The Equiteer

Monday night, John could not sleep well. It was one of those nights when his own Parent's strictness got the better of his emotions. He sat in bed reading a comic book from the rack: The Stupendous Six and The Silver Slasher. It kept his mind occupied, but the booming sounds of thunder could be heard off the distance. It had been sunny for the past couple days too. It boggled his mind at the quickness of the storms.

As the Six in the comic started to corner the Slasher in an alley, John thought he heard a faint humming.

This wasn't everything. Off in the distance, sirens and ambulance could be heard. Of course, in the city, this was almost always heard. Someone gets a heart attack, chokes on an olive, or just plain collapses, 911 is called. Because of this, John dismissed it. With this, John started to nod off: lightning and thunder getting closer before John dozed into the unconsciousness of sleep.

Brightly colored forms clouded John's dreams. They were familiar, horse shaped ones. John couldn't pin down where he's seen them. But their silhouettes he had seen before.

They seemed to stand around his bed. Staring. Watching. As if expecting him to make an address to them. John lifts his arm in the dream-like state and touches one of the figures outstretched arms: a familiar blue one with tail and mane a blur of varying colors.

They don't react. They just stare. Cocking their heads to the side as if curious about John's being.

Then a pair of eyes, red and glowing could be seen in the back. They're small and hidden: as if something evil is lurking there. Then, with no warning, the dark figure flies at John: evaporating the brightly colored figures and making a loud crackle as darkness encompasses John's vision.

John jumps up in bed. The sound of pouring rain and booming thunder could be heard out his room window. John rubs his eyes and looks at the clock. 9:30 AM.

"That was the strangest nightmare I've ever had." John mutters to himself.

John steps out of bed and opens the window. The day was even gloomier than last Saturday. It dampened John's spirits enough: though he usually loved the rain.
Without hesitating, John get's dressed for the day. In some odd amount of time, he would have to go to the college. So it was best to get ready.

Having finished preparing himself for the day, John walks out of his bedroom and down the stairs into the living room. It's quiet. All too quiet. Something is especially different about this morning and it's not necessarily the recent installment of floral print curtains on the living room windows.

No. It was the glum, depressed, in fact, weepy expression on his mother's face. As well as the sinister grave look his father usually exhibited when he was somber.
On top of it, his two sisters were teary eyed and whimpering.
This all came as a shock to John. And because of it, he could feel his heart rate increase and body shake. Something happened. Something that he would likely dread to hear about.

"What's going on?" John croaked: his anxiety getting ahold of him.
His mother looked at John's father, who nodded and looked John square in the eye.

'Uh oh.' John thought.

"Your friend, Mark." John's father said slowly.
John's heart raced a bit more. This clearly was not good if it had to do with Mark.

"Mark passed away." John's father said.

The words hit John like a knife stab.

"W-what?!" John nearly whispered.

"Mark was hit by a car last night. His father...he was going to punish Mark, he ran off, tripped at the side of the road in front of an oncoming car." Father said.

John's knees went weak.

"M-Mark.....gone?" John said: it was still not processing. "Gone?!"

"Yes." John's father said.

John should've known. Those sirens weren't for any old geezer, they were for Mark. They were the sign of Mark's end. No longer would he see Mark in person. Not till he dies or Christ returns that was.
Now it made sense: the crying, the glum attitudes. Even the depressing storm and the nightmare seemed to echo the sudden tragedy.

"He can't be." John said: his face wrinkling ever so slowly into an expression of despair and anguish. "This is just more of the nightmare!"

"It's not a nightmare." John's mother croaked. "He's really dead."
And that confirmed John's worst fears.

It wasn't the end of them either.

Two weeks later, Sunday Morning service: John's family prepared for church.
This would be the first time Mark's father would be preaching since the death of his son. John wondered what Mark's father was going to teach this morning. Maybe a recap of salvation or a sermon that pertains to what happens to a Christian after they die. Maybe something that would lift the spirits of them all. Something that would give them joy: reassuring them that God is in control despite the trials we are to endure in the Genesis 3 world.

Alas, this wasn't the case. As the family car pulled into the church parking lot, the billboard read "Beware the gay ponies."

John stared at the message of the board with widened eyes.

Pastor Adams found out about Mark being a brony. And from the looks of it, he did not take the fact well.
John swallowed a hard lump of fear as they entered the double doors of the small church. He knew the message was going to be inflammatory.

They began on singing hymns. Nothing but the blood, when I survey the wondrous cross, good choices all of them. They seemed to put John's mind at rest a little. But not totally: his fear nagged at him more. Soon, after the last hymn was sung, Pastor Adams walked up to the pulpit. He had a grim look on his face. It was almost condescending.

"Good morning." He said seriously: much like how he usually does.

The congregation replied likewise.

The pastor paused for a while and stared at the pulpit before looking back up at the conversation.

"As you are all probably aware, my son, Mark Adams, had passed away." The pastor said.
He paused yet again. Pain could be seen in his face. But there was more than pain. There was anger.

"Before he died in a tragic accident," the pastor started, "We found that he had been watching the show called My Little Pony. It killed my son: the desire to continue watching the show."

'Here we go.' John though dismally.

"He was in sin." The pastor continued, "He was watching lesbian ponies kissing each other and having sex."

John was a bit shocked. But not phased. While John, himself, had never looked at an episode of the show, he knew as clear as day that a children's show wouldn't likely allow any mention or reference to sex at all. Unless...unless the world had become that perverted already.

"I will be telling you about the dangers of my little pony and of the cultic practice called 'Bronyism'" Mr. Adam's continued. He went on about the pornographic fanart, the homoerotic shipping, and even just the basic fact that men were liking a show meant for girls. He accused all Bronies of being gay, of being pornographic artists, of bestiality even.

As the message wore on, John's irritation grew, his anger grew. This was his own SON that he was accusing...John's friend...and yet he was dismissing all of the other evidences in his son's life that indicated the contrary. He was dismissing the wholehearted worship of God, dismissing the willing participation in church ministry.

He was dismissing the evidence of Mark's salvation: the good works, the fruit of the spirit, his love of believers. And he was secretly accusing someone, who John had no doubt in his mind to be a true believer because of the evident change in his life, of being without salvation.

But even still, what made John even more angry than the message about Bronyism, was that it made John doubt the integrity of his friend. Could it be possible that My Little Pony was filled with perverse ideologies? Could it be possible that Mark was hiding sexual sin in the closed comfort of his room? Could it be possible that Mark even condoned sexual immorality...even though he said many a time to John himself that he was against things like pornography, lust, homosexuality, etc?

Could it be possible that the good works John saw in Mark's life were merely religious practices...and not the evidence of his salvation?

John sat in the pew: a blank expression on his face. He wasn't sure if his life was crumbling before him. It sure felt like it was though. It's here when he noticed something else that was odd: Sarah wasn't in the front pew as she always was on Sunday's.

"Now in closing, I am saying this as a warning to young men: If you see someone who watches My Little Pony, refuse to associate with them. Parents, if you catch your sons watching My Little Pony, do not hesitate to take the rod to him." Mr Adams finalized in an almost blood-chilling tone. "Now next week, we are going to cover the dangers of young women watching Transformers. "

Pastor Adams glanced sympathetically at his wife when he said this: to which her facial expression gained a greater disposition of sadness as if she knew something even more terrible than Mark's death.

"This is a topic we should be aware of because, like with My Little Pony, Transformers can turn young women into lesbians." He continued.

The gears clicked as he said this. Could the reason Sarah was not here be because she was outed as a Lesbian for becoming a fan of transformers? Maybe. It was a hunch but a possibility nonetheless.
The service ended like a snap after closing prayer. John's parents went to go talk with the Adam's, thank him for the message.

But John just stood by and stared. Giving Pastor Adams an expression of disbelief, shock, and downright contempt.
The Pastor seemed to notice this. After John's parents were done, he glanced at John. He smiled warmly at first. But as John stared, his face became more and more condescending: as if he knew John was questioning his authority.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Adams said.

"No." John said nervously. "I...nevermind."

John walked off but glanced every now and then back at Mr. Adams: who folded his arms and nodded as if saying "Yeah. I thought not."

The ride home from church was unbearable. John's father and mother discussed the message: displaying agreement with Pastor Adams position. Meanwhile, John sat in the far back behind his sisters in the van. His family was agreeing. One of his sisters seemed to be unsure about it, but the others, they agreed.

"So son, what did you think of the message?" Father said.

John snapped out of his blank stare through space.

"Uh." John said.

The family waited expectantly.

John sighs.

"I do not agree with Mr. Adams." John said boldly.

The car shook as everyone gasped.

"Son." Father said. "You're not a Brony are you?"

John gave a deep breath.

"No. I'm not." He said. "But I was a friend to one."

"Look. You heard the pastor." Father said. "The brony fandom is full of lesbian/gay pornographists. You should not associate with them."

"Just as much as any other fandom." John says. "There's even pornographic fanart of things like star-trek, Star Wars, I would imagine the same applies to the Chronicles of Na-."

"That's enough!" John's father shouted. "When we get home, you're getting your internet access cut off. No son of mine is going to defend perversion."

John shut his trap. He didn't even get his point across. John didn't even get to the fact that Christians were not just supposed to live a life secluded from the world.

"Okay." John said flatly.

The rest of the way home was spent in silence. Upon approaching the house, John made his way out of the car and up to his room. He plopped onto the bed: not bothering to change out of his suit. There were so many things he wished weren't true: his parents turning on him, Mark's death, the impending internet restrictions.

Alas, the best John could do was rub his temples to relieve the stress.
After a while of lying there, John stood up and approached the closet.
He takes off the black jacket. However, he doesn't take off the dark grey dress shirt and pants. Instead, he leaves them on and lands on his bed once more.

John was tired. The morning had wiped him out. So, John closed his eyes in an effort to take a snooze.

John soon opened his eyes at the sound of a hum. The brightly colored equineforms reappeared.
There were six to be exact. John didn't know how he didn't see this earlier.
And even more noticeable: they were not as muddled. Their features were even more detectable. And this only made them even more familiar.

"Hello?" He thought he heard the purple one say. "John Carson?"

John stared at these figures.

"Hello?" He replied. "Who are you and where did you come from?"

The figures stared for a while before the blue one finally responded.

"The crystals!" It said: seemingly pointing to the large, unique crystals on his window.

The figures all left John's bedside and walked to the crystals. They seemed awed by the unique way the sunlight refracted through the pastel-rock colored form.

But, no sooner had they approached the rack of crystals did they completely evaporate and the scene went black.

"GAH!!!" John shouted as he awoke from the nap.

He had been asleep for an entire hour. And during his nap, he had another one of those strange dreams.

He didn't think much of it obviously. But he walked over to the crystal rack and picked up one of the flattish colored Crystals. It the most mysterious specimen of crystal that he had ever found: each looked so much like they came from a cartoon and yet, they bore a strange sense of reality as well. They each had a strange, silky texture, and yet they were easy to grip as well. With one in hand, he walked downstairs to watch TV.
Everyone was gone. Mom and dad appeared to be taking a nap of their own. The girls were nowhere to be seen: though John assumed they went out to a movie.

Without exerting himself too much, John turned on the TV and started browsing through channels.

Not thinking, John accidentally clicked on The Hub as My Little Pony was playing.

It was the introductory titles at this point. A catchy theme mixed with a very well animated title sequence.
John thought he heard his Father stir, and so he flipped to the sports channel: hoping that his father had forgotten about the countless times he said sports were boring to watch.

When the rustling of his father died down, John flipped it back to the hub, turned the volume down, and began to watch an episode.

As he watched a purple pony named Twilight Sparkle lose her sanity over a potentially late letter to the princess, only one thing stood out in his mind:

"This...is a show for Little Girls?!" He said to himself with a chuckle.

He had to admit: this was hilarious. But voices from the parent's bedroom could be heard. And so, John cut it off: switching to Spongebob instead. As if on cue, his father rounded the corner of the nearby hallway.

"What are you watching?" His father asked curiously.

"Just Spongebob." John said: pointing to the familiar sponge on the TV.

His father squinted at the TV ever so slightly before he continued on his way to the backyard. He was going to relax on the chair they kept out there: as he always did on Sundays. John quickly turned the TV off and made a retreat to his room.

"That was close." He thought to himself as he sat at his desk.
John replaced the crystal onto his window sill.

They began to hum harmoniously as he did this: to which John cocked his head to the side out of intense curiosity. This was the same hum he would hear before each of those dreams. John turns around and sees a large, white, equine shaped figure.
Next to it, he sees another, shorter one: also white. The taller looks female whereas the smaller appears to be male.

John's heart begins to race out of fear. He was seeing this in real-time. He had not fallen asleep as far as he knew.

Wait...Darkness.

John shoots up from lying on the floor. He just...collapsed! He passed out. He had an episode of syncope.
John rubbed his head. It was twinging from the impact with the floor.

As if this weren't bad enough, the crystals were still humming, and the six equine shaped figures had shown up. Only this time, they were facing something that drove John to shudder even more.
A dark, ominous figure shrouded the entire room and stood in the center. A wide, smug, glowing grin plastered itself underneath two wicked, murderous eyes.
Then, the monster opens it's mouth wide, the six figures disappear, and the scene goes black as pitch once more.