ghostsmlp

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 10

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

Sunny shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Ginger and the other ghosts. After a moment, she sighed. “Well, sugarcube, we all got ourselves a thing we call a ghost power. It’s a real specific way we can interact with the livin’ world—nothin’ too fancy, just little things unique to each of us.”

She motioned toward Nooddles. “Like that one there—he can manifest tiny illusions fer the livin’.”

Ginger turned to CC. “The little things you kept seeing? That was a ghost messing with you.”

CC scoffed, throwing up his hooves. “Oh, great! I feel so much better now. Yeah, totally less creepy knowing it was a ghost and not just my brain going bad.”

Rosella giggled. “I got one too,” she chimed in. “When somepony walks through me—like her on the first day—it makes the air smell like flowers.”

Ginger blinked, then frowned. “Wait… the first day…” She replayed the memory in her head—the brief, unexpected waft of floral scent, like the garden had suddenly bloomed around her. Except now that Rosella mentioned it…

She exhaled, realization clicking into place. “That was you. Not the garden.”

Rosella beamed, nodding. “See? Told ya.”

Strider chuckled, stepping forward. “Well, reckon I should show ya mine, then.” He adjusted his hat, his chest puffing out slightly. “Y’know that noise y’all been hearin’? That’s me.”

Ginger raised a brow. “Noise?”

Strider grinned. “Lemme demonstrate.”

He cleared his throat, straightening up. “So, me an’ Flash Magnus—best buds, lemme tell ya—got into this one bar fight, right? Musta been twenty stallions against just the two of us—”

As he spoke, the air changed.

Ginger’s ears perked up as she suddenly heard something—not words, not distinct voices, but a murmur. The low, rolling hum of a busy tavern, the clinking of glasses, the muffled laughter of patrons.

CC froze, his ears twitching. He looked around, his expression shifting to something wary. “Oh, come on,” he muttered. “Not this weird stuff again.”

Ginger’s gaze snapped to him. “You can hear it?”

CC sighed, rubbing his face. “What? The voices? Yeah, I guess I’ve lost my marbles too.”

Ginger ignored his dramatics. “That’s not just in your head,” she said firmly. “That’s another ghost.”

CC looked at her, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, his expression twisted in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ginger inhaled sharply. “CC. Think about it. The weird things that happened our first day here—the flower scent, the things in the corner of your eyes, the hum of the pub—it wasn’t random. It wasn’t the house messing with us. It was them.” She gestured to the ghosts. “The ones standing right here, right now.”

She met his gaze, serious. “They’re telling me things I shouldn’t know. Things I couldn’t know. Because I wasn’t here.” Her eyes narrowed. “You were.”

CC opened his mouth, hesitating. He glanced at the room, as if seeing it differently now. His ears flattened. “Wait, hold on—”

Ginger cut him off. “How else would I know you cried yourself to sleep?”

CC went stiff.

Ginger smirked and shot a look toward Cloudmist. “And, more importantly—how else would I know you cried enough for even the snobby white ghost to notice? You know, the one so stuck up in his royal butt?”

Cloudmist gasped, clearly offended. “Excuse you?!”

But before he could protest, a chorus of barely suppressed giggles came from the other ghosts.

Cloudmist scowled, puffing out his chest. “Oh, honestly, you lot—”

But the snickers only grew, and he huffed, flicking his mane. Begrudgingly, he let the insult slide.

Because, well. He did deserve that jab.

CC’s uncertainty was written all over his face. His ears flicked back, his brow furrowed, and his tail gave a restless flick. Ginger stepped closer, her voice softer but firm. “Look, this is new for me too, alright? But seriously, how would I even come up with something like this?”

She turned toward the ghosts. “Alright, give me more examples. Something.”

The ghosts exchanged wary glances. None of them seemed eager to spill more information—probably to avoid incriminating themselves further.

Eventually, Sunny sighed. “Well… I can push things. If I really focus on it.”

Ginger nodded, then looked at Ash—the tiny foal-like ghost. “And what about you?”

Sunny answered for him. “Ash can be seen and heard by livin’ animals. Kinda like how you can see us.”

Ginger hummed in thought. “Alright. That makes five of you. But there’s...seven of you total, right? So what about the other two?”

Sunny hesitated, but then sighed again. “Willow died high as a kite, so if ya walk through ‘im, you get stoned for a bit.”

Ginger blinked. “Wait—what?”

Strider snickered. “It’s hilarious when we tried it on a few livin’ folks to scare ‘em out.”

Ginger groaned, rubbing her temples. “Of course you did. That explains so much.”

CC, still clueless to the ghostly conversation, huffed impatiently. “Okay, what now? What are they saying?”

Ginger shot him a look. “The ghosts tried to scare us away.”

CC snorted. “Well, duh. They’re ghosts. That’s what they do.”

The ghosts collectively rolled their eyes.

“We ain’t just spooky ghosts that go boo,” Sunny said, crossing her hooves. “We’re just like the livin’—only, y’know. Dead. And invisible. And with freaky spooky powers.”

She softened slightly. “We were scared, alright? I thought y’all were gonna tear this place down. After everything I did to protect it fer my family.”

Ginger listened, piecing everything together.

CC, still playing catch-up, frowned at her. “What now? What are they telling you?”

Ginger sighed, looking at him seriously. “They’re not just ghosts. They tried to scare us out, yeah, but they’re more than that. They were afraid we’d do something to their home.”

Before CC could respond, Cloudmist scoffed dramatically. “Actually, correction, it was only Sunny’s home. The rest of us just happened to die somewhere on the land.” He flicked his mane, then deadpanned. “And honestly, I’d rather be dead than live here—” He paused. His ears twitched. “...Oh. Wait. Yeah. I see the irony now.”

Ginger exhaled, shaking her head. “Well… sorry, but now it’s our home.”

CC chuckled, finally starting to relax a bit. “So, it’s our home… and the ghost of the white lady’s home.”

Ginger turned to him, confused. “Wait—what did you just say?”

CC shrugged. “That’s why I didn’t wanna go upstairs. There was a ghost—a tall white unicorn mare—just moping around up there.”

Ginger’s expression shifted. She turned back to the ghosts, about to ask them what that was about—

Then she saw it.

Cloudmist—normally so pristine with his snobby posture and perfect mane—had gone bright red.

And then, right before her eyes, his whole form flickered. His deep blue and silver hues drained away, replaced with a nearly transparent shade of pale gray and white.

CC screamed. And then bolted out of the room.

Ginger, meanwhile, just stared. And then—she laughed.

“Oh my gods—” She clutched her stomach. “Cloudmist—is this your ghost power?! You go visible when you’re embarrassed?!”

Cloudmist—still a washed-out, mortified shade of himself—sputtered, but no words came out.

The other ghosts, at first in shock, burst out laughing.

Strider wiped a ghostly tear from his eye. “Yep. That’d be it.” He grinned. “And that means—” He turned to Ginger with a smirk. “The moping white lady ghost was Cloudmist all along.”

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 9

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

Sunny shifted uneasily on her hooves. She weren’t no liar, but she also weren’t no storyteller, neither. And she sure as heck weren’t expectin’ to be called on to explain this whole mess to the poor mare she nearly got killed.

So, with no other choice, she answered honestly, though a bit hesitant:

“Well, sugarcube, we ain’t no hallucinations. We’re ghosts.”

She braced herself, expecting Ginger to go runnin’ for the hills—or at the very least, start screamin’ again.

But Ginger just let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing her temples like she was fightin’ off the worst headache of her life.

“Right,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “Okay. Sure. Ghosts.”

Then she lifted her head, eyes sharp and assessing.

“I can’t be sure yet,” she said, voice steadier now, almost businesslike. “So. Prove it.”

Cloudmist scoffed, tossing his perfectly kept mane over one shoulder with a dramatic flick of his head.

“Oh, darling,” he said, voice dripping with posh irritation, “how exactly do you expect us to do that? We are ethereal beings, shackled to this miserable little farmhouse like some tragic Gothic horror novel.” He sighed dramatically, looking to the ceiling. “Honestly, the indignity of it all.”

Ginger ignored his theatrics, her mind already working.

Then she spotted CC returning with the wet towel in his hooves, concern clear on his face. An idea clicked.

She turned back to the ghosts. “Are you here all the time?”

Cloudmist let out a rich, posh chuckle, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, yes. Such is our eternal torment. A fate I never would have imagined for myself, but alas, here we are.”

He shot Ginger a sharp look. “It was perfectly fine until you and your boytoy moved in.”

CC, hearing that, frowned as he stepped closer. “Ging… Who are you talking to?”

Ginger ignored him, keeping her focus on the ghosts. “Alright. Tell me something specific that happened in the last two weeks. Something I wouldn’t know.”

Sunny tapped her chin, then glanced at Cloudmist. “Well, I weren’t ‘round much, but…” She squinted, then gave Ginger a sharp look. “Short feller there done insulted my kitchen.”

Ginger raised a brow. “How?”

“Said it looked like a—whatcha call it? A ‘granny kitchen’.”

Ginger’s entire expression shifted.

She turned immediately to CC.

“Did you say the kitchen looks like a granny’s kitchen?”

CC blinked. “Uh… yeah? You know I’m not into the whole farm-style thing.” He shrugged. “Why?”

Then he frowned, concern creeping into his voice. “And—seriously—who are you talking to? What’s going on?”

Ginger inhaled deeply.

Then she met his eyes and said, as calmly as she could:

“I’m talking to ghosts.”

CC froze.

Then, after a brief silence, he barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Ghosts? Ginger, come on.” He grinned. “You—Miss ‘I Don’t Believe in Your Scary Stories’—are telling me there are ghosts here?”

His amusement was clear.

Ginger just stared at him.

And behind her, Cloudmist grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Ohhh, this is going to be fun.”

The other ghosts drifted into the room, their curiosity evident on their spectral faces. Ginger took them in but held her ground, unwilling to let the growing crowd rattle her.

She turned back to CC, her voice steady. “For now, just trust me on this. We can talk about the details later.”

CC hesitated, watching her closely. Sure, maybe she’d hit her head just hard enough to go coocoo, but arguing about it wasn’t going to help anything. He sighed and nodded, deciding to pick his battles. “Alright, babe.”

Ginger turned her attention back to Sunny and Cloudmist. “Tell me what’s been happening the last two weeks.”

Cloudmist sniffed, lifting his chin. “Oh, I can tell you, darling. Your little boytoy here has been spending his nights pathetically sobbing himself to sleep—oh, it was tragic.”

Before Ginger could react, whack.

Cloudmist stumbled, his elegant poise faltering as Sunny kicked his leg with a disapproving frown. Ginger followed her gaze as she turned to the rest of the group.

Now that she had a moment, Ginger properly observed the other ghosts. The tall, intimidating stallion. The tiny, foal-like figure. Her stomach clenched when her eyes landed on the dark blue pegasus with a fiery red mane—because something was sticking out of him. A jagged, splintered piece of wood.

She swallowed hard but refused to let herself react. She was too close to her dream farm to lose her mind just because it came with a few squatters.

The ghosts exchanged glances before Strider stepped forward. “Yer stallion spent the whole day fixin’ up the main bathroom,” he drawled. “The one on this floor. Lost his damn mind when a whole swarm of silverfish came pourin’ outta the shower drain.”

Ginger snorted, then turned to CC. “You cleaned and fixed the main bathroom?”

CC shrugged. “Yeah, of course. I was too freaked out to go upstairs.”

Ginger grinned. “And you got scared by the silverfish?”

CC’s ears pinned back slightly, his cheeks darkening. “I hate tiny crawlies, okay?”

Rosella’s voice, soft but clear, cut through the air. “I saw him yelling at the old pipes.”

Ginger turned back to CC, raising a brow. “And why, exactly, were you yelling at pipes?”

CC groaned. “Because they were acting up! It’s an old house.”

Ginger turned back to the ghosts, waiting.

Nooddles, practically vibrating in place, piped up. “Oh! I played with him sometimes.”

Every other ghost immediately glared at him.

Nooddles blinked innocently. “What? I was bored.”

Ginger narrowed her eyes. “Played with him how?”

Nooddles grinned. “I made little illusions! Just stuff on the edge of his vision, little flickers of movement—nothing big. Just enough to mess with him.”

Ginger turned to Cloudmist, her frown deepening. “Didn’t you say you can’t interact with the living world?”

Cloudmist scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I can’t. He can.” He gestured toward Nooddles with clear distaste. “Every ghost has a unique way of affecting the world of the living.”

Ginger turned to Sunny. “That true?”

Sunny nodded. “Yep. Ain’t always fair, but that’s how it is.” She shrugged. “It’s real specific.”

Ginger frowned. “What do you mean?”

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 8

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

Absolute hell broke loose.

The ghosts—who, up until now, had been a united front in their collective guilt—scattered.

Nooddles bounced around the room like a foal on a sugar high.

Willow, in full flight mode, bolted straight through the nearest wall—nearly trampling poor tiny Ash in the process.

Strider, entirely unbothered, continued praising the gods, loudly declaring that this was a blessing and that, obviously, since Ginger could see him, they were now halfway dating.

Rosella, in full panic mode, kicked Cloudmist’s unconscious form and yelled, “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE, YOU PROMISED! YOU’RE MY RIDE OR DIE, YOU COWARD!!!”

Sunny?

Sunny just stared at Ginger. Wide-eyed. Frozen. Silent.

And Ginger?

She stood there, her mind a mess of static, watching this chaotic supernatural meltdown unfold.

Then—

A hoof on her shoulder.

“Ging?”

She turned, finding CC standing next to her, his expression concerned. “What’s happening?” he asked.

Ginger tried to answer—really, she did. But all that came out was a stuttering, barely-coherent mess of syllables.

CC frowned. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I think you should probably lie down. You’ve been through a lot, and… you’re probably just having some hallucinations from all the meds.”

Ginger, still dazed, let him gently lead her toward the living room.

At the back of the room, an old mattress had been set up. CC gestured to it.

“I, uh… I moved in here for now,” he admitted. “Too scared to sleep in one of the bedrooms yet.”

That caught Ginger’s attention. “Why?” she mumbled.

CC hesitated. Then, shaking his head, he sighed. “I’ll get you some water,” he said, stepping toward the kitchen. “Just… make yourself comfortable.”

Ginger sat down, trying to process anything through the fog in her brain.

The ghosts?

They watched.

Ginger pointedly avoided looking toward the front door.

She knew what stood there. She knew what she’d see if she let herself look.

So she didn’t.

Instead, she focused on the room around her.

CC had really tried his best.

The space was clean—as much as it could be. Some furniture had been pushed aside to make room for the mattress, which sat tucked into the back of the room, layered with their many blankets. It wasn’t fancy, but it was home.

It was summer, so the warm air made the lack of proper heating manageable.

Near the mattress, several boxes sat stacked—remnants of their old place, waiting to be unpacked.

And then, there was the picture frame.

It lay on the floor beside the mattress. A simple wooden frame, slightly scuffed at the corners, holding a photo of the two of them.

CC had placed it there.

He’d missed her.

Ginger swallowed against the lump in her throat and laid down, gazing at the photo. Just looking at it—at them—soothed her.

A few moments later, CC returned, balancing a cup of water carefully between his hooves.

Ginger sat up, taking it from him and sipping gratefully. As she drank, CC sat beside her, his hoof coming up to gently rub circles into her back.

It helped. He helped.

She exhaled softly, placing the cup aside, and whispered, “I should’ve expected this… I did hit my head. Twice.”

CC hummed. “Yeah, and that means you need to rest.”

Ginger nodded. She laid back down, and CC wasted no time tucking the blankets around her.

Just as he finished, she hesitated, then murmured, “Can you lay down too? …I missed you.”

CC’s eyes softened. Without hesitation, he settled onto his back beside her.

Ginger wasted no time snuggling into his warmth, resting her head against his fluffy chest.

Safe. Secure. Home.

His steady heartbeat, the rise and fall of his breathing, the comforting warmth of his body—

—it all carried her easily into sleep.

The house was finally quiet.

The ghosts—after their initial chaos—had calmed down.

Slowly, one by one, their heads phased through the wall, peeking into the living room.

They found the pair curled up on the mattress, sleeping peacefully.

For a moment, they just watched.

Nooddles was the first to whisper, “Maybe it was a one-time fluke…” His voice was hopeful, almost pleading. “She’s not reacting now.”

Ash—normally so quiet he was barely noticed—tilted his head up at Nooddles and simply said, “They’re asleep.”

Nooddles chuckled nervously. “Right, right… that makes sense.” He awkwardly shuffled backward.

Rosella, meanwhile, had noticed someone was missing. Her ears flicked, and she glanced around.

“Where’s Willow?” she murmured, before trotting off to find him.

Cloudmist, however, was less concerned. Instead, he stepped toward the wall, preparing to phase through—

—only for Strider’s wing to snap out in front of him.

Cloudmist blinked, looking up at him in mild offense.

Strider, rather than explaining, flicked his gaze toward Sunny.

Cloudmist followed his look, seeing the pale mare watching the sleeping pair.

Then, after a pause, she nodded.

The message was clear.

Cloudmist scowled but relented, stepping back.

Sunny exhaled softly, then stepped forward.

Carefully. Gently.

For the first time, she really looked at them.

She saw the mare—peaceful, unaware, fragile in sleep. And, for the first time, she truly felt the weight of what she had done.

This wasn’t some random living intruder.

She was family.

One of her descendants.

And family was everything.

Sunny slowly lowered herself onto the floor—not fully resting her head, just watching quietly.

Cloudmist watched all of this unfold, unimpressed.

He still wasn’t sold on the short, chubby stallion.

And, with Strider distracted, he saw his chance.

With a sharp turn, he marched forward, past Sunny—loudly announcing:

“She’s clearly fine, so I have questions for her—”

Ginger’s eyes snapped open.

The first thing she saw was a completely unfamiliar stallion looming in her space.

She shrieked.

CC, startled awake, immediately sat bolt upright.

“What?! What is it?!” he blurted.

Cloudmist stared at Ginger, offended rather than shocked, as she pointed directly at him.

CC, still half-asleep, looked around frantically. “What?! What do you see?!”

Ginger didn’t look away from Cloudmist. “I see a tall white mare.”

Cloudmist scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I am, in fact, a handsome stallion.”

Ginger flinched at his voice again, but this time, she didn’t freak out. Instead, she slowly repeated, “A…stallion.”

CC exhaled, trying to steady himself. “Ginger, there’s nobody here.” He gently pushed at her shoulder, trying to ease her back down. “You should rest—”

But Ginger wasn’t intrigued by that idea.

Cloudmist, completely unbothered, smirked and said, “Tell that ugly boytoy of yours that I am, in fact, handsome.”

Something in Ginger’s mind snapped.

Her vision went red.

With a burst of energy, she shot up onto her hooves, glowering at him.

“Say that to my face.”

CC, still processing, could only stare as his very real, very tired fiancée prepared to throw hooves at somepony who wasn’t there.

Cloudmist, stunned by her sudden aggression, instinctively took a step back, falling silent.

Before things could escalate, Sunny stood up and stepped between them, her expression disapproving.

“That,” she said firmly, “wasn’t very nice.”

Ginger’s rage flickered—for the first time, her eyes softened.

She looked at Sunny with awe.

But before she could say anything, CC was already beside her, worriedly tugging at her hoof.

“Ging, please—you need to lie down. You’re—seeing things.”

Ginger turned to him, still breathless. “You really don’t see them?”

CC sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Ginger, I swear—there’s no one else here. It’s just us.”

Ginger hesitated, then slowly sat back down on the mattress, her gaze never leaving Cloudmist and Sunny, who were still watching her in silent curiosity.

CC exhaled in relief. “Okay. Just stay here. I’ll grab a wet cloth for your head.”

She nodded absently, waiting for the sound of his hooves to fade down the hall.

Then, once she was sure he was out of earshot, she whipped her head back toward the ghosts and asked, bluntly:

“…Are you hallucinations?”

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 7

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

The atmosphere in the manor had been heavy for the past two weeks.

Sunny had spent most of that time sulking in silence, blaming herself for everything. The others gave her space—most of them unsure of what to say—but Ash lingered nearby, her quiet shadow.

Cloudmist, normally sharp-tongued and full of disdain, had noticeably fewer barbs to throw. He still carried himself with an air of superiority, but it was subdued, his usual remarks held back by unease.

Strider, ever the flirt, had lamented their loss in his own way. "Such a hot chick, gone just like that," he had sighed dramatically, sprawled over the old chaise lounge. But even his usual bravado had lacked its usual flair.

Nooddles, the ever-bouncing ball of energy, had become eerily quiet. His cheery antics had been replaced with a reserved, almost pensive demeanor. No sudden illusions, no random outbursts—just a solemn, distant look in his eyes.

Rosella had also withdrawn, speaking less than usual, though her silence was mostly out of necessity. Every so often, Willow would forget what had happened, forcing her to explain it all over again.

But aside from those brief moments, none of them had spoken much. They had all been trapped in the same weighty guilt, suffocating in it.

It was Cloudmist who finally shattered the silence.

The ghosts were scattered throughout the dusty living room, each lost in their own thoughts when he spoke up.

“So,” he said, glancing at the others, “do you think that short, stubby stallion is gone for good now?”

There was a moment of stillness—just long enough for the words to sink in.

Then, Sunny erupted into fresh sobs, her whole body trembling. Ash, ever the silent observer, shifted closer to her, pressing against her side in quiet comfort.

Rosella shot Cloudmist a murderous glare. “Oh, great,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Now I get to explain everything to Willow again.”

Willow, as expected, blinked in confusion. “Huh? What happened?”

Rosella groaned.

Nooddles let out a long, tired sigh. “Y’know…” he mumbled, rubbing his face, “I actually liked the little guy.”

Strider, watching the whole scene unfold, finally took it upon himself to play damage control. “Cloudmist,” he snapped, “really?”

Cloudmist scoffed, shifting uncomfortably under the combined weight of everyone’s stares. “Oh, come on,” he said, “it’s not my fault the living mare got spooked by Ash, stumbled through Willow, and tripped over the vase that Sunny broke.”

Sunny wailed harder.

The rest of the ghosts immediately turned on Cloudmist.

“Shut. Up.”

Cloudmist stiffened at the chorus of sharp voices.

“Blaming isn’t gonna undo anything,” Rosella snapped.

Strider jabbed a hoof in his direction. “Yeah, why don’t you shove all that self-righteous nonsense right up your—”

“Wait, wait,” Willow interrupted, holding up a hoof. “So… no police?”

Rosella groaned again, muttering under her breath, “We’re dead, Willow.”

Willow blinked. “Oh. Right.”

And just like that, silence fell over the group once more.

Cloudmist was ready to argue—primed to throw an insult, probably at Strider, just to have some social interaction. But before he could get a word out, a sound snapped all of them to attention.

Keys. Rustling in the door.

The group went still.

Cloudmist rolled his eyes, already annoyed at whoever was disturbing their wallowing. But Strider, now the de-facto leader of their miserable little band, shot him a look. “Shove it,” he muttered before stepping forward.

The others followed, gathering near the entryway.

The door creaked open.

And to their shock, it wasn’t just the short, chubby stallion from before—it was her.

The poor living mare they had almost killed two weeks ago.

Silence.

Not a single ghost said a word.

Ginger turned her head slightly, looking over the group of spectral horses. Then, she glanced at CC.

“You didn’t tell me you invited the neighbors,” she said casually.

CC frowned. “I didn’t invite anyone,” he said. “The locals won’t step hoof on this land.”

That made Ginger pause. Slowly, she looked back at the ghosts, her gaze shifting between them.

Strider was the first to react, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well,” he drawled, turning to the group. “Looks like we didn’t kill the pretty mare after all.”

Ginger frowned, confused. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

CC furrowed his brows. “Who are you talking to?”

Silence.

The ghosts exchanged looks, just as confused as Ginger.

Then—

“Wait,” Willow spoke up, narrowing his eyes. “Are you the police?”

Ginger blinked. “No, I’m not the police. What are you talking about?”

CC’s frown deepened. “No, seriously, Ginger—who are you talking to? It’s just us here.”

Ginger gave him a weird look. “I’m talking to the group of horses standing right there.” She lifted a hoof and pointed straight at them.

The ghosts froze.

For a long second, no one moved.

Then—

They all instinctively shifted, sidestepping away from her hoof as if it would burn them.

Ginger, watching them all physically react, squinted at them suspiciously and moved her hoof again—tracking them as they shuffled.

Rosella gasped.

Sunny sniffled.

Nooddles exploded with energy, bouncing in place. “SHE CAN SEE US!!!” he shrieked.

Strider, ever dramatic, threw his head back in mock prayer. “Thank the gods!”

Cloudmist fainted.

And Willow—utterly baffled by everything happening—threw his hooves in the air and yelled, “FINE, YOU GOT US! WE SURRENDER!!!”

Ginger, absolutely spooked by all of this, stumbled back a few steps, her eyes wide as she stared at the scene in front of her.

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 6

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

The moment Ginger’s body passed through Willow, a sharp, electric pain shot through him. He yelped, panic flashing across his features as he leapt forward in an attempt to escape the sensation.

Unfortunately, he landed directly on Sunny.

“What the—?!” Sunny grunted as Willow’s massive form collided with her, knocking her off balance.

Rosella, who had been standing just a little too close, tried to step back—only for Willow’s flailing front limb to hook around her and send her toppling into the mess as well.

Strider and Cloudmist, who had only just returned, stopped in their tracks to witness the chaotic pile of ghosts before them.

Cloudmist let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hoof down his face. “I knew leaving you all alone was a mistake.”

Meanwhile, CC had bolted down the stairs after Ginger’s fall.

“Ginger!” he called, dropping to her side.

Ginger groaned, already pushing herself upright. She wasn’t hurt—at least, not badly—but something was… off.

Without her knowledge, she had passed through Willow, and the ghost’s power had immediately taken effect. A hazy, blissful daze settled over her features, her pupils unfocused as she swayed slightly.

CC mistook the reaction entirely, assuming she had hit her head.

“Hey, hey, stay down a sec,” he urged, pressing a hoof gently to her shoulder. “I need to check—”

But Ginger was already moving. Or… attempting to. She scrambled onto her hooves with all the coordination of a drunk baby giraffe, her front limbs wobbly and uncooperative.

Sunny, who had just untangled herself from the mess, barely had time to react before seeing Ginger lurching wildly.

“Oh, for gods’ sake—” Instinctively, she rushed forward, trying to stop the inevitable. Of course, she couldn't physically do anything, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

In the process, she bumped against the dresser—

—knocking the vase loose.

The heavy ceramic wobbled, teetered—

—and then crashed to the floor, shattering into jagged shards.

And Ginger, still stumbling like on ice, stepped right onto it. Her hoof slipped.

She flailed—hind legs scrambling—

And then, with a sharp yelp, she tumbled down the second, bigger flight of stairs.

CC raced down the stairs, his hooves barely touching the steps as he skidded to Ginger’s side.

“Ginger?” His voice was tight with panic as he knelt beside her.

She barely stirred. Her eyes fluttered open just a crack, dazed and unfocused.

Above them, a crowd of ghostly faces peered down from the top of the stairs, their expressions ranging from horror to guilt.

Sunny had a hoof over her mouth. Rosella’s ears were flattened, eyes wide with shock. Willow—still recovering from his own panic—looked completely lost. Even Strider and Cloudmist, usually so composed, were stiff with silent dread.

They had only wanted to spook the living—not this.

Ginger let out a small, pained breath. The world around her spun, a mess of swirling colors and aching limbs. Her body felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish.

Through the blur, she saw CC’s face—the only thing clear enough to recognize.

Everything else was a shapeless haze… except…

At the top of the stairs.

Dark silhouettes.

Shadowy figures loomed there, just barely distinct from the swirling void of her unfocused vision.

Something inside her stirred—an instinct, a deep knowing that told her these figures were important. She wanted to focus, to see them, to understand.

But before her mind could catch up—

—darkness swallowed her whole.

Two weeks and one coma later…

Ginger stepped out of the Ponyville hospital, her legs still shaky from disuse. The cool afternoon air hit her face, crisp and refreshing after being cooped up in a sterile room for far too long.

CC was right beside her, as he had been since she woke up. His steady presence grounded her, his body close enough to catch her if she stumbled.

She assumed they were heading back to their flat in Ponyville, where she could finally rest somewhere that didn’t smell like antiseptic. But as they walked, CC didn’t take the familiar route home.

Instead, he led her toward the train station.

Ginger frowned. “Uh… CC?”

He hummed in response, glancing at her briefly.

“Where exactly are we going?”

He exhaled, a small, almost nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Look, Ging… when you had your accident and the doctors told me you were in a coma, all I could do was wait. I felt… helpless. And the more I sat there, the more I realized something.”

Ginger tilted her head, listening.

“I was being a bum about the farm.”

Her breath hitched slightly.

“I get it now,” CC continued. “Why you fought so hard to keep it. Because trying to start a farm from nothing? It’s impossible. But keeping one that already exists? That’s different. And I know—" he huffed a soft laugh, “—I know how much that place means to you. You loved it before we even got together. It was part of what made me fall for you in the first place.”

Ginger’s eyes widened.

CC rubbed the back of his neck. “So, while you were out, I liquidated everything we didn’t need into cash and started working. I couldn’t do much at first—not when I was spending most of my time by your bedside—but I did what I could.”

Ginger stared at him, overwhelmed.

“I didn’t know what I was doing half the time,” CC admitted, chuckling, “but I just wanted it to be good enough for when you came home.”

Ginger swallowed thickly, her heart swelling. “CC… you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “But I had a lot of time to think. If I really hated the idea, I would’ve dipped while you were out. But I didn’t. And I won’t.”

He took her hoof in his, squeezing lightly.

“If you’re in, Ging… then I’m in, too.”

She could’ve melted right then and there.

Ginger surged forward, pressing a deep, grateful kiss to his lips. “I was born ready.”

CC grinned.

And together, they boarded the train.

The journey to Hollowbrook Hamlet was quiet, the rhythmic chug of the train soothing as Ginger leaned against CC’s side.

Outside the window, the landscape shifted—verdant meadows giving way to rolling hills, then dense forests that stretched toward the horizon.

As the train pulled into the station, Ginger stepped off with a deep breath, inhaling the crisp countryside air.

The moment they set hoof on Hollowbrook soil, she felt watched.

Eyes flickered toward them from the shadowed corners of the station. Locals, clad in well-worn cloaks and simple attire, whispered among themselves, their gazes lingering a moment too long.

But Ginger didn’t care.

She had only one destination in mind.

Home.

With her amazing fiancé by her side.

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 5

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

CC squinted into the dim hallway, his gaze catching on a narrow staircase tucked into the far end. It was old, steep, and covered in dust, leading upward into shadows. His stomach twisted.

“Ginger,” he called softly, nudging her side.

She turned, following his gaze. “That must lead to the attic,” she murmured.

CC swallowed. “You think it’s safe?”

Ginger shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

They approached cautiously, testing the first steps with careful hooves. The wood groaned under their weight, but it held—for now. Moving slowly, they began their ascent.

Rosella moved effortlessly through the house, her hooves making no sound as she passed through old walls like mist. The place was falling apart—faded wallpaper curled at the edges, and cobwebs clung to the ceiling beams like stubborn ghosts of their own. But she wasn’t here to admire the decor.

She stepped into what used to be a sitting room, her gaze landing on a massive, sprawled-out figure on the floor.

Willow.

The draft horse took up nearly the entire worn-out floor mattress, his oversized body stretched out with his legs kicked lazily to one side. His coat—mostly white—was marked by large, uneven patches of deep brown, like ink stains bleeding into paper. His thick mane, a wild mix of warm light brown, red, amber yellow, and muted green, had been twisted into loose dreadlocks, some strands lazily draping over his face.

He looked like something that had crawled out of an old swamp. A very high, very peaceful swamp.

Willow was dead to the world—well, deader than usual. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, a leftover habit from life. His expression was slack, completely at ease, his mouth slightly parted as if he had fallen asleep mid-thought.

Rosella leaned down and gave his shoulder a firm nudge. “Hey, wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Nothing.

She frowned and shoved harder. “Willow.”

Still nothing.

She groaned and finally stomped a hoof on his side.

“Mmm—huh? Wha’?” Willow’s pink eyes cracked open, dazed and unfocused. He blinked sluggishly up at her, as if trying to remember who she was. “Oh. S’you.”

Rosella rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s me. And we’ve got company.” She waved a hoof vaguely. “A couple of breathers poking around.”

Willow blinked again, still processing. “Company…? Ohhh. Right, right.” He stretched, his joints giving phantom pops, then scratched at his dreadlocks. “That’s cool, I guess. Long as they ain’t here t’ steal my mattress.”

Rosella smirked. “I think they have bigger concerns than taking your nasty mattress, Willow.”

Willow huffed. “Ain’t nasty. Just… well-loved.”

Rosella didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she crossed her hooves. “C’mon, Cloudmist’s having one of his fits.”

Willow’s ears flicked lazily. “Of course he is,” he mumbled, dragging himself to his hooves. He swayed slightly before righting himself, his massive frame towering over Rosella.

Yawning, he muttered, “Aight. Lead the way.”

And with that, he followed her through the walls, blinking sleepily, already halfway forgetting why he was even up.

When they reached the others, Sunny was still seething, hovering near Nooddles, who barely paid attention to her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the staircase, ears flicking as he overheard Ginger and CC’s slow steps.

Rosella barely had time to say something to Sunny before Nooddles suddenly gasped, grinning wide.

“They’re heading to the attic!” he exclaimed. And with that, he bolted, zipping through the ceiling in a blur of boundless energy.

In the attic, Ash waited, curled in a darkened corner. The space was cramped, heavy with dust and the scent of aged wood. The only company he had was the rustling and occasional high-pitched squeaks of the bats clustered along the rafters.

Then, without warning, Nooddles burst through the attic floor, his energy crackling like a live wire. He barely stopped himself from slamming into Ash, hovering a little too close for comfort.

“They’re coming up!” Nooddles announced breathlessly.

Ash tilted his head, unimpressed. “Now?”

“Yes now!”

Ash didn't need to be told twice. His hollow gaze flickered toward the colony of bats above, their small, beady eyes glinting in the low light. Instead of concentrating or reaching out with any kind of careful ghostly energy, he simply did what any living pony might do in this situation—

He lunged forward and shouted.

“BOO.”

The effect was immediate. The bats shrieked in alarm, their tiny claws scraping against the wooden beams as a ripple of movement tore through the colony. In a blink, the attic erupted into a storm of flapping wings and panicked squeals.

Chaos.

Ash simply sat back, watching, as the bats poured down toward the approaching intruders.

The moment Ginger stepped into the attic, she felt the rush of air—then the sudden, deafening whoosh of wings.

The bats poured down like a living shadow, flooding past them in a panicked frenzy. CC ducked, shrinking into himself, but Ginger—taller, more exposed—was not as lucky.

A wing clipped her ear. Another brushed against her mane. She yelped, swatting blindly, but the combination of the chaos and the unstable stairs was too much.

She lost her footing.

The world spun—her stomach lurched—and suddenly, she was falling.

She tumbled backward, the wooden steps slamming into her spine as she rolled down. But before she even hit the bottom—She passed right through something.

Or rather… someone.

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 4

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

Ginger stepped cautiously onto the second floor, her gaze drifting across the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick with dust and the scent of aged wood. The floorboards groaned under her hooves, as if protesting the intrusion. Room after room stretched before her, each door slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of a forgotten past.

So many rooms. So many places to explore.

Unbeknownst to her, spectral eyes followed her every step, watching, waiting, and planning their next move.

Cloudmist, ever the strategist, stood among his ghostly companions, his sharp gaze fixed on the intruders. He cast a glance at Ash—the smallest among them—and gave a firm nod. "Get into position."

Ash, with his characteristic limp, nodded in return and silently vanished into the attic, his presence fading like a shadow melting into the dark.

Meanwhile, Sunny was growing more agitated by the second. She paced in sharp, restless strides, her tail flicking with irritation. "I knew it," she seethed. "They're already talkin' about changin' my home. My home! They ain't even been here a full hour!"

Strider, ever the amused observer, leaned lazily against a rickety wooden post. "You gonna pull your trick too?" he asked, casting a knowing smirk at Cloudmist.

Cloudmist's ear twitched. "Perhaps later," he muttered, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. "Evening is a better time for such theatrics." He cleared his throat, regaining composure. "For now, continue with your plan—help Nooddles. He's working on something for that trembling little earth pony."

At the mention of his name, Nooddles perked up. He was already deep in concentration, his magic weaving barely perceptible illusions at the edges of CC's vision. Faint movements in the corners, the kind that made the shadows feel too alive. Just enough to make him doubt. Just enough to make his breath hitch.

It was working.

CC's ears twitched at every imagined whisper. His muscles tensed, his breathing quickened—

Then, warmth—soft and real.

Periwinkle-coated forelegs wrapped around him, the scent of orange curls filling his senses. Ginger's embrace anchored him like a lifeline.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice steady and soothing. "There's no one here but us. Everything will be just fine."

CC let out a shaky breath and nodded. He didn't trust this house, but he trusted her.

Ginger sighed, her gaze drifting over the faded wallpaper and the dust-laden furniture covered in old sheets. "This house is really something," she admitted. "But... maybe you're right, CC. Maybe we should take it down and build something new."

She hesitated, eyes tracing the wooden beams, the old chandeliers still hanging despite time's wear. "I'll miss it," she murmured. "But if it makes you feel safer, I'll do it."

A beat of silence. Then—Sunny snapped.

"Oh, that's it!" She whirled on her hooves, wings flaring. "I don't care what we do, I'm makin' 'em leave."

Strider's smirk deepened, enjoying the show. "Bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Cloudmist, however, was far less amused. His ears flattened as he turned sharply. "Where in Equestria is Willow?"

Rosella perked up. "Oh! He's probably still sleeping."

Cloudmist rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. That colt would sleep through an earthquake."

Strider chuckled. "Unlike you, huh? What's wrong, Cloudy? Feeling a little fragile today?"

Cloudmist stiffened, his pride taking the hit. "I don't have time for this," he huffed, turning on his heel and storming off, his tail flicking sharply behind him.

Rosella giggled. "That was too easy."

Sunny, still fuming, barely registered the exchange. "I swear, if they so much as touch my walls—"

Strider waved a hoof lazily. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. Anyway, Rosella, go fetch Sleeping Beauty. Someone needs to tell him what's going on."

Rosella nodded, trotting off in search of Willow.

Strider then turned to Nooddles, who was still fine-tuning his illusions. "You keep watch on the breathers," he ordered. "When they head for the attic, you notify Ash."

Nooddles saluted playfully. "Aye aye, captain!"

Strider paused for a moment, glancing down the hall where Cloudmist had vanished. His smirk widened. Oh, this will be fun.

"Actually," he mused, turning back to Nooddles and Sunny, "I think I'll go have a little chat with our dear tactician. See if I can nudge him into putting on a show for our guests."

Sunny scoffed. "Ugh. Why are we even humoring them?"

"Because it's more fun this way," Strider replied smoothly, already floating backward. "And because, like it or not, they're here. Might as well make their stay... memorable."

He gave a final glance toward Ginger and CC, still moving cautiously from room to room, then flashed a grin at Nooddles. "Keep 'em entertained while I'm gone."

Nooddles snickered. "Oh, don't you worry about that."

And with that, Strider disappeared down the corridor in pursuit of Cloudmist, leaving only Sunny and Nooddles behind.

The living continued their slow exploration, stepping into each room one by one. The wooden floor groaned beneath them, dust swirling in their wake. CC hesitated at every threshold, his ears flicking at the subtlest of noises, the faintest of shadows.

Nooddles hovered idly near the ceiling, watching with barely concealed amusement. Every now and then, he weaved a subtle illusion—just a trick of the light, a flicker at the edge of CC's vision, something barely there.

It was working.

Sunny, however, was less impressed. "This is pointless," she muttered. "They're just stomping around, messin' with my house. We should be doing something."

Nooddles grinned. "We are."

And with that, the ghostly group scattered—each moving into place.

The stage was set.

And the haunting had only just begun.

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 3

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

CC took a deep breath, surveying the land with a critical eye. The overgrown fields stretched far and wide, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, and despite the years of neglect, the soil still looked rich and fertile. Yeah, the land's nice, he admitted to himself, but these buildings...

His nose wrinkled in distaste as he glanced at the old farmhouse and its smaller outbuildings, all worn down by time.

"This place has potential," he mused aloud, kicking at a loose board on the front porch. "But these old houses are a lost cause. Maybe we just tear them down and build something new."

His voice carried easily in the stillness. Ginger, already bounding toward the front door, was too far away to hear.

But the ghosts had heard him. Loud and clear.

Sunny's expression darkened instantly, her sturdy frame tensing as though she'd been physically struck. Her ears flattened against her head, her broad chest heaving with indignation. How dare he. This was her farm. Her home. She had been born here, had worked these fields, had seen generations come and go. And now this fancy little city unicorn waltzed in, acting like it was nothing? Like her home was just some scrap to be tossed aside?

She stepped forward, nostrils flaring, hooves stamping against the floorboards that no longer carried her weight.

"Now hold on just a damn minute, ya lil'—"

But CC didn't even blink. He couldn't hear her.

Sunny's scowl deepened. Worthless... all for nothing...

Behind her, Cloudmist smirked, practically radiating satisfaction. His violet eyes gleamed with amusement, his black-and-streaked mane shimmering as he tilted his head. This was exactly what he wanted.

"See? This is precisely why we must start haunting them immediately," he purred, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his pristine coat. "If we don't, they'll actually think they can stay." He sneered at CC's back. "Honestly, if I have to listen to another second of his atrocious city-bred opinions, I may simply perish. Again."

Strider chuckled from above. "You wish we could get rid of ya that easy."

Cloudmist ignored him, lifting his chin. "We all know what to do, yes?"

The ghosts exchanged glances before nodding. They'd played this game many times before. It was practically tradition.

Rosella went first.

She positioned herself carefully, waiting for Ginger to sprint toward the door. When the moment was just right, she held her ground—And let Ginger run right through her.

The impact left Rosella reeling, her form flickering, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as the awful sensation wracked her body. But Ginger? She didn't even flinch.

The only sign anything had happened came a second later. A scent—faint, but unmistakable. Roses.

Ginger skidded to a stop, her hooves scraping against the worn wooden porch. She sniffed the air. That's weird.

CC looked up from inspecting the foundation. "Do you smell that?"

Ginger frowned. "Roses?"

CC nodded, ears twitching. "You see any rose bushes out there?"

She glanced around the tangled mess of weeds. "Nope. Not a one." Then she smirked at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe it's just the smell of the house, wantin' to be our home."

CC rolled his eyes. "Oh please."

She only smirked and pushed the front door open, stepping inside.

As much as CC hated to admit it, she was right. A whole farm—an entire farm, nearly as large as Sweet Apple Acres, just gifted to her out of the blue. She had begged the gods for a chance like this. And, well... it looked like they finally listened.

Rosella, still recovering from the painful walk-through, sighed and slumped onto the nearest invisible surface. "Okay, I'm down. No luck."

That was Strider's cue.

His wings flared, and he grinned, launching into a familiar story. Not because he wanted to brag again—he'd done plenty of that in life—but because he knew what would happen next.

His voice echoed softly in the still house. A tale of adventure. Of battles fought in distant lands. Of victories, of honor.

And then—

Ginger stopped. Her ears flicked back, her tail giving an uneasy swish.

The air had changed.

A strange, low murmur hummed around her, like the distant noise of a crowded pub. Voices, but not voices. She couldn't make out the words, only the sound.

Her fur bristled.

"Okay, CC, this ain't funny," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. "Quit messin' with me."

CC raised an eyebrow. "Messing with you? I didn't say anything."

She frowned. "Don't lie—I heard you."

CC snorted. "Ginger, I literally didn't say a word."

She turned back toward the kitchen, shaking her head. He's trying to spook me out of this, isn't he? Wouldn't be the first time he got all dramatic just to prove a point. But she wasn't budging.

CC, meanwhile, had gone silent. His ears twitched. His shoulders stiffened.

He wasn't playing.

His gaze darted to the left. Then the right. His pupils shrank slightly.

Ginger barely glanced up. "Oh, please."

"There! I saw it again."

She rolled her eyes. "CC, quit it. You know I don't believe in your goofy scaries."

But CC wasn't looking at her anymore.

The house... felt different now. Not just old. Not just abandoned.

Like it was breathing. Watching. Waiting.

Cloudmist's smirk grew.

This was going to be fun.

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Willow!

Better wuality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Meet Willow Everfree, the most laid-back ghost you’ll ever meet—if you can get his attention. Drifting through the afterlife with an easygoing charm, this towering stallion moves at his own relaxed pace, often lost in deep thoughts that range from profound to completely absurd. With his unkempt dreadlocks and ever-present chill aura, he’s the kind of spirit who seems unbothered by just about anything, except maybe the concept of private property. Whether he’s offering oddly insightful wisdom, vibing with nature, or just spacing out in the middle of a conversation, Willow is a ghost who proves that even in death, it’s all about going with the flow.

Base by ponybytes

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Rosella!

Better wuality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Meet Rosella – A refined yet hopelessly misguided unicorn who once believed she could master the art of survival… after reading a few romanticized adventure books. Raised in wealth and luxury, she set out to prove her independence, only to meet an untimely end thanks to a tragic (and completely avoidable) mistake. Now a ghost, Rosella clings to her elegance, offering well-meaning but hilariously inaccurate survival advice while struggling to accept the reality of her privileged past. With a heart full of kindness, a head full of nonsense, and a lingering scent of roses wherever she drifts, she’s learning—slowly—that true strength isn’t found in isolation, but in understanding and connection.

Base by sodasurfer97

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Nooddles!

Better quality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Meet Nooddles – Nooddles, or Nooddlehorn, is a perfectly normal name for a perfectly normal stallion, right? Right? A fast-talking, prank-loving unicorn with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, Nooddles was the kind of pony who could charm his way out of (or into) just about anything. His jokes were his armor, his laughter a shield—but beneath it all, he never quite felt like he belonged. Then, one day, he simply… disappeared. Murdered under mysterious circumstances, his case was never properly investigated, and few even questioned what really happened. Now a restless ghost, he lingers in the afterlife, cracking jokes and playing tricks, but something about him still doesn’t quite add up. Maybe it’s the way his eyes glow just a little too much. Or how he always seems to shift, just at the edges of your vision. But hey—Nooddles is just a normal unicorn. Obviously.

Base by sodasurfer97

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Ash!

Better quality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Meet Ash – A ghost from an era long forgotten, Ash is an enigma. Once a small, rugged horse from a distant age, he doesn’t speak, doesn’t quite fit in, and seems to carry the weight of time itself. With a coat of ash-gray and scars that whisper of old battles, his presence is as quiet as it is unsettling. He doesn’t seem to belong to this world, or perhaps any world. His eyes are deep, as if they’ve seen too much, and his gait is marked by a limp that speaks of a past that was never meant to be shared. He watches, waits, and listens — to the animals, to the wind, to things that most cannot hear. There's a strange peace in his silence, but also something... off. Ash doesn’t seek attention. But if you’re quiet enough, you might find that he’s already watching you.

Base by sodasurfer97

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Strider!

Better wuality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Meet Strider – A fast-talking, flirtatious pegasus with the heart of a hero and the ego to match. Always spinning tales of grand battles and daring feats, he carries himself like a legend—despite a past that doesn’t quite live up to his words. Charming, cocky, and endlessly energetic, Strider is the life of any gathering, even in death. But beneath the bravado lies a restless soul still searching for the glory he never found.

Base by sodasurfer97

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Cloudmist!

Better quality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Meet Cloudmist – Aurelius Cloudmister Brightmane VII, if you’re feeling formal, but just call him Cloudmist. A tall, graceful unicorn with an impeccable pedigree, Cloudmist prides himself on his noble heritage and refined manners. He’s the type who’d scoff at anything less than perfection, always ready with a dramatic remark or a critique of anything beneath his high standards. Beneath the polished exterior, though, lies a stallion deeply torn between his family’s rigid expectations and his own, less-than-perfect desires. Now a ghost, he lingers in the afterlife, still clinging to his aristocratic airs. But despite his constant judgment, there’s more to Cloudmist than meets the eye... if only he’d let go of the past.

Base by sodasurfer97

[ghostsmlp]

Character reveal - Sunny!

Better quality pic can be found on my DeviantArt

Sunflower Field—Sunny to those she loves—is a towering draft mare who never stopped working, even in death. Gruff but motherly, she clings to tradition, stubbornly overseeing Hollowbrook Ranch as if she still ran it. Beneath her no-nonsense attitude hides deep grief, masked by endless labor.

At first, she resists change, rejecting the new owners’ ways. But as the seasons pass, she softens, realizing that family isn’t just blood—it’s the bonds she’s formed. Slowly, she lets go of the past, embraces healing, and finds peace, though she’ll always grumble about modern nonsense. And yes, she still calls everyone “sugar.”

Base by sodasurfer97

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 2

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

The farmhouse had stood empty for so long that its silence had seeped into the very bones of the land. The walls, once painted bright and welcoming, had withered to a weary gray, their wooden planks cracked and warped with time. Grime streaked the windows, filtering what little evening light dared to creep inside. The air was thick with dust, disturbed only by the occasional groan of shifting wood.

But now, that silence had been broken.

Inside the dimly lit house, behind one of those grimy windows, a small cluster of unseen eyes watched.

Cloudmist and Sunny stood at the forefront, their ghostly forms pressed close to the glass like nosy neighbors sizing up new tenants. Their contrast was almost comedic—Cloudmist, tall and poised, his pristine white coat and meticulously styled black mane marked him as high society. Deep purple and electric blue streaks ran through his mane in an elegant sweep, an effortless display of refinement. His violet eyes narrowed with immediate disapproval.

Beside him, Sunny was the picture of practicality—a broad, solid draft mare built for labor, her green-and-white coat smudged as if she'd been working the fields mere moments ago. Her thick ginger mane was bundled into a tight bun, and her green eyes squinted with scrutiny.

"Well, ain't that just a sight," she muttered, rolling her jaw. "Coupla fancy-pants unicorns thinkin’ they can trot in an’ turn this place ‘round." She snorted. "I give ‘em two weeks, tops."

Cloudmist scoffed and flicked his mane with a graceful roll of his eyes. "Darling, please. You’re far too generous. Three days, at most."

His gaze flicked to CC, and his lip curled. "Ugh. Just look at him. Short. Stumpy. Completely lacking in grace." He shuddered dramatically. "It offends me to be forced to share the same plane of existence as such an… improperly constructed unicorn."

Then his eyes slid over to Ginger, and his smirk shifted to something nearly pleased. His voice dropped into a silky murmur. "But her—now she is a unicorn of quality. Tall. Elegant. Clearly from a respectable lineage." He chuckled, his tail flicking with satisfaction. "Finally, a creature worthy of standing in my presence."

Strider, lounging effortlessly on a wooden support beam above them, let out a quiet laugh. His dark blue coat blended seamlessly into the farmhouse’s deep shadows, but the fiery red of his mane flickered like embers in the dim light. "Y’know," he mused, tilting his head, "I wouldn’t mind having some new faces around."

Hovering just behind Cloudmist and Sunny, Rosella clapped her hooves together, her ochre coat glowing faintly. Soft waves of pinkish-orange framed her gentle face, her golden eyes shimmering with excitement. "Ohhh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if they stayed?" she sighed dreamily. "Imagine! A real family here again!"

Cloudmist waved a dismissive hoof. "Before you start fantasizing about playing doting housekeeper, let’s accept reality. These two are not staying."

Before anyone could reply, a blur of yellow and blue zipped toward them.

"Whatcha lookin’ at? Whatcha lookin’ at?"

The ghosts turned just as Nooddles practically vibrated into the group, his bright yellow coat flashing in the dimness. His thick, puffy dark blue mane—streaked with pink and electric blue—made him look like he’d crashed headfirst into a fireworks display. His legs jittered with restless energy, faint violet bruises peppering his coat from his inability to sit still for more than five seconds.

Strider smirked. "New owners."

Nooddles immediately smushed his face against the filthy window. "Oooooh! Look at ‘em! Maybe this time they’ll stay! Maybe this time—oh! OH! I should say hi!" He turned to bolt for the door, then stopped, blinking. "Oh. Right. Can’t."

Cloudmist chuckled darkly. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they won’t."

Rosella huffed. "Y’all are actin’ like they got one hoof out the door already! At least let ‘em settle in before we go scarin’ ‘em silly."

The group exchanged glances before slipping soundlessly through the walls, stepping out into the overgrown yard where Ginger and CC wandered, completely oblivious to their spectral audience.

Ginger’s eyes sparkled as she surveyed the land. "We could paint the whole house—something warm, maybe a soft yellow! And the barn—CC, imagine fixing it up, getting it sturdy again. Oh! We could add a flower garden along the side, maybe even a vegetable patch! What do you think?"

CC ran a hoof along a splintering beam, frowning. "I think this whole place is held together by hope."

The ghosts watched.

Cloudmist sneered, nose wrinkling. "Oh, I do not like him." His gaze slid to Ginger again, his expression shifting to begrudging approval. "But her… now she is a true unicorn."

Rosella practically vibrated with excitement. "Ohhh, it’s been so long since we had a living mare here! Do you think she’d plant roses? Oh! Or violets? She looks like a violet type—"

Strider, still watching Ginger with a lazy smirk, hummed. "Y’know… it’d be a real shame if we haunted her out before she died here." He flicked his tail. "Maybe we should keep her."

Hanging back, Ash observed in silence. His gray coat, fading from dark to near-white, made him look like he had been carved from stone, weathered and ancient. His dark green mane was tangled, unkempt, forgotten. His broken leg, twisted from a time long past, made him move slower than the others, but he seemed unbothered. He simply watched, unreadable as ever.

Nooddles, meanwhile, was bouncing on his hooves, his eyes locked on CC. His head tilted. "What’s he hummin’? What’s he hummin’?" His ears twitched rapidly. "I know that tune! Oh! Oh! If I could just—" He waved his hooves through the air in frustration, unable to tap CC’s shoulder.

Sunny let out a long sigh. "Welp. Guess I oughta give ‘em a chance." Her voice was begrudging but laced with reluctant curiosity.

The ghosts watched. The living were unaware. At least, for now.

[ghostsmlp]

01x00 "Pilot" - Part 1

(Read it on DeviantArt or Wattpad)

The office smelled of old parchment and dust, the kind of place where time moved just a little slower. Heavy bookshelves, packed with thick legal tomes, loomed over Ginger and Cotton Candy as they sat before a cluttered mahogany desk.

Behind it, a unicorn stallion with graying fur and a perpetually unimpressed expression peered at them through half-moon spectacles. His horn glowed faintly as he shuffled through a stack of yellowed papers.

“So, Miss Ginger Trot,” he began, voice as dry as the air in the room, “I assume you’ve read the letter regarding your inheritance?”

Ginger leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “I received the letter, but it wasn’t very detailed. Just said something about inheriting an estate?”

The unicorn, Mr. Fine Print—whose cutie mark, fittingly, was a scroll with the tiniest script imaginable—let out a noncommittal hum as he flipped through his paperwork.

“Yes… the Hollowbrook property. Been in your family for generations, though…” He adjusted his glasses and looked up at her with a careful pause. “No one has actually wanted it for quite some time.”

Cotton Candy, lounging beside Ginger with his usual easygoing posture, frowned. “Oh yeah, that’s reassuring.”

Fine Print either didn’t hear the sarcasm or had long since evolved beyond caring. “The estate has been passed from relative to relative, mostly out of obligation rather than interest. Your great-aunt, Primrose, was the last pony to actually live there, and since her passing, it’s been… well.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say it’s become a burden rather than a blessing.”

Ginger’s ears perked up. “It’s a farm, right?”

Fine Print lifted a brow. “Technically, yes. Though calling it a farm might be generous these days.”

Cotton crossed his forelegs. “So what you’re saying is… we’re inheriting a money pit?”

“In essence,” Fine Print said flatly. “No financial inheritance comes with it. No trust fund, no stipend. Just the land, the buildings—what’s left of them—and anything still inside.”

Cotton turned to Ginger, expecting at least a mild sense of regret. Instead, she was grinning.

“I’ve always wanted a farm,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Ginger’s eyes were shining now, the weight of reality nowhere to be seen. “It’s been a dream of mine! A place of our own, open land, fresh air, growing our own food… maybe even raising animals!” She turned to Fine Print, practically vibrating in her seat. “How soon can we go see it?”

Fine Print, clearly unused to this level of enthusiasm, hesitated before levitating a heavy set of old iron keys onto the desk. “The property is located north, in a small hamlet called Hollowbrook. I’d advise traveling there soon to assess the, ah… state of things.”

Before Cotton could even think about grabbing them first, Ginger had already snatched up the keys, clutching them like treasure.

He ran a hoof down his face. “Ginger. Babe. Can we at least agree to check it out before deciding anything?”

She just smiled, pocketing the keys. She had already decided.

The journey north took the better part of a day, the roads narrowing as the countryside stretched wide around them. Rolling hills turned to dense forests, and the occasional farmhouse or cottage gave way to nothing but trees and open sky. The air smelled crisp and untouched, carrying the damp scent of morning mist and old wood.

By the time they reached Hollowbrook, the sun had begun its slow descent, streaking the sky in hues of pink and gold. The hamlet was little more than a cluster of ancient stone houses, a single dirt road winding through it like a lazy river. The ponies they passed spared them only brief glances before turning away, disappearing into their homes or slipping behind wooden shutters.

“Friendly place,” CC muttered.

Ginger barely noticed. She was too busy clutching the rusted keys in her hooves, her heart racing as they followed the overgrown path leading to her inheritance.

And then, there it was.

The Hollowbrook estate loomed at the edge of the village, caught between the creeping forest and a field gone wild. Time had not been kind to it. The farmhouse was a weathered relic, its once-bright paint long peeled away, leaving bare wood exposed beneath twisting ivy. One shutter hung loose, creaking softly in the wind, and the barn beside it slouched against time’s weight, its beams sagging like an old pony after a hard day’s work. The fields, once fertile, were now a tangled mass of weeds and wildflowers. The entire place seemed to be holding its breath, waiting.

But to Ginger, it was perfect.

She inhaled sharply. “Oh, CC, look at it! It’s got character!”

CC, standing beside her, arched a brow. “It’s got problems.”

Ginger ignored him, already picturing the transformation. “We could repaint the house, fix up the barn, get some crops growing again… maybe even get a few animals! Imagine waking up every morning with the sunrise, stepping outside to the smell of fresh earth—”

CC sighed, rubbing his temples. “Or imagine waking up to the roof caving in because nopony’s lived here in decades.”

“Oh, you’re such a pessimist.” Ginger trotted up the farmhouse steps, testing the wood beneath her hooves. It creaked but held. “Just a little love, that’s all it needs.”

CC eyed the house warily. “It needs a demolition team.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Let’s just give it a few days, see how it feels.” She turned to him with the same pleading look she’d used back at the lawyer’s office. “Please?”

CC let out a long breath, already regretting every decision that had led him here. “Fine. A few days.”

As Ginger grinned triumphantly, neither of them noticed the way the air around them seemed to shift.

The evening light stretched long shadows across the overgrown fields, reaching toward the farmhouse like grasping hooves. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees, yet no other sounds accompanied it—no birds, no insects, just silence.

Unseen eyes watched from the darkened windows. Unheard whispers curled through the empty air.

They were not alone. And they were not welcome.