near the campus, mentally dealing with what had happened that caused her to stay there.
>All of these other students are so annoying, especially the ones that already have arrangements to go live somewhere together because they all have their huge groups of friends that stick up for eachother because they all think the same and follow the same norms that Moondancer rejects.
>All Moondancer truly had was Wallflower.
>Treehugger and Mary were unbearable, and Trixie was nothing but one problem after another, with that Starlight enabling her too much.
>Moondancer noticed these people always came in twos, including herself and Wallflower.
>But she was only one at that point, and listening to a couple of students talking at the grocery store when she stocks up on another tiny amount of food she could fit in her room’s fridge at a time.
>”We don’t have to wait until graduation anymore, dude! The campus is closed!” Nolan had said to Norman. “We can finally do the thing.”
>He and his buddy were referring to moving out to the countryside, that’s what Moondancer imagined Wallflower saying to her as she sat there.
>Moondancer vaguely remembered these two as well; they were basically the same as Mary and Treehugger except they were guys who hung out with more rowdy people than the two girls had, Trixie notwithstanding.
>In the old house, Moondancer glares at the chair before her, trying to talk to Wallflower and remind her of how she got here.
>And that she’s not invisible to her, and doesn’t have to worry about standing out to the locals of this town.
>In Moondancer’s head, she goes over the same thing she reminds Wallflower of, recalling when Wallflower was there to help eavesdrop on Norman and Nolan, figuring out where they were planning on going.
>When they planned on leaving for the road, what this town was probably going to be like.
>She tells Wallflower about how the two hipster guys never saw her standing there.
>While she was listening in, leaning over their shoulders as they talked with the owner of this house through email.
>Wallflower told Moondancer everything about what they were saying, and Moondancer thanks her in the chair before her for this.
>The best thing Wallflower has is stealth.
>Ever since the two started rooming together, it’s like no one knew Wallflower existed except for Moondancer.
>Who is anyone to say that Wallflower is no longer there if they never really saw her?
>Wallflower is Moondancer’s friend, no one else’s.
>It had been a little over a week by the time Wallflower helped Moondancer figure out exactly when Norman and Nolan were heading away, after they went back where they used to stay to pack their things a little more each day because they’re lazy.
>Wallflower helping Moondancer is the only reason they got to the house, that’s why Wallflower MUST be sitting in that chair right over there.
>Moondancer continues to quietly stitch the story together to Wallflower as she goes on about how lazy she knew Norman and Nolan were.
>Moondancer took advantage of their laziness and used the time to rent a car of her own, as well as sift through places in the dark web she’s somewhat used to through experience as living the way she had been over the past couple of years, especially when she was in a dorm.
>That student discount for a laptop came in handy, saved more of the money Moondancer was gradually pulling out to be used towards food and such.
>Though, a good amount of the food could be from what Moondancer heard Norman and Nolan were going to save up.
>They wanted to try and be farmers out of nowhere with a partial, half-assed education of how to actually go and do it for a living.
>If anything, this was the perfect opportunity.
>They refused to go back to their families because they wanted to be independant, but they had absolutely no idea what they were doing and didn’t even give much information as to where they were haphazardly moving to.
>Moondancer was always annoyed by people like this regardless, and remembered the weapons she had and methods she heard about when it came to learning how to make someone disappear.
>It was a hell of stretch when she first through of it, but Wallflower right next to her had talked her into it.
>Moondancer eventually didn’t care anyway; these two guys weren’t going to be valuable members to society no matter what they did.
>She had recently been getting over that one guy from the alleyway she caused to die, combined that with how worthless so many people are, and came to terms with what she was planning to do regarding Norman and Nolan once they were isolated and in a situation outside of their own control.
>At a nearby bookstore, Moondancer bought herself a new notebook to write down her dreams into since she lost her original one in that dorm room she can’t dare to return to.
>Wallflower was still there with Moondancer, she remembers it.
>All of what Moondancer is saying out loud right now is her proof that Wallflower, her only friend, is in the chair in front of her.
>It’s all the evidence she needs; no one else would see Wallflower anyway. It doesn’t matter.
>Wallflower was 100% there when they got into the rental car together, and when they started following Nolan and Norman’s car all the way to the interstate highway.
>The more a change of scenery happened for Moondancer, the more the absence of her old book meant a new beginning for her with nothing to lose.
>Surely it couldn’t have been because Wallflower was also gone, because she was sitting right there in the passenger seat, riding shotgun.
>It took a lot of jumping through hoops and making deals from other states before Moondancer could get her hands on a shotgun suppressor, but she wasn’t too thrown off by having been so mobilized while simultaneously making ends meet on the internet getting what she needs.
>The address and town was in her head, and she knew where she had to go before needing to stop at a new hotel.
>One little bit of progress led to another, and Moondancer was lucky she was already strong enough to hold the shotgun steady enough to aim well.
>Moondancer soon found herself having no qualms regarding killing those two guys, as they proved to be nothing more than obstacles, not actual human beings that contribute to society.
>It took a little desensitizing killing all those animals in the barn with the newly loaded shotgun, which Norman somehow discovered without needing to hear any of the shots.
>Wallflower didn’t seem bothered by the animals dying, and the animals didn’t even acknowledge Wallflower’s presence despite having backed away from Moondancer.
>But that’s okay. Everything’s okay now.
>…
>Moondancer can lean back now, because she KNOWS that Wallflower is sitting there in the chair in front of her, alive and well.
>She did just go over all the details as to why there’s no way she isn’t there.
>And there she is.
>Wallflower sits in the chair, smiling back at Moondancer as she listens to her tell her more about how she wouldn’t have gotten here without her help.
>Moondancer is 100% convinced now.
>Any spirits in the house would now be hiding inside their dark corners.
>Moondancer lets out a half-spirited laugh as she talks to the empty chair in front of her.
~
>It’s the end of another long day that’s still short due to it being the dead of winter.
>Big Mac is back in his own home, telling Applejack with his eyes that he went on over to Meryl’s old house to see who was there.
>Upon finding enough distance from Granny Smith’s earshot, they quickly go over it.
>”So who’s there?” Asks Applejack.
>”Some tall gal named Gretchen.”  Explains Big Mac. “She lives there alone it seems, and them two young men were apparently jus’ helpin’ her move on in.”
>”Well I’ll be darned.”
>”Ah suppose we shouldn’t tell Granny Smith yet.”
>”Yeah, we’re still not supposed to know who’s there yet. Ah don’t know how she’d take it if someone spilled the beans.”
>They don’t have much time before Granny Smith returns to her rocking chair.
>”Oh there you two are. You talkin’ about somethin?”
>Applejack remains tight-lipped, unsure of what to say that’s connected enough to the truth for her to actually be able to get out of her voicebox.
>”More possible home repairs.” Big Mac responds as confident-sounding as he can.
>Granny Smith doesn’t seem like she’s going to buy into that so quickly.
>”Oh yeah? Which ones?”
>”Aw shuck well, ya know. Any of ‘em. Ah noticed lots of things were gettin’ broken lately so ah figure we’d do a sweep through the whole house and knock it all out in one go.”
>”Ah don’t remember there bein’ that many.”
>”Well ah just wanna make sure.”
>”Is this really ‘bout somethin’ else?”
>”Nope.”
>”Cuz if there’s somethin’ yer not tellin’ me, I’d like to know now.”
>”Nothin’ else.”
>”Well all right, then. Ah hope you find all ya need to take care of.” Granny Smith misses Applejack pretending to go upstairs to do something unrelated.
>”If there’s anythin’ else, I’ll tell ya bout it.” Says Big Mac.
>”Ah hope so. This family didn’t raise no liars.”
>”No, ma’am.” Agrees Big Mac.
>”Ah expect everythin’ to be done, includin’ the back door lock ah heard ya talk about before.”
>”Yes, ma’am.” He has to divert from his usual informal “eyup” with a nod.
>She eventually lets him go, not letting him know what it is she’s really concerned about, but it’s pretty clear to both of them what it was really about despite neither of them saying it out loud.
>It’s about Meryl’s house and Granny Smith not wanting anyone going near it yet.
>…
>Applejack’s excuse for going up to her room was to clean her rifle.
>She wipes the barrel down, staring out the window at the snow coated plains, sensing something is off about the changes that happened around here.
>She’ll need to join Big Mac in talking to Gretchen sometime.
~
>Now that another two weeks have passed without anything happening, Granny Smith seems to have mostly forgotten about the whole thing about Meryl’s old house.
>Big Mac initially thought those two young men he saw outside of there that one time were the official residents, but that turned out not to be the case.
>Whoever Gretchen is, she seems like an alright gal so far, though Big Mac only met her once, and Applejack has only heard about her.
>Applebloom is kept in the dark about who Gretchen is, though she does ask Big Mac about the house from time to time, to which he answers that he went over there a couple of times but can’t say much for the sake of Granny Smith.
>He promises Applebloom that this mystery will no longer need to be worried about pretty soon.
>In the meantime, the family has been going about their usual duties, with the situation about Meryl’s house being only in the backs of their minds now.
>…
>Come February.
>The period between snowfall in this region has ended, and minor blizzards are happening almost every week now, with light snowfall every couple of days.
>It’s now easier to make out the dark spot of Meryl’s old house in the far distance with so much white snow covering everything, at least when visibility is clear and there’s no current snowfall.
>The air gets so empty in the winter, it seems, and it hurts your face when you step outside around here.
>It’s almost like walking into a block of ice, one that quickly wraps around you when it’s windy.
>As she walks around an area somewhat near her home that has a quite a few unowned wooded areas, Applejack wonders about if there’s a higher power benevolently watching over the land, determining how everything plays out and that nothing is actually a coincidence.
>It’s quite common to not only think but actively talk about this around here. Especially on Sunday.
>Applejack is debating to herself whether or not she should go hunting like she did last year.
>Her rifle proved to be very effective last time, and God wouldn’t have given humans the ability to use weapons had he not wanted the animals of his earth to be hunted for food.
>It’s already right here on her back, the long barrel pointing up rising above Applejack’s head to the overcast sky, and this might be the last time before Spring she can hunt before the big blizzards cause the snow on the ground to rise past her hips, making foot travel extremely difficult.
>She figures that if she sees something, she sees something.
>The country girl continues through the wooded area, boots making crunching noises across the ground.
>The only other movement is from the breeze causing branches and twigs to sway back and forth.
>She hears a slight giggle from her right side.
>Applejack turns her head and catches a slight tinge of bright red behind one of the nearby dead bushes.
>But it seems to vanish before it can come into full view, which makes no sense since there’s nowhere for anything to go in order to hide from anyone’s view.
>However, the glance was just long enough for the familiarity of Applebloom’s hair to set in.
>”What the… Applebloom?” Applejack gasps then calls out.
>She immediately paces over to the spot where she knows she saw her sister.
>”What the hay are ya doin’ here?”
>Applejack keeps looking around, but her sister is still nowhere to be seen anymore.
>There is no way she could just disappear from Applejack’s sight like that; it’s not physically possible.
>Speaking of which, how did she possibly get here without a car?
>This neck of the “woods” is about 25 to 30 miles away from the Apple Family home, which is a distance Applebloom cannot simply ride her bike, and Applejack knows there was no one in the vehicle with her.
>The wind picks up a little from the gentle breeze that was there a minute ago until it stops completely.
>The air is entirely still, and Applejack can hear light footfalls in various areas of this patch of trees.
>Something feels terribly off; Applejack can feel a tingling in the back of her neck.
>A few more times, she spins around trying to trace the footsteps before Applebloom is standing right in front of her, with an unnatural looking smile on her face.
>Freezing in place, Applejack thinks of some scolding phrase to say to her sister, but her sister vanishes into thin air before her very eyes.
>”What the…”
>…
>The front door slams open, followed by the sound of Applejack’s harsh footsteps against the wooden floors and her voice calling out for Applebloom.
>Applebloom’s bedroom door opens, and the girl rushes out downstairs with the guilty memory of having gone to Meryl’s old house fresh in her mind as she hears how perturbed Applejack sounds.
>…
>”You mean to tell me you were here the whole time?” Applejack raises an eyebrow.
>”Ah swear!” Defends Applebloom.
>The whole interrogation doesn’t seem to really even have a point, since Applejack knew what she saw, and she knows that Applebloom doesn’t know witchcraft or what have you.
>In Applebloom’s mind, she keeps wondering when Applejack is going to ask about the house she wasn’t supposed to go to.
>Whatever happened out there in the wilderness where Applejack was hunting, it may have been some intentional event to get Applebloom to fess up about the house.
>She still hasn’t met whoever lives there now, but she probably should.
>Granny Smith scolds Applebloom about riding her bike too far, saying she knows better than that.
>Not much comes of this other than Applebloom feeling more nervous about when she went to the house, not wanting to go there again.
~
>Before anyone knows it, it’s March.
>The weather’s going to start getting warmer soon, and the Apple Family’s going to have to begin getting to work.
>Such is life out here in the rural counties, for most of the people at least.
>Meryl’s old house is slowly fading into the back of everyone’s memory, and even Big Mac is starting to turn his attention to other things.
>Like the new cars he suddenly sees driving around in the main street area of the small town he lives in.
>He’s never seen them before, and when they’ve been around for more than three weeks, he knows it’s someone staying here longer than just a vacation.
>When he starts hearing about “spring breakers” passing through the town, from multiple people he knows, he knows something’s up that he doesn’t need to have any doubt about.
>It’s been a long time since this town’s had any amount of outsiders trying to come in like they own the place and get everyone else to cater to their needs.
>As if the locals are supposed to be like natives waiting to be conquered, except they’re usually the only ones with actual guns.
>Which placed a little bit of a role reversal on the outsiders forcefully trying to make themselves at home.
>Things won’t shy away from getting like this when the situation calls for it.
>If anything, as even Applejack admitted one time, it gives her an excuse to potentially exercise her combat abilities she’s been working on - firearm combat abilities she develops from hunting.
>First Gretchen moving into Meryl’s creepy old house, now this.
>And the uneasy vibe that the former has set in that the Apple Family is starting to forget is going to have to wait.
>What Granny Smith said before holds some weight in the words right now.
>Things aren’t going to quiet down any time soon.
~
>Springtime is happening right now, and the warmer weather warrants much more hard work to be done now that the Big Freeze™ is over.
>For financial reasons, someone from the Apple Family has to go to a town much closer to the nearest city in order to do a few things regarding where they can sell and/or ship their apples to.
>It’s a little bit of a legal process, par for the course for some businesses that want to expand on how they make their money, even if they’re the type of business that grows a specific product to sell in numerous markets like apples.
>Lengthier explanation aside, it’s Big Mac’s turn to drive to the office place since Applejack went last time.
>So with that, he drives on over to a part of the state where there’s actually a fair amount of suburban areas, which takes a while.
>All of the paperwork is ready, and he plans to be out of there and get right back to the town he’s used to in as little time as possible.
>Sweet Apple Acres apples and other family-grown products might be expanding their reach to a few select grocery stores or markets, given how business treats them and there’s a little bit of legal stuff to go over before making a definite move.
>Gotta be allowed and able to first.
>Though, this is rather easy for Big Mac to go over with the guy in the suit behind the desk.
>The farm has been performing well and profiting off of their crops (including apples) with promising potential for their business’s future.
>Once all of the other crops are done being taken care of, the family can focus the most on their signature product, the apples themselves, to ensure the best quality is implemented.
>Business just might be expanding after all.
>A strong sense of pride fills Big Mac’s heart as he realizes that he and his hard-working family are going to be thriving as soon as next year, maybe even earlier.
>But this is not going to be what highlights today.
>…
>After Big Mac leaves at the end of the day, he notices something happening across the street now that the lights in the convenience store make it easier to see inside due to the darkening sky outside.
>Two masked men in the convenience store hold handguns up the the cashier at the front desk.
>Big Mac might not be used to towns like this one, but he knows what this is the very second he sees it.
>This has got to be a robbery.
>Without waiting another second, Big Mac goes and fetches his shotgun from under the driver’s seat of his pickup truck as the masked men finish up inside of the convenience store.
>They’re about to leave with the bag of money as Big Mac walks up to them, most of the bystanders too stunned and scared to call 911.
>The first thief notices Big Mac already has his own shotgun drawn and pointed right at them.
>While the second one has his gun pointed back into the store to cover the first one’s back.
>A focused Big Mac prays that neither of them aim at him, because he doesn’t want any shots fired today.
>But he’s not so lucky.
>The bystanders jump to the ground after a loud blam startles them.
>The next thing they know, one of the guys who was robbing the store lies on the ground, his forearm bleeding with bone sticking out while the connected hand limply clutches his own gun.
>And the other one surrendered his gun, hands in the air as people from inside the store tackle him.
>Half of the bystanders expect Big Mac to say something like someone would in those YouTube videos where a miraculously armed person stops a crime from happening.
>Like shouting at the robbers and telling them how much they screwed up or picked the wrong store. Something corny and along the lines of that.
>Big Mac just stands there with his firearm’s barrel lowered but at the ready to be raised again if necessary, glaring at the two men in masks without saying a word.
>The cops don’t arrive for another three minutes.
~
>”Ah can tell ya right now, that could happen to our town if we’re not careful.” Granny Smith continues to rant. “It always starts with the ones closer to the city, and then it spreads out. Little by little like mold on bread.”
>”Ah’m just glad yer alright.” Sighs Applejack.
>”We shouldn’t have to go into towns like that to do our business.” Continues Granny Smith. “It ain’t fair, someone should open up one of those fancy offices out here. Instead of one of them fruity gyms for them youngin’ folk with their peacock hair who don’t belong round here!”
>Big Mac and Applejack uncomfortably clear their throats.
>”Ah already re-checked the gun laws for this state and we’re safe. No one’s gonna ask me to do anything ‘cept possibly testify.” States Big Mac. “Surely they already understand our position.”
>”They should hold the trial out here! We shouldn’t have to go back to that god forsaken town where the city slickers have been invading. T’ain’t fair!”
>”Ah don’t have a choice, Granny Smith. The incident happened in their town, so it’s gotta be in their courthouse.”
>”They’re tryna drag you back into their realm and make you testify when all you did was save the day. Ya shouldn’t have to go back there and testify, ya already did the right thing.”
>Granny Smith usually gets like this regarding when someone has to go to a more urban-like area to do something, and it’s all kicking into high gear given the current circumstances.
>She does raise a good point that the family has to work hard on their business now that Spring is here, not to mention the spring-breakers that’ve been making the locals uneasy with their whole demeanor.
>Aren’t these people supposed to want to go to the beach? What the hell are they doing in the rural area of a landlocked flyover state? Did they mistake the seemingly endless, perfectly flat farmland for ocean after driving through it for so long?
>This doesn’t make sense, vacationers and tourists have never even come in on this scale before. Something’s wrong.
>Applebloom is busy in her room as the rest of her nuclear family discuss how to approach the move forward regarding what happened in that far away town.
>Granny Smith does her usual senile diatribe a little bit more before tuckering out and going back to griping about whatever other thing.
>Applejack goes back upstairs to polish the barrel of her rifle once more.
>Big Mac decides to fix the tractor out back to give himself something to do while he cools down and comes to his senses.
>Knowing he could have very well killed that man had the shotgun blast went just a little to the side.
>While he doesn’t want another person’s death to be on his conscience, he accepts that he would have had to do it if the person he shot was prepared to shoot him if he didn’t get them first.
>God should have no qualms about that.
~
>This is one evening that Applejack’s gonna have a lot of trouble not talking about.
>Something within her told her to go check out Meryl’s old house without anyone knowing; the curiosity must have finally gotten too strong.
>She take her hunting rifle and pistol with her, as well as a knife for backup, though she has no idea why she felt compelled to do this.
>But off she goes after it gets too dark to see much of what’s going on.
>The drive over wasn’t long, but it felt longer than it actually was.
>Before she knows it, Applejack is standing before the decrepit house.
>She struts up to it as gradually as she can, somehow finding that the front door is unlocked, and no one seems to be home.
>Without thinking, she enters without permission, taking all of her on-person weapons with her.
>The floor creaks beneath her feet, the boards as old as can be.
>It doesn’t take long for the feeling of someone watching her to overtake Applejack’s body.
>She starts to stiffen up in concern before entering the living room area of the house.
>In a dark corner, Applejack spots a dark figure seated in a chair, holding something that appears to be a long gun.
>…
>Right before she can fire back at this mystery person, she wakes up in bed in a cold sweat.
>Her eyes dart around the room, wondering what kind of premonition-like experience she just had.
~
>As Big Mac sits at the kitchen table contemplating his next action, he wonders what it would be like if he spent more time near that place where he stopped those two thieves.
>The more he learns about these people, the more he wants to know.
>He stares out the window at the vast fields of budding crops just as his younger sister usually does.
>The very slight silhouette of Meryl’s old house looks almost unfamiliar.
>Though, Big Mac’s memories regarding him are all too familiar.
>It just makes him wonder why the man would suddenly up and leave his home as quickly as he did.
>Almost as though he saw something coming.
>Big Mac thinks about The Sweet Apple Acres in which he lives, and Applejack, Applebloom, Granny Smith.
>He thinks about all of those people he saw all the way over there in that town he might have to go to a court case regarding now.
>He imagines if they tried to move all the way out here.
>”Ah didn’t want to have to do that to no one.” He mutters to himself. “But ah could, and ah did.”
>He gets up and goes outside to start up his truck, still not being done with his daily responsibilities yet.
>He continues.
>”Ah don’t wanna have to unload on no one else neither.” He mutters to a hypothetical newcomer out there somewhere. “But don’t get things confused, now. Ah can. And ah will.”
>He squints his eyes at the horizon in the direction of that loud city.
>The wind picks up, small clusters of dust get picked up along with it and glide across the open landscape of the rural countryside, waiting to one day be interrupted by the clicking of a shotgun.
>”Stay out of my territory.”
>…
>”Y’know, one of mah buddies from two towns over had a bit of a run-in with trouble.” Braeburn holds his beer on the bar counter, tired after a hard day’s work.
>”Have ah heard this one before?” Asks Big Mac.
>”This one’s recent.”
>Big Mac’s stomach churns a little upon realizing that there are still events going on.
>”And ah found out the whole backstory of who he was up against too. Read it in the paper. Was a pretty big thing.”
>Big Mac intently listens.
>”So mah buddy who doesn’t come to town often usually rides across the country with his closer buddies on their bikes.”
>”Their bikes?”
>”Motorized bicycles. Y’know, motorcycles. Don’t worry, they ain’t the kind that usually go lookin’ for trouble. It’s just their… method of getting around the states so much.”
>A nod eventually comes from Big Mac; he’s heard quite a few concerning stories about biker gangs as well.
>”So uh, what, these fellas are on our side or something?”
>”Yes sir. Working men, some got families, and so on and so forth. So anyway, lemme tell ya about who they caught comin’ into town and how they got there…” Braeburn begins. “There’s this sayin’ that they got amongst one another:”
…
>They say you'll never truly have to worry about what you experience in your nightmares.
>But they also say that nobody can live forever, and everybody will pass away one day.
~
>"Boss says he wants the shipment exported by tomorrow morning." One of the hired guns proclaims. "I got a few guys out west who can make the transfer where we don't got no cops every couple of blocks."
>These men are all determined to get the job done in time so Filthy Rich will indirectly pay them.
>As per routine, they all get ready to travel to whatever new warehouse the exchange is supposed to take place in, except this one is much further away from the city.
>It's out in the suburbs.
>They all take the dozens of locked suitcases they were given and drive over to the destination, prepared to make a violent escape if they need to.
>Those phone calls that were made turned out to be wire tapped, but this wasn't made immediately obvious.
>Everyone gets out of their cars late at night armed with their uzis, pistols and whatnot.
>Almost all participants enter the building, wonder where those blue and red lights just came from, pull out their pieces and engage in a gunfight with SWAT teams.
>They, of course, inevitably lose even with black market guns on their side, which are subsequently confiscated as the getaway drivers lead the police on a prolonged chase down various highways.
>With this, the vast majority of the attention of law enforcement in the suburban area is diverted to this, and two men driving a stolen 18 wheeler truck leave from the opposite side of the city from where the red herring even is taking place.
>"Boss" already knew his people were being listened to, so he changed what was being said on the main lines while telling these guys to drive into the rural areas out west behind everyone else's backs.
>Meanwhile, throughout the suburbs, everyone witnessing the crime going on considering moving further away from the city since the things happening there keep spilling out into their no-longer-peaceful neighborhoods.
>...
>"Make sure to keep the amounts exactly the same so none of the weigh-stations will check out your cargo." The more well-paid hired gun with an automatic rifle reminds his acquaintance.
>Loads and loads of money and “goods” are transferred between vehicles in the middle of the night in a secluded location.
>Now, no one of them have been to this town before, some of whom haven’t left the city more than one or two times in their entire lives up until around this point.
>This is unfamiliar territory to these men, and they can’t help but feel uneasy.
>Though, one of them is a crooked cop who got his hands dirty in the shady business, so they can ret assured that law enforcement isn’t going to willy nilly come out here, and any bystanders can be herded off if they question what’s going on.
>And locals around here who happen to be bystanders.
>”If we’re going to make transfers like this more frequent, we’ve gotta find a more sturdy spot first. We don’t know much about here yet.” Another armed man with a thick accent says. “Sure the coast is clear tonight, but who’s to say every night here is like this? It’s too risky until we know who comes here and how often.”
>”’Kay, pal. No problemo.” The guy he’s talking to responds. “I’ll get a couple-uh guys out here every week or two and have em uhh, y’know. Check things out, make sure everythin’s gonna be runnin’ smoothly. How’s that sound, that good with you?”
>”Sounds like a good plan. But until then, where would be the most optimal spot to do business with you?” Asks the guy with the thick accent, scratching his even thicker beard with his stern hand. “I have heard how eager your boss can get and I think it’s no secret that my company should stay in his good graces as a reliable trading partner.”
>”We’ll stick to smaller transactions in the near future for now to keep things simple until we can, y’know, spread our wings a little more.”
>”Hey uh, this ramp’s a little flimsy, Owl. Might wanna do somethin’ about that next time we pull one of these off.” A third guy holding a huge bag of questionable substances calls over from the inside of the 18 wheeler.
>”Owl” looks back over at him in the darkness. “Well how the fuck are we gonna do that? Boss picked our truck for us, you think I got magic hands or somethin’? I’m inspector fuckin’ gadget now? Get it together, Sparrow!”
>The approaching growl of multiple motorcycles suddenly becomes apparent, right before a collection of a few single-headlights can be seen coming down the highway off-ramp.
>They’re still fairly far away, but the lights and motors can still be noticed by anyone who has properly functioning eyes and ears.
>”Ah shit, we gotta wrap this up.”
>”You hear that? You think those are bikers?”
>”What the fuck would bikers be doin’ up at this time? Buying groceries?”
>”How the fuck should I know? Look look, everyone get in the truck and pretend no one’s here, I’ll just pretend on workin’ on some other shit if they come over here.”
>Sure enough, the bikers advance down the long rural road in the middle of the night, easy to spot from a long way away due to there being almost nothing out here.
>But they know a lot more about the local environment than these men do, and know when the huge truck they can see in the distance accompanied by a bunch of unfamiliar cars has NEVER been there before.
>At first, “Sparrow” Though it’d just be two or maybe three guys.
>It’s eight.
>And all eight of them slow down when passing by the huge truck that sticks out like a sore thumb in the dirt parking lot.
>They probably would have kept going if they didn’t see someone in a hoodie acting really suspicious, pretending to be fixing the truck’s tires or something he haphazardly came up with on the spot.
>They all pull into the lot one by one.
>”Sparrow” awkwardly nods over to them and continues to fiddle with the truck’s front wheel with a wrench he pulled out of the back of his car.
>No one’s buying it.
>Footsteps now crunch on the gravel as they approach him.
>”Hey, uh. Can I help you?” The nervous goon looks at all their rugged faces in the light reflecting off the side of the truck.
>”What’s goin’ on here?” One of the bikers asks. “You lost?”
>”Nah, uh, I’m just tryin’ to get my… truck fixed.”
>Another biker shakes his head at one of his buddies, knowing that no one fixes a tire with the way this guy was poking the hubcap with a wrench.
>”Hey Carl, he talks like a city slicker. Fixes a tire like one too.” One biker heckles before turning to “Sparrow” and walking towards him. “Alright, fucker. We ain’t stupid, you’re obviously up to no good out here.”
>”Who’s cars are these?” Another one begins to press questions. “Surely you don’t drive all ‘ovem. Who else is here?”
>The confrontation goes south incredibly fast.
>”Do you own these cars?”
>”E-excuse me, you’re invading my personal sp-“
>”I SAID DO YOU OWN THESE CARS?!”
>Everything turns into a shoving tussle, until one of the henchmen with his uzi steps out of the back of the truck.
>The very instant the bikers notice this, they all collectively draw their own guns and knives.
>A few rapid fire bursts of metal ricochet off of the bikes as their owners scatter for their defense weapons.
>The henchman hangs off the back rim of the truck’s opening, shouting something in probably Russian before firing again.
>”Owl” emerges with his AK and gets ready to join in.
>A loud shotgun blast rings out and puts a massive hole in the side of the truck. It’s followed by a few pistol shots from the same direction.
>”Fuck!” Sparrow ducks behind the vehicle as his comrade fires in the direction of the headlights some more.
>It’s hard to get a clear shot with all 8 of the headlights pointing right at them, like being in a spotlight on a stage and unable to see the audience.
>Bullets start frantically flying everywhere.
>Car windows can be heard shattering, rapidly maneuvering footsteps rearrange the patterns on the dirt as metal shells start to litter the ground.
>”Yo let’s get outta here! I can’t see shit!” Someone hiding behind the truck scrambles to find the keys to the ignition.
>”You fucked up now!” The biker in front advances with his barrel pointed right as where he last saw the man with the uzi. “Stand down and no one gets hurt!”
>He hears someone shouting profanities along with seeing feet on the other side of the truck upon crouching down to look underneath.
>With a ready trigger finger, he unloads a couple more shots, hitting one of them in the foot.
>More shots echo into the air as the wounded criminal falls to the ground into view of the bikers on the other side.
>”Sparrow" somehow manages to get behind the driver’s east of the mostly loaded up truck with someone in the back to close the back hatch.
>A nightmarish shotgun blast tears through the door on the passenger’s side, and severely injures “Sparrow’s” right arm.
>But he starts the vehicle and proceeds to make his escape.
>He was in an unwinnable situation, he had to flee. Banishing himself from this land.
>He tries to run over the bikes to prevent pursuit, but misses on account of a shot-up windsheild blocking half of his view.
>This truck isn’t meant to fare against gunshots at all, so anything else being shot onto the truck goes right through and is capable of hitting anyone inside.
…
>”After that, it seems like they must have gotten a couple of the guys inside too.” Braeburn concludes the story. “Ah gotta tell ya, we’re gettin’ some real trouble in recent years with them city folk comin’ round here.”
>Big Mac, while finding it hard to find the entire story believable, still takes into account that it’s not so much unrealistic anymore, at least not as much as several years ago.
>Anyway, they talk for a bit more, but the story Braeburn told stays fresh in Big Mac’s head.
>Nothing else they talk about really gets retained in his memory, it’s all about those mafia-like people having a run-in with a biker gang, as unrealistic as that sounds.
>But having recently shot someone, Big Mac wonders if it’s going to be his turn to encounter trouble being brought to this town.
~
>Outside of Big Mac having to go testify in court, there’s really been nothing noteworthy going on regarding the Apple Family.
>And even then, the entire ordeal was only long and drawn out.
>Whole lot of talking, working things out with the attorneys and paperwork, and the judge being more level headed than anyone in the entire universe.
>Big Mac had to dress all fancy in a stupid looking suit, go in and testify under oath that he only shot the robber because he was defending the store from being robbed, and that the robber was clearly armed and dangerous, etc. etc.
>Compared to most other trials, it was extremely short given how obvious it is that those two men were literally just robbing a convenience store, but the system is the system (annoyingly).
>Big Mac hopes he never has to shoot anyone again in order to avoid going through that inconvenient process of testifying in court again.
>But now that’s over, and it’s the beginning of Summer now.
>The family members are out back on the weekend barbecuing and celebrating the change of the season in the middle of the frequent times they have to take care of business.
>So far today, the weather has been alright, but several storm clouds have been building up and approaching from one direction.
>But a severe thunderstorm warning has cut the fun time short.
>Usually, this doesn’t worry the locals all that much for the most part when a thunderstorm is about to come in, since they’re used to it.
>But it was specifically stated that this upcoming supercell storm is especially strong and fast moving.
>When there’s enough red on the doppler radar image, it’s enough to convince more locals to take the warning seriously.
>Because they also know what has happened around here before albeit less frequently.
>Applejack decides it’s a good idea to get a few things from the local market before the storm comes rolling on in.
>She heads off immediately, but the dark clouds are already quickly creeping up by the time she’s halfway over to there.
>That forecast apparently wasn’t lying, that huge wall of clouds up there is churning vehemently and approaching the town’s area cartoonishly fast.
>The dark section below flickers with constant lightning, and the blankets of rain are already blurring everything spanning to the ground.
>With this, Applejack hastens her pace, suddenly hearing on the car radio that there’s a tornado warning for a number of counties.
>This town’s county included in the list of counties that usually isn’t this long.
>Deciding not to go back yet as the store is right there past the next traffic light, Applejack persists and eventually pulls into the parking lot.
>Whether it was because she did it in a rush or otherwise, one of the front tires makes a loud popping noise and goes flat.
>”What the… well ain’t that some shit.” Applejack grunts angrily and hurries out of the truck as the wind picks up a lot.
>She’s obviously not going to have any time to change the tire until after the storm has passed, so she parks the pickup into an empty space at the furthest corner and heads into the store.
>The wind picks up even more, becoming increasingly turbulent every several seconds.
>”Ah didn’t expect God to put up a challenge for me today.” Applejack enters the store to find a bunch of customers grouped inside of there to wait out the storm like she’s about to.
>”Just lettin’ ya know, cellar door’s over there in case this turns into somethin’.” The cashier points to a poorly painted door in the corner.
>The radio is on in here too so everyone’s updated.
>Over the next few minutes, the wind outside gets so powerful that it’d be incredibly difficult to walk in a straight line through it.
>The rain can now be heard bombarding the roof and side of the place.
>It’s almost hard to hear what the weather station is saying, but the beeps and alarms would have already been enough without the nearly drowned out voice confirming that there is a tornado on the ground.
>The cellar door is already being unlocked and opened.
>With a few preliminary flickers, the lights all go out right before the radio turns to static.
>The pummeling of the rain is momentarily replaced by an ominous rumbling sound that everyone cramped into the dark cellar can already identify.
>It gets closer, paired with a screeching howl that mimics that of a freight train.
>After about 20 more second of this, it recedes and silence comes after, with the store still intact.
>Everyone waits for a minute or two to be sure.
>Right as Applejack is the first to stand up, a deafening crashing sound overhead surprises everyone.
>Applejack shuts her eyes and covers her head, but stays on her feet.
>The silence resumes, and after a few more minutes, everyone gets up and exits the cellar to find that a large uprooted tree had fallen directly onto the store.
>Now the building is not intact.
>…
>Well that whole event was rather sudden.
>Mother nature really does do it like that sometimes.
>None of the cars in the parking lot were hit by the stray tree.
>The fact that it hit directly onto the building is a hell of a coincidence, and a couple of people are already laughing about the probability to ease the mood.
>Applejack helps out with anything she can regarding the damaged store, and eventually moves on to fixing her tire after professionals and the fire department make their way over to inspect and help clean up the damage.
>She gets out all the tools she needs and renders her pickup truck ready for the road again about 30 minutes later.
>Leaving the equipped crews and mangled, splintered wood behind.
>The only thing on her mind is her family.
>And as the destroyed store disappears over the increasingly orange-tinted horizon, Applejack starts to look around for anywhere else that got damaged.
>As she approaches Sweet Apple Acres as quickly as she can, the place itself looks to be intact, same for Meryl’s old house.
>But when she pulls up the driveway and gets a closer look at the place, it’s clear that all of the windows were shattered presumably by the powerful winds.
>The concerning part is that the front door is also wide open, and eerily so.
>She steps out of her pickup and immediately starts calling for Granny Smith, Applebloom and Big Mac.
>Her heart speeds up when she doesn’t hear any response.
>It’s been long enough since the storm passed that they should be out of the cellar by now.
>Though, the place isn’t destroyed, so this really doesn’t add up.
>Applejack carefully retrieves a revolver she had under the seat of the pickup and enters the house.
>The softly howling wind winds through the hallways from outside through every shattered-open window, only accompanying Applejack’s cautious footsteps against the creaky hardwood floor.
>The empty house has become so intimidating now that the enclosed, wholesome space has been broken open by a powerful storm.
>Every hallway is now strange territory, and the dull howling of the wind creeps through the hallways like a phantom.
>Applejack instinctively keeps her gun drawn, increasingly worried about why her family has disappeared from this place; their own home.
>Her heart slowly begins to sink, and concern transforms into genuine fear as she peeks around every corner on her way up to her room.
>The very moment she is able to confirm it is still here and get ahold of it, Applejack switches her choice of weapon from the pistol to her own hunting rifle.
>Something simply tells her that she needs it in this moment.
>Still keeping the pistol on her hip, Applejack ventures through the rest of the house.
>There are things tossed and turned all over the place in some rooms, especially the kitchen where there were even a couple of plates that fell and shattered on the floor.
>But the worst red flag is that there are a couple of drawers open, indicating that there might have been someone in here who wasn’t supposed to be here.
>”Is anyone here?” Applejack forces herself to call out, not really expecting an answer either way.
>The cellar is empty, the attic is empty, every bedroom is empty, all devoid of people.
>The howl of the wind persists, hitting gut wrenching tones that make Applejack considerably uneasy.
>It doesn’t take her long to somewhat conclude that she is still somehow not alone here.
>If it was anyone she knows, they would have called back at her by now.
>The wind momentarily tapers down, leaving nothing but dead silence inside the home.
>Applejack uses the next minute or so to try the kitchen phone, but only gets the exact result she expected when she walked in: nothing, not even a dial tone.
>All the phone lines are down, and Applebloom was the only one in the family who bothered to keep a mobile phone on her all the time.
>As for Applejack, she always misplaced hers, and fails to find it upon going back upstairs in search of it.
>There’s no way to contact any of her family members, which only makes her feel more sick in her stomach.
>Applejack’s boots beat against the wooden floors, occasionally making broken glass crunch under them.
>It upsets Applejack to see her home like this, but she knows she’ll be able to fix things up with Big Mac’s help.
>She peers outside up at the churning clouds overhead that almost resemble a witch’s brew.
>But she doesn’t focus on that for long, still thinking of a way to contact her family and possibilities that they may have left this place in a hurry.
>The wind outside picks up once again, now even louder than before.
>Right as Applejack figures the only reasonable option left is to check the local hospital, she hears the front door slam shut from the opposite side of the house.
>Assuming it was the wind, Applejack heads to the front of the house which she was going to do anyway.
>But the door is locked, which had no way of happening without someone using the mechanism.
>Applejack’s eyes widen upon this sudden discovery, and tries to open the door that won’t even unlock for some reason.
>She tries and tries, under the impression that someone slammed it while escaping to outside and is getting away.
>Out of nowhere, Applejack feels as though someone is breathing down her neck, and swears she can hear it the very instant she yelps and spins around with her arms flailing.
>It felt like there were dozens of imaginary hands grabbing ahold of her and trying to pull her back into the house.
>Now something is really wrong here.
>But Applejack turned around to find that she’s still completely alone here.
>She clumsily picks her rifle back up after having dropped it after tussling around with literal thin air.
>”If someone’s here, ya better not be tryin’ anythin’ funny. I’m armed, and ah ain’t afraid to put a hole in you if ya make me.” Applejack suppresses the shakiness in her voice.
>The house falls completely silent again, the wind dying down once more.
>Applejack can see how much she’s shaking from how much the barrel of her rifle is shaking.
>”You hear me?!”
>More silence.
>”Ah ain’t playin’ around with you.” Applejack lets the click of the rifle ring loudly as she takes one step away from the door. “This here ain’t yer house.”
>After another half a minute of nothing happening, the door to a crawlspace area under the stairs slowly creaks open right in front of Applejack.
>The creak is low and drawn out, sending shivers up Applejack’s spine, but the more terrifying thing is knowing that someone is actually here who doesn’t belong here.
>Applejack croaks in fear as she watches and listens to the door opens as slowly as physically possible.
>She starts shaking more, and keeps her eyes glued to the crack of the door between the door itself and the door frame.
>After a couple of seconds, Applejack internally wishes she hadn’t
>Through that slim crack of the door appear a pair of the most dead looking eyes Applejack has ever seen in her life.
>There’s really no other way to describe them other than dead despite them being completely wide open.
>Two horrifically dead looking eyes, on a face that has to be tilted sideways in order for both eyes to look through the gap at once.
>It’s enough to prompt Applejack to semi-intentionally fire out a shot from her rifle.
>The shot blasts the door and slams it back shut, leaving a jagged hole where the bullet went through.
>Applejack stands frozen in place and in position, in complete shock of what she saw.
>In HER house.
>Her trembling legs force themselves to venture forward with her sight locked onto the door.
>There is no way out of that crawlspace other than the door itself, obviously.
>So who -or what- ever is in there, is undoubtably still in there, not making a sound.
>Applejack almost says something else as she now stands in front of the door, but the fact that one shot has already been fired indicates that things are past the point of talking.
>She doesn’t know why she feels this way about this situation, but she fires another shot through the middle of the door, puncturing a hole through the wood.
>Whatever is in there, she does not want to communicate with it… not after seeing THOSE horrifyingly dead eyes.
>”Applejack?!” Big Mac’s voice suddenly appears out of nowhere outside the front door. “What’s goin’ on in there? Open the door!”
>”Big Mac!” Applejack calls out.
>Keeping her rifle pointed at the crawlspace door, Applejack steps over to the door and uses her briefly free hand to try the front door’s knob again.
>It opens without any trouble this time.
>”Y’alright? I heard ya shootin’.” Big Mac hastily lumbers in with a worried look, instantly noticing that Applejack has her rifle pointed at the crawlspace door with bullet holes in it.
>He had already retrieved his shotgun upon hearing gunshots ringing out inside his own house.
>Big Mac points his barrel in the same direction applejack is pointing hers.
>”Who’s in there?” Big Mac growls, getting into his most aggressive mode. “Looters?”
>Applejack shakes her head in lingering horror, somehow certain of her answer.
>”An animal, then?”
>”…Ah don’t know what the hell’s in there.” Applejack stares at the door. “But it’s got the most devilish eyes ah have ever seen.”
>Big Mac gulps as he hears her say this, but keeps his own gun pointed at the door as well.
>The two siblings step in front of either side of the door, cornering anything that can come out.
>Now more confident with her older brother by her side, Applejack reaches and turns the knob.
>The door creaks open once again, with Big Mac on the side where whatever could come out is going to come out.
>He’s ready to pull the trigger, but he sees nothing in the dark little crawlspace.
>There’s no lights in there to switch on, but the outside light is enough to make out that the room is empty like the rest of the house.
>There’s a long pause before Applejack begins.
>”Ah swear there was somethin’ there.” She stresses. “It had eyes and everythin’.”
>Big Mac puts a hand on her shoulder, already knowing that Applejack wouldn’t make something like this up, especially not enough to waste ammunition over.
>”I’ve seen enough weird things goin’ on recently to believe ya, but there’s nothing we can do right now. Ah need you to come with me to the hospital.”
>”What happened? Are Granny Smith and Applebloom okay?”
>”Granny Smith must have got a heart attack cause of the twister that came close to the house, ah needed to drive her in immediately. She’s in the emergency room.”
>Applejack’s focus shifts right back to her family’s well-being after getting confirmation that it’s in jeopardy.
>…
>On the ride over, Applejack couldn’t stop thinking about all the extra times she checked the crawlspace after Big Mac investigated it with her.
>It just doesn’t make any sense.
>She knows exactly what she saw.
>And she has a bad feeling about leaving that house all alone once again.
>But at the same time, she needs to go see Granny Smith in the emergency room; it’s not like that’s something she can just ignore.
>By the time she reunites with Applebloom in the waiting room, she is given a quick rundown of everything that’s happened with Granny Smith.
>She must have had a heart attack out of shock when the tornado hit the town since she’s so old, and it wasn’t clear what progress the people working on her right now have been able to make.
>Everyone else is required to sit out here and wait, which is what prompted Big Mac to quickly drive back to the house to see if Applejack returned yet.
>She had, and apparently not alone, but Big Mac couldn’t find anything to make any kind of case out of.
>In the meantime, the rest of the immediate Apple Family sit in the waiting room for any developments on Granny Smith whatsoever.
>Applebloom uses her method of contact by mobile phone to eventually spread the news to the rest of the Apple Family, who are already making plans to come over if things take a turn for the worse.
>Applejack meanwhile doesn’t like not having anything to do, and eventually wonders if she has time to go back to the house and at least make sure no one tries to come and steal anything.
>She really does have a pressing urge to defend the home at all costs, which is understandable enough for Big Mac to ask her if she herself wants to go back or if she wants him to go back instead.
>Applejack settles with staying in the waiting room as Big Mac heads back to the house to make sure everything’s at least close enough to secure.
>Applejack goes back to looking out a nearby window from a side hallway, back out at the vast open plains as the sun finishes setting and the sky grows entirely dark after Big Mac pulls away.
>So far, it is uncertain whether or not Granny Smith is going to walk out of here.
>Applejack gets onto her knees and begins to pray.
>…
>After the sun sets, someone who was sleeping in Meryl’s old house finally gets out of basement to find all of the windows shattered from the powerful tornado winds.
>…
>Moondancer slowly but surely wakes up after having a dream she can’t remember much of other than the fact that she was back at the motel room she was at before and one of the doors were barricaded to keep anyone outside from getting in.
>And right before that, she was running in the dream but the dream had slowed her run to a crawl and she couldn’t move more than the pace of a raindrop falling down a window.
>She had awoken from the dream as the sound of someone who was unnaturally screaming at her filled her ears, and was replaced by the sound of the howling wind.
>Upon sitting up in the mattress she had set up in the basement to wait out the massive storm that just hit, she hears the howling of the wind more clearly.
>It must be nighttime by now, and the storm is long gone.
>Moondancer regains her composure and gets ready to write this dream down like all of the others before it leaves her memory.
>But her notebook she writes everything in is up on the second floor.
>Finally, light hits Moondancer’s face as she climbs the stairs and sees the slit of moonlight sneaking through the bottom crack of the door.
>She’s relieved to see that the house is still standing even after whatever tornado came through that she heard about when keeping track of the weather forecast.
>All of the windows are busted open though; the glass is shattered from the strong force of the winds from earlier.
>And that’s not going to fare well for whenever the next winter is going to be.
>While she walks through the decrepit house, the low wind continues to howl.
>Moondancer almost feels a presence with her in the house, something is just telling her that it might be dangerous to go upstairs without her weapon she still has.
>After fetching it from the basement, Moondancer takes her suppressed shotgun and creeps her way up the loud creaky stairs that sound like they’re going to collapse any day now.
>Every dark corner of the house could have something lurking in it, and the lights cannot be turned on.
>Moondancer confirms this upon trying a light switch and seeing nothing happen.
>The first hallways upstairs that leads to all the other doors is only lit up at the end by a small window.
>The curtains gently sway into the premises before being violently blown by another eerie gust of wind.
>Moondancer knows which room she left the book in before taking shelter in the basement, and fixes to enter that room as soon as she is behind the closed door.
>The wind outside blows more ferociously than before.
>Every floorboard that Moondancer steps on creaks as though it’s in pain.
>A few clouds outside must have dimmed the moonlight seeping into the house for a few seconds, because the lighting gets a little bit darker right as the wind’s howling intensifies.
>This empty shell of a house doesn’t seem to want Moondancer within its walls anymore, like she never belonged there.
>That wouldn’t be too much of a long shot given how she got here.
>But Moondancer calmly persists into the blackness of the room, unable to even see the bed or the nightstand she knows she left the book on.
>The only light source comes from the draped up window, and the drapes in this room are old and tattered enough to let more light through than they should.
>But even then, there is nowhere near enough light in the room to see anything at all.
>Annoyed, Moondancer remembers she also has a flashlight in one of the other bedrooms, though she was hoping to go right back to sleep after writing down her dream and that she wouldn’t have needed it.
>She already walks around the bed, feeling her way around, and made it to the nightstand.
>But she cannot feel the notebook on he wooden surface.
>Her brow furrows, as she KNOWS she left it in this room somewhere and she can’t check the rest of the room without seeing what she’s doing first.
>As Moondancer makes her way back around the bed to exit the room, she senses something odd about the bed.
>As though there’s a presence associated with it.
>But she figures she’ll see what that’s all about when she has the flashlight.
>When she’s back into the hallways, Moondancer notices that the wind has completely ceased.
>As in, stopped entirely, without a single sound except her footsteps on the wooden floors now.
>This convinces Moondancer to cock the shotgun, given her prior experiences that ultimately led up to her current situation.
>After sifting through a bag in another bedroom, Moondancer picks up the flashlight, turns it on and heads back to the room where the notebook of her recorded dreams is.
>The sudden complete silence of this broken window house feels suspicious, and Moondancer gets the unshakeable feeling she is being watched.
>She steps into the doorway and shines the flashlight at the nightstand.
>There’s a lower component of the nightstand with a shelf, and right on that is the notebook Moondancer didn’t think to reach further down for.
>But at the same time, the flashlight catches… a foot on the bed.
>A small leather shoed foot, clearly that of a doll.
>The silhouette of the foot also protrudes onto the wall with the shape of the bed as well.
>Moondancer moves the light over to the head of the bed and pauses when she sees what the foot is attached to.
>It’s a really /really/ old doll.
>It has an unnaturally wide, dark head with a flat face with eyes that are too close together to even make sense.
>Its hair messily sticks out from the sides of its head, and its dirty, smudged dress it’s wearing isn’t even registered when Moondancer notices that the doll is staring DIRECTLY at her.
>Moondancer feels a slight jolt within herself, but then pulls the trigger to her suppressed shotgun.
>The customized firearm quietly shrieks instead of letting Moondancer do so, and the shotgun blast rips into the doll and sends it flying into the bedroom wall.
>Moondancer then nonchalantly walks around the bed to the narrow space where the doll itself landed between her and the notebook she wants.
>Shining the flashlight downward, Moondancer notices the doll twitching on its own, but it doesn’t make any sounds.
>The very instant the doll starts moving even more in what looks like an attempt to stand up, Moondancer fires another round into it, but only after stepping closer to it in order to fire at an angle less likely to hit the notebook.
>The doll is thrown by Moondancer across the room out the doorway and plops into the hallway.
>Moondancer grabs the notebook, notices the doll still squirming around on the floor in the hallway, and blasts at it again…
>…
>The following morning, Big Mac notices that Meryl’s old house also has all of it’s windows broken down.
>Knowing that Gretchen didn’t really appear to be the type to know how to deal with these kinds of things, he decides to pay her a short visit while waiting for an update from the emergency room.
>He pulls up to the house in his truck and steps out, fairly willing to confront the young lady once more..



>The wind had picked up once more, but Big Mac's heavy footfalls crunching the gravel beneath his work boots were picked up by Moondancer's ears.
>By "Gretchen's" ears.
>The tattered, blown open horror doll is thrown down the basement stairs.
>"Gretchen? You in there?" Big Mac's voice hastens her pace.
>The front door is momentarily unlocked.
>"Hey." Moondancer tensely greets him.
>"Ah see you're a little shook up too." Big Mac points out. "Eyup, well welcome to tornado alley ah suppose."
>"Quite an interesting welcome to the place."
>Big Mac chuckles. "Mah friend down in Oklahoma says it's the only proper way to introduce newcomers to the state."
>"Heh, yeah."
>"Hey uh, listen. Ah figured it'd prolly be a mighty inconvenience to you to have to fix all yer windows yourself." Big Mac starts. "Fallin' short of losing the whole house altogether."
>"You're offering to help me?"
>"Well of course! That's what neighbors are for 'round here." Big Mac starts saying things that would have Granny Smith leaping out of the hospital bed to paddle him if she heard it. "Ah reckon yer still gettin' settled in, and I'm quite handy with repair work, so lending a hand is the least ah can do."
>"I uh, thank you." Blinks Moondancer.
>Big Mac currently can't remember whether or not he asked "Gretchen" where she's from, or what she answered with, given all of the stress going on at the moment.
>But he doesn't bother asking about that right now.
>With a few more verbal exchanges, Moondancer invited Big Mac in, acting as though she's like him and never killed as single person in her life.
>The two meander through the house, mulling over the estimated damage costs, stepping over the shards of shattered glass so it down't pierce into the rubber of their soles crunching against them.
>Moondancer gives Big Mac a funny look when he's turned away.
>Contemplating if he already knows too much or not.
>Those other two wimpy hipster guys weren't hard to dispose of, but this guy is clearly physically superior and a much harder worker than they were.
>She can already tell he's the kind to know how to handle a firearm too, the presence of which had to be hidden from view as she let him into the house, which means she can't silence Big Mac if he learns too much.
>Meanwhile, Big Mac is getting some really suspicious vibes from "Gretchen".
>She's about the same height and type of build he is, which is odd considering she's obviously a young lady judging by her hair, voice, jawline, overall facial structure, etc.
>But her body itself looks just about as big and strong as his is, she has a lot of build underneath that sweater, he can tell.
>She either already knows how to do a lot of farm work like him, or she's a city slicker who loves going to the gym and gulp down raw eggs and whatnot.
>If she were to try anything funny, his shotgun is all the way back in his truck, where he can't immediately access it if she pulls something on him at this very moment.
>...
>Both Moondancer and Big Mac think about their currently unavailable weapons of choice as they walk through the house together, feeling a mutual suspicion for one another.
>Checking every window and talking about which stores are the best to get new glass from.
>It soon comes to the point Big Mac is on he way out and back to his truck.
>Moondancer sighs in relief, knowing this probably won't be the last encounter since he will surely return to help her fix her windows after the force from the tornado's winds shattered them.
>They might have their weapons a little bit closer next time.