“Pinkie, dear, are the twins ready yet!?” called Mrs. Cake up the stairs. “♩♬Nightmare Night is about to begin~♪♫!” The owner of Sugarcube Corner had just finished clearing out the last of the days customers from the bakery. It wasn’t unusual for the sweet shop to be doing business late into the night during Equestria’s spookiest time of the year, but since this was the first Nightmare Night that Pound and Pumpkin Cake would be old enough to trick or treat, Mrs. Cake and her husband had decided that they would close up shop early so as to be there to see their little faces light up with delight as they were assuredly showered with candy on account of how sweet and precious they were!

Of course, they thought it was wise to be present just in case something went wrong as well. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Pinkie Pie, the twins semi-official babysitter, but there were some meltdowns only mama or papa would have any chance of dealing with. The Cake twins had never expressed fear of monsters under their bed or in their closet, but that didn’t mean that seeing their friends and neighbors in spooky costumes might not set off the little trick or treaters. Better to be safe than sorry.

As Mrs. Cake finished covering up the trays of left baked goods to be sold the next day at half price, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t heard a reply from her live in employee. It wasn't like Pinkie Pie to ignore her, at least not intentionally. She was just about to cry out again when there was a sudden loud ringing that made her jump about a mile into the air, nearly sending a tray of bat shaped brownies flying. Mrs. Cake turned and glared at the source of the startling noise just as the sound pierced the silence of the bakery once more.

Of course, it was just the telephone. No cause for alarm.

Mrs. Cake hated the new fangled contraption. Apparently they were all the rage in Manehattan and other large cities but were relatively uncommon in places like Ponyville. That had change recently when Rarity had introduced Mr. Cake to the concept of 'take out' orders that could then be picked up by the customer or delivered, for an extra fee. It had certainly expanded their business and made it easier for ponies to buy things that they might otherwise have done without if it meant traveling all the way to the bakery themselves. Even so, Mrs. Cake was of the opinion that a couple of tin cans on a string would have been a better investment than the shrill sounding device.

But, a customer was a customer, and it would have been rude to let the phone just keep ringing. She picked up the receiver, cradling it against her shoulder, “Hello, you’ve reached Sugarcube Corner. I’m sorry to say that we are closing early this evening, and won’t be accepting new orders until tomorrow morning,”

“Hello,” came an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line, as if they hadn’t heard what Mrs. Cake just said. “Who is this?”

“This is Sugarcube Corner,” replied the earth pony, a little perplexed. So far they hadn’t received any calls from anypony that had not been intentionally trying to reach them. But there was a chance this was a wrong number. “Who are you trying to reach?”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. She could hear heavy breathing in the silence that made her uncomfortable, “What number is this?” The voice finally said.

“What number are you trying to reach?” Mrs. Cake asked instead of answering. She didn’t feel comfortable giving out the number to the shop to just anyone, especially some stranger on the phone. While she was unfamiliar with the idea of crank calls, there was something about the voice on the other end of the line that didn’t inspire a whole lot of trust. “I think you have the wrong number dearie.”

“Do I?” the question was cold and without inflection. It was then that’s Mrs. Cake got the feeling that the call wasn’t meant to do anything but waste her time.

“I’m afraid so. But that’s alright dear. Have a happy Nightmare Night and better luck next time!” she said brightly before hanging up. The baker shook her head and looked back to the disturbed tray of brownies. They were jumbled together like a half finished jigsaw puzzle now, where before they had been formed into neat little rows. She’d have to worry about fixing their appearance later, as she could see the last rays of sunlight fading fast through the shops front windows.

“Pinkie, are the twins in their costumes yet!?” Mrs. Cake called out again, moving towards the stairs. As she did, the phone began to ring once more. Another interruption? If this kept up they were going to end up missing out on Nightmare Night altogether! Frustrated, Mr.s Cake stomped back to the counter, “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number,” it was the same person who had called before.

“Then why did you dial it again?” asked Mrs. Cake, losing her patience.

“To apologize,” was the simple reply. They didn’t sound very apologetic.

“Well your forgiven dear, but as I said before we are closed,” the bakery owner emphasized. “Bye-bye now.”

“Wait, no, don’t hang up!” the voice on the other end of the line yelped urgently.

“Why not?”

“I want to talk to you for a second.”

“Goodbye ma'am,” she replied icily.

Mrs. Cake slammed the receiver down. This was getting ridiculous. She still needed to go get changed for the evening herself. While her apron was comfortable and her usual clothing of choice while working, it wouldn’t actually make for much of a costume. She was just about to take off the article of clothing and head upstairs when the phone rang again.

The earth ponies nostrils flared in anger. She was tempted to just let the phone ring at this point, but there was the off chance that the call might be important, however much she personally doubted it. It could be Carrot Cake calling to explain why he was so late getting back from the last of the nights deliveries. Or it might even be the authorities calling to say he'd been caught in some kind of accident. That thought gave Mrs. Cake pause.

Taking a few calming breaths, she turned and answered the phone one more time. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” It was! The! Same! Caller! Arghh!

“Who is this!?” Mrs. Cake demanded. She wanted to know who was responsible for this silly game and put a stop to it once and for all.

“Why don’t you tell me your name and then I’ll tell you mine?” The reply was teasing. Childish. Infuriating!

“I think not.”

She was about to hang up on the prankster for the third and final time when they said “What’s your favorite scary story?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple question. Favorite scary story. Everypony has one,” was the somewhat bored reply.

“I... Don’t know. I haven’t really thought about such things since I was a filly,” she was completely caught off guard by the question., which is why she answered, “The tale of the Headless Horse, I guess.”

“Ooh, a classic! All those frightened teens running around out in the woods. The camp councilors screaming, 'Don't lose your heads!' Heeheehee!” The voice on the phone was getting excited now. “Betcha can’t guess what my favorite scary story is though!”

“I really don’t have time for this. Is this some kind of Nightmare Night prank?”

“Go on, guess!”

There were so many scary stories Mrs. Cake had heard in her youth that she hadn’t thought of in years. Stories she and Pear Butter had swapped with Bright Mac and Burnt Oak sitting around the campfire. And of course there were stories that a young Carrot Cake had whispered to her as well... Stories to make her cuddle close in the dark.

Mrs. Cake was beginning to have her doubts about who exactly was on the other end of the phone. “The Tale of the Olden Pony?”

“Is that the one with the rusty horseshoe?”

“Yes. She goes around saying ‘Who’s got my rusty horseshoe’, searching for it.”

“That’s a really good guess, but no."

"Mother Trudy?"

"That's really more of a fairy tale, dontcha think?

"Well it was scary to me."

"Do you give up?”

“Sure. Fine. If it will make you happy and you’ll stop calling, what is your favorite scary story?”

“It’s yours Mrs. Cake.” the caller practically squealed in delight.

“... What?”

“My favorite scary story is the one you’re in right now! You haven’t checked on your children in awhile Mrs. Cake. Maaaaybe that would be a good idea, dontcha think?” \

The line went dead.

Eyes widening in horror, Mrs. Cake dropped the receiver on the floor and raced up the stairs. The second floor was quiet, far more quiet than it should be with two toddlers and a Pinkie Pie present. Instead there was only the sound of the evening breeze whistling through the curtains at the end of the hall. Mrs. Cake rushed for the nursery, her heart thundering in her chest. She threw open the door to her children’s room and found... Nothing.

No Pound.

No Pumpkin.

No Pinkie Pie.

The room was completely deserted.

“Pound! Pumpkin, sweetie! Come to mommy!” Mrs. Cake called forlornly. It wasn’t unheard of for the party pony and her charges to engage in games of hide and seek, but they would normally stop when she called out to them. “Pinkie Pie? Come on out! You’re starting to worry me...”

But there was no answer.

It was as if they had simply vanished into thin air. The tears started to spill unbidden from Mrs. Cakes eyes as she started searching for any sign of them' opening the toy chest, the closet, searching frantically under their bed, checking every nook and cranny. Finally she had to accept it... her babies were gone!

A ringing sound came from downstairs. The baker wiped her tears away with her apron, and a hot look of fury filled her eyes. She thundered down the stairs almost as quickly as she had flown up them and scooped the phone up... Not pausing to think that someone would have had to put the receiver back on the phones cradle for it to start ringing again... “I swear, if you so much as harm a single hair on their heads i’ll...”

“Knock knock, Mrs. Cake.”

A loud knock on the front door caused the baker’s heart to leap up into her throat. Earlier she had locked up to make sure no late customers might try to sneak in to buy some last minute party treats. She could just barely make out the silhouette of somepony standing outside now, silhouetted by the setting sun. Mrs. Cake clutched the phone as if it were a weapon, and slowly crept towards the door.

It was possible that on the other side of the door there was just a customer, only an innocent uninvolved pony, that hadn’t taken the hint that they were closed for the day. Or since the sun was already setting, maybe it was an early trick or treater, hitting up the biggest purveyor of sweets in town. But given the words of the terrifying anonymous caller, it seemed more likely that there was a nasty surprise for Mrs. Cake waiting on the other side of that door. Somepony ready to pounce on the poor middle aged pony, or some other kind of gruesome surprise. Well, she’d show them, whoever they were.

Gritting her teeth, Mrs. Cake gave a mighty yell as she unlocked the door and threw it open all in one rush, ready to smite whoever or whatever was on the other side of the door!

“Whoa! I’m sorry I’m late dear, but you don’t have to take my head off just because I forgot my keys!” Mr. Cake crouched before his panicked wife, shielding his head as best he could while balancing a tray of empty cupcake tins on his back.

The fury drained out of Mrs. Cake and she started crying again as she grabbed Mr. Cake in a tight hug. She clung to him, sobbing, “Oh Carrot, it’s just awful, awful!”

“Hey. Hey now! What’s this all about Honeybun,” he did his best to comfort his distraught wife, returning her embrace and patting her back, but Mr. Cake was completely clueless as to what had brought all of this on.

“It’s the twins, Carrot!” she replied, sobbing harder. “They’ve taken the twins!”

"What?" her answer didn't make any sense to him, "Who's taken them?"

Just then, there was a distant boom as of thunder and a sudden rush of wind, followed by a warm wetness pit-pattering down onto the pair of ponies and the dusty earth like a late autumn rain.

In her arms, Mr. Cake went limp. Her husband's full weight unexpectedly sagging against her left Mrs. Cake staggering for a moment, before she could try to make sense of what had just happened. Blinking away her tears, it took her vision some time to clear enough for her to see why he had slumped against her the way he had.

For a moment, all she could see was red, as a fountain of crimson slowly subsided with fitful spurts back into the stump of Carrot Cake's throat. The corded red muscle, the exposed bone, and the twitching hole that was all that remained of her husbands neck swam sharply into focus. It was only then that Cup Cake realized that she was staring at the place her husband's head was once attached...

She screamed, unable to processes his sudden death, but terrified all the same, as she let his body fall to the ground.

“What’s the matter Mrs Cake? I thought you liked the tale of the Headless Horse!” came the distant, tiny voice on the phone still clutched in her hooves. The high-pitched, mocking laughter that followed only made the knot of terror tighten in Mrs. Cake's throat.

The baker stumbled backwards, back inside Sugarcube Corner. It was a good thing she had, because at just that exact moment a crimson blur slammed into her husband's corpse, sending up another shower of blood and gore before rocketing away into the stratosphere. What was left of his body had exploded across the road and the side of the building, pulverizing his remains. The scarlet splatter on exterior of the building were all that marked that Carrot Cake had ever been there at all.

Mrs. Cake's breathing was coming rapidly now. It wasn’t just fear and confusion that gripped her heart, but also the first flickering jolts of madness that threatened to overtake her sanity. Had she really just watched her husband die before her eyes? Had their last moments together really just occurred before something swooped down from the sky and ripped off his head? What was going on? How could something so horrible as that happen? Was she losing her mind?

There was no time to contemplate this as the crimson streak of color from before suddenly smashed through the storefronts window and roared into the opposite wall, punching a hole through the wood and plaster and exiting out the other side. Mrs. Cake screamed and ducked under the service counter as it came back again, shattering glass and sending cakes and pastries flying everywhere as it flew back out the front of the building.

Over and over the unstoppable blur tore through the building, causing walls to crumble and the ceiling to collapse as the support beams gave way. Mrs. Cake screamed and screamed as her lungs filled with dust and her body was crushed beneath a steadily increasing pile of debris. Her mind was reeling, hysteria threatening to overwhelm her at any minute. If that happened there would be no hope for survival! She had to keep it together! She had to find a way to escape! She had to save her babies!

Finally the main support beam snapped and the entire structure gave out, causing Sugarcube Corner to at collapse entirely atop Mrs. Cake, crushing her ribcage until they shattered, the shards of bone piercing her heart and lungs, bringing a horrible, final end to her story.

---

The crimson cloaked blur that had caused all of this damaged landed softly next to the demolished building as the first stars of the evening began to wink overhead. If anypony has noticed the destruction, or thought to try and render aid, it was clear from the sounds of distant screams and the smell of smoke that they already had their own problems to deal with. The red robed figure tapped one hoof impatiently as it folded blue wings against its body, as if to say 'Well? I'm waiting.'

From the pile of rubble a door suddenly opened. Out from the cellar, beneath the now destroyed bakery, popped a second hooded and robed figure, a pair of foals laying across its back as they dozed in what looked to be some kind of drug induced stupor. Needless to say it was Pound and Pumpkin, the Cake Twins, whom the ghoulish figure had hidden away where their mother had not thought to find them.

As the crimson cloaked ponies approached one another, neither spoke a word, but silently extended a hoof to one another. Hoof-bumping, both seemed satisfied with themselves, as the Pony carrying the twins bounced joyfully towards the center of town, with her apparent companion following swiftly behind her.

Neither looked back at the freshly carved jack-o-lanterns that had suddenly appeared on the front stoop of the flattened bakery. They couldn’t see the tortured and weeping faces that seemed to move in the soft candle light that flickered within the gourds. But if they had, they surely would have laughed at the cruelty of their prank.

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