The Small, Gray Horse
A man sat alone in front of his computer in the dark of his room late one night in early March, trolling around on image boards. This man was rather filthy, wearing a grease-stained white t-shirt and sweatpants that clearly hadn’t been washed in weeks. One could practically see the stench of months without a shower coming off of him, and the gruff beard dawning his misshapen face says he hasn’t shaved since then either.
The desk top surrounding his computer was covered in chip bags and empty cans of Red Bull. The rest of his room was in a similar state of filth with trash strewn across the floor, bed sheets disheveled, and thick cobwebs coving the tops of the walls and corners of the room. It was very apparent that only he had come in or out of the room for quite a long time.
The man stops to take a swig of a half-empty Red Bull, when a soft ping alerts him to a new email. The Red Bull was left forgotten when the man sees it is from a college of his with the topic title “THIS IS DISGUSTING AND SHOULD BE STOPED”. He opens it to find only a link attached. Opening the link he finds the following article.
“THE 413th ANNUAL FOREST GUARDIAN FESTIVAL: This year’s Forest Guardian was held last Saturday to honor the ever present Ditsy Doo, who…”
At that point, he had stopped reading and was instead staring at the picture attached to said article. It was of a statue of a horse, a small gray pegasus to be more precise. The pegasus’s mane and tail were a straw-like blond, but caught his attention the most was its amber, wall-eyed stare.
That stare made his blood boil and his face contort into a sneer. How dare that horse be different! Doesn’t it know by being cross-eyed it will offend people with learning disabilities!?! He quickly replied to his college.
“Hans,
Thanks for bringing this abomination to my attention.
Notify the others that you are all to meet me at this forest in 3 days.
This will be our group’s biggest mission to date.
Infinitive Leader, Lonk Petchman”
Lonk leaned back in his chair, grinning maliciously. In his own sick, twisted mind, he was making a more tolerant place. He has never been more wrong about anything in his life
“Paralyzed Pony’s Log: Year 413; It has been exactly 413 years since I began my guardianship, or at least that’s what the banner says… Every year the humans come to celebrate the anniversary of the day I was pulled into their world. Queen Fausticorn had told me that I had been selected to be the stabilizer between Equestria and the world of the humans that day. She said that in order to preserve my magic, I had to become a statue and to never be removed from this forest.
“It’s usually boring here, but the festival the humans throw for me is always interesting to watch! The humans may not have any magic, but they make up for it with inventions they make, and I see new ones every festival. This time, it was an adult male human running around with a gun that sprayed water getting a lot of the other humans wet. He seemed to be having a lot of fun and so did some of the other humans too, but some of the other humans got really mad… I liked that human, he seemed really fun and his shorter friend always looked happy and was laughing all. I hope they come back to see me soon. End Log.”
Ditsy looked out into her forest and sighed mentally. She was so lonely sometimes that it hurt. She wished just once that humans could hear her like the forest could. She’d give anything for a friend.
She felt the now familiar magic of the forest embrace her in its own attempt to sooth her. She felt her self smile a little. the forest had some form of sentience in a way. But it's not like the forest can speak to her in Equish. She just needs somepony or -er somebody to talk to. A little something to tell the days apart by. Not much, but just some thing interesting. What she didn't know was that her life was about to get a lot more interesting.
Enter Red Sleeve and Cold Eye
“Awe man, the festival just keeps giving more and more awesome each year!” happily exclaimed the smaller of two men as they enter their shared apartment. Meet Jim Turner, a 5’ 6” bubbly, brunette man who’s also known by his code name, Red Sleeve; and his best friend and work partner, Matt Terry, A.K.A Cold Eye, a 6’ 2” somewhat lanky, black haired man with a Prankster Gambit so high leveled it would put even John Egbert to shame.
“Yeah dude, I had so much fun this year.” Matt replied fondly.
“That’s only because you ran around with a supersoaker, drenching everybody there.” Jim stated with a smirk as he elbowed his friend and went to sit on their couch.
“Ah, such wonderful memories” Matt replied before going to the kitchen. He opened to fridge and grabbed an apple juice before joining his buddy on the couch.
“I still don’t really understand why there’s a festival for a statue of a horse. I will admit, that thing is flipping adorable but still don’t get the whole festival thing.” He said as he put feet across Jim’s lap.
“I honestly can’t remember. I think my nanny said something about its presence stabilizing the barrier between this world and … somewhere else. Dude, I don’t know. I was 7 the last time I heard the story.” Jim said letting his head hit the arm rest. “Dude, I’m tired. See you in the morning.” He said suddenly getting up and walking out.
“ ‘Night bro.” Matt said with a quick wave before turning on the TV.
As Jim got in to bed, he got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that the things he couldn't remember were somehow important and that something terrible was about to happen because a lack of information.
If only he knew exactly how right he was.
