Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Stable

[froodle]

The spot where the Eerie Stables had once stood was now an empty field, the only sign of its former occupant a blackened corner stone at the northern edge, scorched and split by the heat of the fire that had swept through the wooden building over a century ago. In the dark of the new moon, the outlines of the collapsed structure stood slate-grey against the deeper black of the night, and the starlight shone through a roof and windows that no longer existed in any corporeal sense. Torch beams flickered over the uneven turf and a creature of cold sweat and night terrors nickered unhappily as it was led forward by a bridle of woven dreams.

Simon signalled the other two to stop and, winding the wispy silver reigns around his hand, reached up to stroke the scaled and clammy face of the NightMare. It shook its mane, which was currently taking on the form of dozens of clutching human hands, and twitched its head out of his reach, turning to stare fixedly at a point in the distance.

The NightMare had eight spindly legs with multiple joints like those of an enormous spider, and though its long broad muzzle was similar to that of a large cart horse, its lips extended all the way back to just below its eyes, giving it a dog-like countenance rendered unnerving by the slimy grey tongue that lolled between its curving, needle-like teeth. It turned its heavy head towards Simon and glowered at him with eyes that shone the dirty yellow-brown of a killing London fog. Simon looked hurt.

“You know you can’t stay in the house,” he said. “You’ll like it here, I promise. You’ll have all these other horses to play with.”

The NightMare cast a contemptuous glance at the equine shades that milled about the half-seen stables. A flaming steed, whose rider had slain dragons and ogres and won fully seven kingdoms (usually piecemeal, as part of a deal with the rulers of said kingdoms to rid them of aforementioned beasties) as well as the hand of numerous princesses in marriage before dying of exposure after his infidelity was uncovered and he was thrown from all his various castles in rapid succession, was sharing a nosebag with a skeletal mount who was getting oats everywhere as a result of them falling through its empty ribcage. A quarter-pony, a tiny breed that lived in sewers and ate maintenance workers, trotted by with dainty steps, accompanied by a water horse fully three stories high, its mane foaming white and its coat a beautiful shade of sea-green.

“We’ll come and visit you,” added Simon, his tone placating.

Marshall started, making the beam of his flashlight jump.

“I’ll come and visit you,” Simon amended. The NightMare stared at the ground, its expression sulky.

“Ugh,” said Dash. “Come on; let’s just get this over with. I’m not spending all of my Friday night standing in a field with a ghost-horse throwing a strop.”

An actual ghost-horse, a creature of mist and moonlight, looked over in surprise. Dash waved it away and it went back to drifting in and out of the darkened hedgerows, untroubled by brambles or prickers or, indeed, much of anything. Ghost-horses were by and large a placid breed.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Simon, rummaging in his coat pockets for a half-eaten bag of doughnuts filled with cheese and coated with chocolate. The six identical old ladies who ran Grandma’s Kitchen had looked askance the first time he had asked for that particular combination, but these days they started ladling hot fudge and chocolate sprinkles onto savoury pastries the moment he walked in the door. They were the NightMare’s very favourite treat, although they had proved surprisingly popular with the Kitchen’s human customer base as well.

The NightMare accepted the proffered snack with ill-grace, still refusing to look directly at Simon and instead shooting him sidelong glances beneath thick dark lashes. Powdered sugar and chocolate syrup smeared its long jaws and it licked its grey lips with a tongue a little too serpentine for comfort. Simon rubbed the tender spot between the two glowing eyes, his fingers rasping against the rough scale of the NightMare’s coat, and gave the bridle an experimental tug. The NightMare took a few reluctant steps forward, accidently-on-purpose treading on Dash’s foot as it passed. Dash jumped back with a muffled curse, and Marshall angled his torch down and away from his face so nobody would see him smirking.

Simon ignored them both, leading the unhappy equine to the spectral doors of the long-gone stable, murmuring reassurances as he went. A shoal of sea horses, shod in tiny silver shoes and wearing winter coats of soft sea lichen woven for them by socially-conscious Lorelei, swept past on the curving crest of the water horse’s tail. They trilled a greeting in the bubbling tongue of the undersea creatures, but the NightMare only curled the wide slash of its mouth in distain.

“Don’t be like that,” Simon reproved it. “They’re nice. Don’t you want to make some new friends?”

The NightMare shook its great black head and the fringe of human fingers that lined the proud curve of its neck and spine wriggled in distress.

The burning steed trotted over, drawn by the smell of the treats still in Simon’s outstretched hand. It nuzzled Simon’s shoulder, filling the air with burning embers and the smell of singed cotton as it set his coat sleeve on fire. Simon patted out the flames, then handed the single remaining doughnut to the black and orange horse that stood flickering in a pool of its own inner light. The NightMare whinnied in displeasure and shied away from the burning horse, who looked hurt.

Simon gave Marshall a pleading look.

“He hates it here!” he said. “Can’t we put him back in the garden shed? All the cockatrice have hatched their basilisk babies now, and it would just be until we figure something else out.”

“We’ve tried everything else,” said Marshall, as gently as he could on three weeks of interrupted sleep caused by a clingy spectral pony invading his dreams. “He doesn’t get on with Sparky, and the manticore won’t even come out of the bathroom when he’s around. I’ve been showering with a man-eating desert monster watching at me for the past two months.”

He shoved the flashlight into the breast pocket of his jacket and began to count off on his fingers.

“He wouldn’t pull the Ghost Wagon on Grungy Bill’s cattle trail and he didn’t get on with the Phantom Coachman’s black stallions. He bit the Headless Horseman, trampled the White Lady and screamed at the kelpies until the Lorelei came out and yelled at us.”

“And Herne the Hunter said he would turn all of us into enchanted hounds and make us chase jackalopes across the blood plains for eternity if we ever let him near the Wild Hunt again,” added Dash.

“He needs a herd, Simon,” said Mars. “He can’t follow you around forever.”

Dash nodded.

“The last time Harley slept over, his dreams were so bad he sleep-barricaded the door to the spare room and made a shank out of his mattress springs. Your kid brother’s about as close to the Anti-Christ as you can get without actually having cloven feet, and he’s afraid of that thing.”

“I know, I know,” said Simon miserably.

Dash put a comforting hand on his shoulder, taking care to keep well away from the sour-faced NightMare.

“It’ll be good for him,” he said. “And also, and more importantly, it'll be good for us.”

Simon leant his forehead against the NightMare’s coal-black shoulder and sighed.

“He is right, you know,” he whispered into one madly-swivelling ear. “Lots of horses are also supernatural creatures. You’ll make new friends.”

A flicker overhead, as though for the briefest moment the stars had all simultaneously blinked out, and the empty night above them was replaced by a horse as big as the sky. The Grey Mare stared down at them, her coat dappled with starlight, her eyes great black pools that contained entire galaxies. The NightMare’s ears barely brushed the fetlocks covered in feathery moonlight. None of the humans came up past its heel. A comet with a burning red tail streaked across the vast face, and in its wake, the huge beast seemed to smile.

Simon stepped back, unclipping the bridle that straddled the gulf between the sleeping and waking worlds. The NightMare turned to look at him as the harness slipped loose and then, beneath the pale light of the celestial horse that loomed over all of them, trotted into the ghostly stables.

They watched it go, disappearing into the gloomy interior that seemed too vast for the half-seen structure, until their vision was blocked by the slow bulk of the water-horse ambling by.

“You okay?” asked Marshall.

Simon scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands and nodded.

“Okay, good,” said Dash. “Because I think your dumb anti-social horse broke my foot, and somebody needs to walk Sparky.”

Simon laughed, and together the three of them turned back for home as the pale light of dawn began to spread over the empty field.





Microwave-verse

Bonfire by froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever

Gingerbread by froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods

Leaves by froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing

Offspring by froodle, in which there are dragons

Based on Your Previous Purchases by froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations

Housework by froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon

Breakfast by froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well

Ghost in the Machine by froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound

Consequences by froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed

The Microwave by froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense

The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed

Basic Household Maintenance by froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests

Torrential by froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream

Linens by froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed

Night Music by froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor

In For The Night by froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house

Hound by froodle, in which Simon makes a friend

Errands by froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list

Waterlogged by froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall

Wildlife by froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach

Rainbow by froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley

Jackolantern by froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem

Comments

[deifire]

Oh, this is simultaneously so sweet, and creepy, and full of all these amazing little world-building details...

[froodle]

Thank you :D My hometown has a home of rest for old horses and some of them are these amazingly mellow old trammers who are SO BIG but so gentle and nice, and there's some really grumpy bitter ones who will take food off you but shy away if you try and stroke them, so this is basically my love letter to those guys.

[eviinsanemonkey.livejournal.com]

awwww this is so sweet

[froodle]

Thank you :D