The Small, Gray Horse

“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.