The air had grown ever colder as Scrounger made his way down the darkened and empty streets. The place he lived was not much further from where he worked, but at his age every step was difficult. The snow had grown thick by this point and the sound of him walking upon it was loud, though he was largely ignoring such things at this point. All he wanted was to get home and get some rest. Eventually, he reached his abode, a modestly-sized apartment block on the outskirts of the city. Looking up, Scrounger could see that there were no lights in any of the windows. Everypony must be asleep by now, he thought to himself, and so he focused instead on reaching the front door. As he approached it, he gazed upon the familiar brass knocker that decorated it. An ugly piece of metal, but functional all the same.

As Scrounger reached up to turn the knob of the door, he could have sworn that he heard something behind him. Spinning as fast as his old legs would allow, Scrounger looked behind him, only to see that there was nopony there. His eyes darted from left to right, trying to see if there was some potential intruder hiding under the cover of darkness. But even with his failing eyesight, Scrounger could see that there was nopony. Letting out a sigh, the old stallion began to turn back towards the door. But once he did, he froze when he actually caught sight of it. The knocker was still there, but it had changed, morphed it's shape into what Scrounger recognised immediately as the face of a pony. Old and withered, the face was that of a stallion, whose gaze pierced Scrounger.

The stallion felt no small amount of worry as he looked upon it, though his confusion and nervousness was made all the worse as the once-still face before him suddenly moved, opening it's mouth and letting out a blood-curdling scream. Scrounger backed away immediately, dropping to his four knees and even going so far as to almost bury his face in the snow. His eyes clenched shut, Scrounger listened as the screaming continued for several long moments. But, after a long while, the terrible sound finally stopped, and the stallion opened his eyes to see what had happened. To his surprise, the face had vanished, leaving behind only the usual knocker instead. Slowly, he got back to his hooves and nervously approached the door, trying to make sure that this wasn't some trick of his eyes. When he was sure that the door was back to normal, his expression became one of disdain as he let out a groan.

"Humbug."

Reaching for his keys, Scrounger opened the door and entered. Much like his office, this place was dark and cold, which was expected given that everypony was probably fast asleep at this point. Letting out a sigh, Scrounger looked around the entrance hall, perhaps hoping that somepony was about, trying to trick him with that doorknob stunt. But when he saw nopony there, his face twisted into one of slight concern as he began to make his way upstairs. His old bones didn't help with his walking up the several floors, but he eventually reached the doors of his apartment. Opening it, he was sure to use the many locks that adorned his door. If there was somepony about, he didn't want them getting in. With that settled, he began to get undressed, placing his suit and hat with the closet of his room before donning his traditional sleeping attire, a simple night cap.

However, he was not one to go to bed without some sort of evening meal, and so he got himself a small plate of hay and daisies from the fridge, before sitting himself down on the large armchair that stood in front of the small fireplace there. Being the kind of stallion he was, the fire was never that big, lest he have to pay for too much wood. In fact, it was barely enough to light and heat the area around his chair, much less the rest of the apartment. Still, Scrounger wasn't concerned by this, and so he began to eat his meal quietly. This went on for several minutes, until the stallion was interrupted by a familiar sound. Looking up, he saw that it was the bell hanging above his front door. It was there to signal him if anyone came to greet him, but the ringing had been brief, and hardly the prolonged sound he was used to.

But that soon changed when, mere moments after the first ring, a second came. But this one was longer, and far louder. Louder than the bell should have been. Scrounger looked on with nervousness and worry as that tiny bell let out an endless volley of ringing that disturbed him greatly. But, as soon as he raised his hooves to cover his ears and drown out the sound, it stopped. He looked up at the bell, and saw it stand still. Much like the doorknob from earlier, Scrounger tried reasoning with himself, telling himself that this was all some sort of trick his mind was playing on him. But that train of thought was once more derailed as a new sound began to make itself known to him. It was the unmistakeable sound of the door of the apartment block opening with a loud creak before closing. Even all the way on this floor, Scrounger knew it well.

He remained in his seat as his ears struggled to try and listen in on what was going on downstairs. He did not have to wait long for that though, as the sound of hoofsteps rising up the stairs could now be heard. But something else was mixed in with it. Something metallic perhaps? Whatever it was, it was scraping along the stairs, and from the fact that the noise was growing louder and louder, Scrounger knew it was coming closer to his level. With every passing moment, the hoofsteps grew closer, and as they did, so too did Scrounger’s nervousness. Something deep within him told him he should run. To gallop as far away from this place as possible. But he couldn't, almost as if he was frozen in his chair. He could not take his eyes away from the door of his apartment, waiting to see what happened next.

The hoofsteps eventually stopped once they reached Scrounger’s door. Whoever or whatever was approaching, it was just ion the other side of that thin layer of wood now. The old stallion took a gulp and counted the moments as absolutely nothing happened. Then, he squinted his eyes as he saw something he'd never seen before. Some kind of sickly green glow, emerging through the door. Some kind of unicorn magic perhaps? Or something worse? All he knew was that, with the passing of seconds, that glow gave way to what was unmistakeably the head of a pony. Then a hoof. Then another, until finally, the complete form of an earth pony stallion now stood before him. But it was strange. All around the mysterious stallion were chains, connected to something that still lay on the other side of the door. But as the apparition moved forward, albeit slowly, those chains pulled their weights forward, revealing themselves to be safes and money boxes.

But all that concerned Scrounger now was the fact that this, for lack of a better word, ghost, was approaching him, and gazing upon him in a menacing manner. The old stallion backed up into his chair as much as he could, but it took a long time, almost until the visitor was a few feet away from him, that he finally managed to get out any words.

"Wha...what do you want?"

The spectre stopped moving after hearing this, though his gaze remained locked onto Scrounger.

"You," he answered.

Scrounger could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his face now, but nevertheless managed to get more words out.

"Who are you?"

The ghost shook his head before answering.

"Ask not who I am...but who I was."

Scrounger, understandably, was confused by that statement, but not wanting to oppose this spirit, he tried doing as asked.

"Well...who were you then?"

The spirit narrowed his eyes before speaking.

"In life...I was your partner...Scrimper."

Until now, Scrounger had been shivering furiously. But after hearing that, he stopped. Narrowing his eyes yet again, he began to examine this ghost more closely. Sure enough, upon his head, was the same bandage that had been tied to his partner's head in that open casket all those years ago. He even sounds like him, Scrounger thought to himself. But the old stallion was not one to accept the existence of spirits like this so easily, even with a display as striking as this, and his expression began to reflect the scepticism he felt, even if it was mixed in with no small amount of fear as well. The ghost of Scrimper looked upon that face and knew immediately what thoughts were going on in there.

"You do not believe in me?"

Scrounger took a few moments, but soon composed himself before sitting up straight with a more serious look on his face.

"I don't."

Scrimper looked, for all intents and purposes, disappointed by that declaration.

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

Scrounger shook his head a little.

"Because any number of things can affect them. A disorder of the stomach perhaps. You could be...er...a bit of undigested hay. A blot of mustard. A crumb of cheese."

The stallion narrowed his eyes before pointing his hoof in an accusing manner towards Scrimper.

"Yes...there's more of gravy than of grave about you!"

Gaining a look of great anger, Scrimper practically leaped forward, opening up his mouth and letting out that same terrifying howl that Scrounger had heard from the doorknob not so long ago. It was only now, as he was cowering from the apparition of his old partner, that he realised that it was HIS face on the knob. His doubts were dropping with every passing moment, not helped by the sheer terror he felt at watching the howling spectre before him, whose chains rattled so loudly that Scrounger was sure he'd wake up ponies in entirely different cities.

"I'm sorry! I...I didn't mean to offend you, ghost!"

There was a moment or two, but the screaming eventually died down, and Scrimper looked down at the chains in his hooves with a mixture of sadness and regret. It was a look that did not escape Scrounger's notice, and so he spoke up, albeit in a very nervous manner.

"Why are you covered in chains, Scrimper?"

The ghost looked up at his old partner, his expression now a steely one.

"I wear the chain I forged in life. A chain forged by all the greed and selfishness I showed to others. Link by link, I made this prison for myself. A prison...that is mine for all eternity."

He looked away from Scrounger and at the small fire beside him, his expression growing ever more despondent.

"I was a fool, old friend. I thought I was leading a good life. A prosperous life. But in death...I see that I lived only for myself. No others ever caught my notice, or my care. And in living such a life...I damned myself."

Scrounger looked at him, his face showing a degree of puzzlement.

"But...but you were always so good at our business and..."

He did not have time to finish, as Scrimper turned on him with fury in his eyes.

"BUSINESS?!"

To Scrounger's horror, that outburst had loosened the binding's on Scrimper's head, allowing his jaw to drop downwards, as if there had never been anything to hold it up. The old stallion recoiled at this grotesque and morbid image before him. But it was Scrimper who showed the most distress, as he reached up with his hooves as much as his chains would allow. There was a few moments of silence from him as he tightened his bindings yet again, giving himself a more normal appearance yet again. He took a few deep breaths to recover from that before looking up at his partner again.

"Business? Ponykind was my business. And in that, I failed miserably."

Narrowing his eyes, Scrimper began to step forward towards Scrounger.

"But...can you imagine the length and weight of your chain, Scrounger? It was as long and heavy as mine seven years ago...and you have laboured on it ever since."

Scrounger felt a great chill creep down his spine as he heard those words. Turning, he looked around, perhaps expecting to see such a chain there behind him. But there was nothing. If such a thing existed, then if Scrimper was to be believed, he would endure even worse that what he has, which was saying something. Looking upon the passed-on stallion, Scrounger took a moment to gather himself before speaking.

"Scrimper...enough of this. Speak comfort to me, I beg of you."

The spirit's expression became one of sadness once more as he heard that question.

"I am sorry...but I have none to give."

A look of horror crossed Scrounger’s face with that answer, but he had no time to respond to it as Scrimper spoke aloud once more.

"My time is almost done here. I came to warn you, that you yet have a chance of escaping my fate. A chance that I have obtained for you."

After everything that had happened, Scrounger felt a small degree of relief upon hearing that.

"You were always a good friend to me, Scrimper. Whatever help you've given me...thank you."

Scrimper nodded at that before continuing.

"You will be haunted by three spirits."

The sense of relief left Scrounger after hearing that, at which point he looked upon his old partner with what could only be described as annoyance.

"Begging your pardon, Scrimper...but I think you and I have very different ideas on what the word "help" is supposed to mean."

The spirit ignored those words as he began to move away from Scrounger's chair and towards the nearby window.

"Expect the first spirit tomorrow, when the bell tolls one."

Scrounger could barely get any words out at this point.

"But...couldn't I just see them all at once and be done with it?"

Once more, Scrimper ignored him.

"Expect the second one the same night at the next hour. And the third..."

A pause in his words led Scrounger to really pay attention to him, wherein he saw that there was a brief look of fear upon Scrimper's face, though why, he could not say. After this lengthy pause, Scrimper finally finished.

"...the third shall arrive when your business with the second is finished."

It was here that he finally turned to look upon his old partner and friend, who was hanging on every word at this point. As he offered a small but comforting smile, Scrimper spoke his final words.

"You will not see me again."

With that, the ghost turned and began to pass through the window, much like he had done with the door. Scrounger kept his gaze upon him as best he could, watching as the eerie green glow grew further and further away, until eventually, he could be seen no longer. As if to symbolise his old partner's disappearance, the tiny fire beside Scrounger's chair finally died out, leaving the old stallion completely alone.

And for the first time in many years, he truly felt the cold of his room.