The Truth About the Headless Horse

by survivorofgallopfrey

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Dark, Sad
Length: 3181

Legend tells of the Headless Horse being an evil spirit or a monster. This is not true at all. This is the true story of the Headless Horse.

The Headless Horse is real, but he is not evil. He is not a ghost, or a monster as the legend claims him to be.

This is the sad truth about the Headless Horse.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-02 07:40:04 UTC

The Truth About the Headless Horse

You may recall having once heard a campfire story called “The Legend of the Headless Horse,” a rather chilling tale about a group of outdoor campers who are stalked by a wicked stallion with no head, and yet is still able to produce a blood-curdling evil laugh, and none of them are ever seen from again. Most ponies alive today that know the story, don’t realize it has been told for thousands of years, and, like all urban legends of its sort, the story has been altered time and time again with every retelling, and by now has strayed so far from the original version, that it no longer even remotely resembles that version.

The very first telling of the story, dating back over 10 years before Princesses Celestia and Luna ever sat on the royal throne for the first time, was told by an earth pony, named Riff Raff, who had come into town one stormy night, completely out of breath from running, and proceeded to tell everypony that he was in the woods, and in a flash of lightning, the silhouette of a stallion without a head was shown to him, the moment he saw that it was trotting toward him, he ran for his life back to the village.

One generation of passing down the tale later, and the story had already been altered so that Riff Raff was killed by, what was back then called the Headless Phantom, by ripping off his head and using it to replace the one it lost long ago. A generation later, and an epilogue was added, revealing that the Phantom has an entire collection of pony heads stored away for him to use when he pleases. Yet another generation went by, and now the collection of heads are not just lifeless and waiting dormant for him to use, but now the heads are all alive, and the souls of the ponies who the heads belonged to are all stuck inside of them, all for the phantom to enjoy listening to their screams and tears for all eternity. One more generation, and Riff Raff was a detective investigating a strange series of murders in which all the victims died by having their heads taken clean off. That particular version of the story, is actually a classic novel titled “The Bizarre Case of the Headless Murders” by Ghost Writer, which is now a rare novel, after the original manuscript got lost in a fire shortly after its initial publication, with only 100 copies having been published at the time. As a result of the fire, all future incarnations of the story don’t even have Riff Raff in it.

Now, believe it or not, there is a definite amount of fact behind this myth. Those who have done a great deal of research into these sort of stories, and where they all came from, widely believe that Riff Raff’s own account of his encounter with this figure had actually happened. There have also been many other reported sightings of this being ever since, some of the more recent ones have been lucky enough to snap a photograph or two of it, sometimes not even knowing that it was even in the frame until looking at the fully developed images later on. Also, it is now known who the Headless Horse is.

So many incarnations of the legend say that he is a demon, or a monster, or a vengeful ghost, or a spirit of Tartarus, or even an extraterrestrial. Don’t believe any of these! Heck, don’t believe any incarnation of the story except the original and this one! This is the TRUE story of the Headless Horse, and he is not evil at all, but is instead very lonely and depressed.

There was once a unicorn stallion, named Smarty Pants.

Smarty Pants was very intelligent and handsome, and he took great pride in having both of those traits. He had made many major breakthroughs in mathematics and science, his first of which was when he was only 10, when he came up with the figure of pi, which unfortunately, the other mathematicians would not listen to him, because he was only a young colt (however somepony, by the name Starswirl the Bearded, liked his idea so much that he stole it and took all the credit for himself). Smarty eventually managed to use his intelligence to become a semi-wealthy unicorn, and was just about to marry a beautiful mare, named Courage. It seemed so certain that he was going to have such a great future with her.

And then one day, particularly the day just before his wedding, something terrible happened, something that would change Smarty’s life forever. He had gone out into the nearby woods to get some firewood, for it was a very cold day, and he was never seen again.

He had somehow managed to lose the trail, when he came across a patch of odd blue flowers. He thought they were just so pretty, that he picked one with his magic, smelt its lovely scent, and set it in his hair. “I’ll give it to Courage later. She’ll love it.”

Unknown to him at the time, those flowers were known as poison joke. For those of you unfamiliar with this plant, poison joke is similar to poison oak, which touching it makes you uncontrollably itchy, only poison joke plays a cruel joke on those who come into contact with it. There have been cases of it causing things like moving one’s face from their head to their bum, or growing a fifth leg where one’s private parts should be, or making a unicorn’s horn floppy and useless, or turning a little filly into a fifty foot giant. Poor Smarty Pants received quite possibly the single most cruel, even brutal, joke in the history of poison joke jokes. He had great pride in his handsome face and intelligent brain, so poison joke decided to take them both away from him.

He then turned back around to see if he could locate the path again, but he hadn’t gotten very far, when he felt a massive head-splitting pain all throughout his head, he fell to the ground and screamed in agony. One minute later the pain was gone, his screaming ceased abruptly, and he felt a wave of relief hit him, and sighed.

No wait, he didn’t sigh, even though his he sent the signal from his brain to do so. Then he thought to himself, “Did it get dark already? Did I pass out or something?” Then he realized something even more peculiar, why was it suddenly so silent? And what happened to the smell of the grass, trees, and flowers in the woods? Why can’t I speak? And finally, why can’t I use my magic? Then a horrible dread came to him: Am I dead? He then realized that he wasn’t breathing at all. And yet, he was still able to move his legs and feel the ground and soft grass underneath him. So what is going on?

Then he realized what it was with one final question: Why is there a breeze on a portion of my neck that that shouldn’t have any? With that one thought, he raised his right forelimb up, reaching for where he knew his head should be, and found that it wasn’t, instead, his hoof came to a stop when it came into contact with what was now the stump of his neck. His head was completely gone!

He had pride in his brain and his face, so poison joke made him a headless horse that was unable to die.

He began to panic, he tried in vain to yell for help, for somepony to please wake him up from this horrible nightmare! But of course, with no mouth, no one heard him. And he couldn’t wake up from this nightmare, because it was reality.

He suddenly had the idea that if he searched around in the area, he’d find where his head landed when it fell off, and could re-attach it to his neck. He searched the frantically for it, but never found it. Then he remembered that pain in his head that he felt before he came to and realized that he no longer had a head. He then realized that that pain didn’t feel anything like his head being severed, but more like his head being erased from reality completely. It was gone for good. No ever getting it back.

He sat down, and wept (or at least he would have, if he had eyes, so it was more along the lines of wallowing in misery). He reflected on his old life, the one that was full of light and sound, that he could never go back to. He reflected on his achievements in life, on his parents, the friends he’d made, but mostly on his dear Courage.

Although, back then, there was disharmony between the three pony races, he couldn’t help himself from falling in love with that wonderful pegasus, and she falling right back. It was a bit of a cliché, but it was love at first sight. As he had once said on the subject: “Falling in love is like a bolt of lightning. You never know where or when it’s going to strike.” They had both shared the same hope that, if their two families became one, their races might start to get along.

It should be noted, that several of his fellow unicorns had secretly held a meeting together to put a stop to the wedding, and placed a curse upon the two of them. Around the same time the poison joke made him lose his head, Courage was soaring through the sky, pulling off fancy stunts, when suddenly, she her wings disappeared, and she fell 1,000 feet to her death in a cornfield below.'

Of course, he had no way of knowing this.

As Smarty Pants sat there, remembering her, his hoof came into contact with what felt like a flower. The same flower that he had intended to give to her. And then he realized the connection between the flower and the loss of his head. He was so stupid to not have recognized that plant as poison joke! He knew that there was a cure for the effects of poison joke, an herbal bath of some sort. If he could get back into town, and somehow let the ponies know what caused this, he could have that life back, and still be able to marry Courage. Or at least that’s what he had hoped for anyway.

Before he went in search for the way back into town, he considered how he could let them know, without a mouth, that it was poison joke that caused this, so ponies wouldn’t run away from him in fear, instead of helping him. He decided he would have to take the flower with him somehow, but he still had to consider how he would manage to do that. Eventually he decided simply to stuff its stem down his own exposed windpipe. And with that, having decided earlier that if he walked far enough in any direction, he’d get out of the woods eventually, he got up and began to walk forward.

And tripped on a root, and would have landed face-first into the ground if he had one. He realized another thing he was going to miss: being able to cry “Ooof!” or “Owch!” whenever he injured himself. He picked himself up from the ground, and continued on.

Very soon, he began to notice his sense of feel, which was the only sense he had left, had increased greatly. He was able to feel his surroundings, like everything around him was giving off an aura that he could now sense. He was able to tell which direction the wind was coming from and which direction he was facing just from the feel of the wind itself (so he started to walk in the direction he now knew as west, for these woods were east of his home town).

He walked for what felt like hours, still hadn’t entered town yet, and it was getting dark. So, he lay down in a ditch and tried to get some rest. He didn’t bother looking for food, since he didn’t have a mouth anymore and so couldn’t eat.

That night was the beginning of the very long, brutal winter, of which the pegasi had no control over, and further discorded relations amongst the three races. This winter was caused by creatures, called Windigos, which bring winter storms with them wherever they go, and strive off disharmony amongst ponies. Because this happened on the same day, it is now believed, that if the unicorns hadn’t put the curse upon the two lovers, the Windigos wouldn’t have shown up at all.

This just made headless Smarty even more miserable than before. He was freezing so badly, he was numb all over, with the exception of a horrible pain in his groin. If he was wondering how he wasn’t dead without a head before, he was now wondering as to how he hadn’t frozen to death.

Eventually, he did somehow get some sleep. And he dreamt about Courage seeing him like this. He was still able to see her and hear her, even though, even in the dream world, he had no head. She was in tears, and there was blood in her beautiful blue face and rainbow mane.

“Oh, Smarts, my love,” she said to him, “what have they done to you?” “Smarts” was a nickname she came up with and always called him by. She gave him a tight hug. “I can’t believe that, even though you’re the one who lost their head, you’re still alive. And yet I’m the one who lost two limbs and died. I guess we’re both just cursed to never be with each other in the afterlife.”

Smarty Pants glanced down at Courage’s back, she no longer had her wings. He wanted to cry. He wanted to say to her everything that was going through his mind, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Yes, you can,” she said to him, as if reading his thoughts. “This is a dream, so you can do anything, even if it makes no sense.”

He hesitated before saying: “If this is a dream, does that mean that you’re not really dead, but only just in my mind or something?”

“Um, no, I really am dead in the real world. It just seems that you are now somehow able to communicate with the dead in your dreams.”

He began to sob. “Oh, I’m really sad to hear that. Plus, I was kind of hoping that this dream was only just some kind of philosophical or symbolical interpretation of how I was feeling at the moment. But it’s real. You’re dead. Why, oh, why am I cursed not to be there with you?”

“We can’t be together for real. Not while you’re awake. But we can still see each other in your sleep. For however long you have left to live. If ever you die, we’ll be reunited.”

“Why can I only see you in this dream, Courage?” All he could see around him besides her is just a thick, white, dreamy mist.

“One cannot see anything or anypony in this place, unless they are seeing them, or have seen them before with their own eyes.”

They spent that night further conversing with each other, until a huge glob of snow from a tree fell from above the place in which Smarty Pants was sleeping, and he woke up with a start as the snow landed on top of him. He wanted to scream at the pegasi for waking him from a dream that he never wanted to wake up from. He was somehow able to tell that it was sometime in the afternoon.

Since then, he has been a lone wanderer, lost in a private world of darkness, with neither sight, nor sound, nor smell, nor speech. He never starved, even though he never ate, nor die due to lack of nutrition. He has made several attempts to end his miserable existence (throwing himself off cliffs, jumping into white water rapids that were filled with sharp rocks, etc.), all of which utterly failed, because, as he soon realized, he was unable to die. His dream visits with Courage were the only thing that he had to look forward to in life.

And then one day, two hundred years later, he didn’t even have that anymore. She stopped coming to him. The night that he found that she wasn’t there, he woke up wishing that he could cry.

The Headless Horse is not a monster. He is not a killer. He is not even a dead pony. He is the loneliest, most depressed, and miserable immortal in all of creation. He doesn’t wish to harm anypony. The only wish he has is for one night, just one night in his entire lonely eternal life in which he didn’t spend all alone.

So, if you ever see the Headless Horse in person. Don’t be fear him, instead pity him. Don’t scream, instead shed a tear or two for him, because he is unable to do so himself. Don’t run away from him, instead go to him. Be the one to give him that one night he very much longs for.

Wrap your forelegs around his stump of neck; stroke his back, anything you can to get the message through to him that you’re somepony who cares. Get him to lie down in a clearing, and wrap a blanket around him, if you have one. Let him keep it, as well. Leave him only to get some firewood, and make a fire for the two of you. Keep constant physical contact with him, since that is the only way that he’ll know that you’re still there. When you decide to sleep, lie down next to him, in a spot and position in which both your bodies are touching.

If you were hoping for any sign of satisfaction, or joy from him, you won’t get it, for he is unable to express himself very well. But rest assured, he would be the happiest he’d been for thousands of years. He just won’t hop up and down with joy, due to how obviously hazardous doing so would be for both of you.

He certainly wouldn’t have known your name, what you looked like, or the things you may have said to him, but he wouldn’t care. Of all the days and nights in which he’s spent all alone, with the only other ponies he’s met judging him before they even get to know him, there would have been one night, just one night in which somepony cared about him. And that’s all that he would care about. That somepony cared.

And that would make all the difference in his world.