Congratulations, you're a guardian
I suppose to start it all off I should state a few things. First off, I didn't know anything about Equesria before the letter. Second, my father and I have never been close. The fact that I got a letter from him was just as strange as the idea of talking candy colored ponies. And finally, it never once entered my mind that I'd have a herd to protect.
Now that I have gotten that out of the way, let me begin my story.
My name is Mike. Mike Jackson. Yeah, I got teased about that in middle school. I'm 27 and a dishwasher for the Cheesecake Factory. Let me tell you, it's one of the hardest, most thankless jobs I've ever done in my life, not to mention the filthiest. Most days I come home stinking like sewage, but hey, that's life for you. You have to do crappy jobs to get by in this economy.
So, on one fateful night, after closing at 1:30 am, I stumble into my small, one bed, one bath apartment and sank into the computer chair. It was one of my nicer pieces of furniture at my place. It was steal at a thrift store, otherwise, I couldn't afford the black leather, swivel chair. It was then that I noticed a letter on the desk, near my keyboard.
That was odd. I didn't get the mail on the way in, did I? Most nights I was too tired to do much more than shower, watch a youtube video or two and head off to bed. Picking up the envelope, I looked at the address.
Mike Jackson.
That was all. It didn't have the address of my apartment, nor did it have an address from who sent it. It kinda creeped me out, but I was curious at the same time. Curious because I knew that hand writing for some reason. With a shrug I ripped open the white envelope and pulled out the single folded up sheet of paper.
'Dear Mike,
It's been a long time since I've heard from you or even I've seen your face. I wish I could say all this in person, but that is not possible. I'm sorry. I wish I could have been in your life more. From the moment I first held you in my arms, saw your tiny face, I knew that my life would never be the same. Even though you were but a baby, you taught me so many things that still affect me to this day. And yet, I walked away from that. At first, I thought I had no choice, but when I discovered that I was wrong, that I could come back, I choose not to. Even if I felt that I chose correctly, I regret what could have been, had I came home again, and became your dad.'
I stared at the letter. What was this?! What was this crap?! My father was writing me, after nearly twenty years of silence. Anger seethed through me, but something kept me reading the letter, instead of ripping it up on the spot.
'Maybe your mother was right about me, that I just keep stumbling from mistake to mistake. She's quite an intuitive woman. I still miss her. But, my son, despite all the mistakes I've made in my life, you are not a mistake. Even if I cannot see you now, or never see you for the remainder of what life they say I have now, I believe that you have become a strong, honest, caring man that I know your mother raised you to be. The kind of man I should have taught you to be. Even as I live with the shame of turning my back on you all those years ago, I live my life with a hope that you will become a better man than me.'
My throat seemed to swell with unwanted emotion as my brain took all this in. Part of me felt like an eight year old who was happy just to hear daddies voice, but I shunned that part of me, feeling the burn of anger and resentment for what the coward had done. He just up and left us one day. Mom didn't say why, even though I had questioned her most of my life about it. Even though she claimed she didn't know, the hardness in her eyes said differently. I bet she thought he ran off with some younger woman, but after fifteen years of asking, I finally let it drop, and tried to move on with my life the best I could, which isn't really saying much.
'I know you must have asked why I left your mother' well no shit. 'I even wonder why I gave up the best thing that had happened in my life, but I did. I can't turn back and undo what I did. But, son, that's not why I've written this letter.'
Oh its not? Then the bastard had better have a good reason for stirring up some pretty painful memories.
'Mike, I've been diagnosed with cancer of the lungs. It's terminal.They gave me eight months to live. That was seven months ago.'
My heart stopped. Dad? Cancer? Seven months ago?
'For reasons I hope you'll understand one day, and maybe even find it in your generous heart to forgive me for, I had to set my personal affairs in order before sending you this, and I'm sorry that it had to be this way. I would explain more, but that would only cause more confusion. At the bottom of this letter is a seal. All you have to do is place your hand on it and you'll understand.
I hope to see you before I pass, but if not, goodbye son. I've always loved you and missed you all my life.
James Jackson'
Stunned I looked at the blazing sun crest at the bottom of the letter. Tentatively, I reached out my my hand to touch it. I paused before I put my hand on it. What was I doing? Here I got a tear jerking letter from my father, that explained nothing, and now I was just going to take his word that touching a shiny bit of tinfoil was going to make me understand something that he can't just come out and say?
I got up and tossed the letter on the table. I was too tired for this crap. After a quick shower, I headed off to bed. That would have been the end of it, but I couldn't sleep. For some stupid reason, reading the letter that my father had written to me had gotten under my skin. Even more was what he said about the seal. Really what was the harm in just touching it? I mean, what was the worst that could happen? Nothing. What would probably happen? Nothing. So what did I have to lose? Nothing. That seemed right.
But then there was the whole problem of how the letter got there in the first place. The only person who had keys to my apartment was the land lord, and he'd never come in to place a simple letter. It just didn't make sense, but the more I tried to not think about it, the more my mind raced about it. With a groan, I threw off my blanket and walked over to to the table, talking to myself, as I sometimes do.
“Okay, we're going to touch the stupid thing, nothing will happen, and we're going back to bed.” It seemed simple enough. “Absolutely nothing is going to happen, got it? Nothing what so ever.” Picking up the paper, I placed my hand to hover over the seal. “Nothing....Nothing will happen.”
Then why was I so unnerved about it? It didn't make sense. This was so stupid. I pressed my hand against it, subconsciously bracing myself.
“There...Nothing is ha-” My hand sank through the seal. “What the-” The sinking hand pulled the rest of my body through, like the crest was a vacuum of some kind. It happened so suddenly and fast that the last thing I remembered was feeling weightless before all went black.
Pain. My body was in pain, but mostly my head. What had happened?
“Shhh, he's coming around.” Someone whispered.
“He looks cute.” Another whispered back in a girlish giggle. “Is he the new guardian?”
“If not I'll take him~”
“And start your own herd? Don't be silly.”
“Girls! If I have to tell you both quiet down again, I'll kick you both out on your tails.”
Slowly I opened up my eyes. The world around me was blurry, like I had sleep in my eyes. A few blinks later and the room I was in started to come into focus. I was laying on my stomach, being eyed at by two...ponies? That's not right. I blinked again, and sure enough they were ponies. One was dark blue with a snow white mane, and the other was a light coffee color with a red mane.
For the record, I don't do drugs, though I'd had a few really weird dreams in the past. Maybe this was one of my weirder dreams. Yes, that was it. It was fine. I'd ride this out until I woke up and- Something touched my side. The touch was hard and cold. Of crap this wasn't a dream! With a yelp, I sat up and scooted back against the wall.
“Wha-What's going on?!” Looking around I spotted a third pony who was green with a yellow mane. “Ho-”
“Calm down.” The green one spoke calmly, putting up a hoof. “It's okay.”
“Like hell it's okay!” I was panicking. “I'm surrounded by horses who talk! That's not natural!”
“We're ponies, not horses.” The coffee coated equine snorted.
It all didn't make sense to me. How could this be real? I had touched something on a stupid letter from my father who had left twenty years ago, and now I was in a room with three talking ponies, each of various colors. Did I fall and hit my head or something? Was I hallucinating?
“Girls, you're scaring him.” The green one grumbled, pushing the other two towards the door. The door!
I lunged for it, feeling my fight or flight senses taking over. Before I could reach the door, the door opened up, revealing a pony unlike the others. First off, she had a horn. A very sharp horn that made me stop dead in my tracks. Her coat was deep red rose with a light purple mane that seemed to complement her blue eyes.
“Oh. You're awake. Good. Follow me.” She turned and started trotting off, leaving me with a myriad of emotions to run through me. With the other three mares behind me, I had little choice but to follow her.
Turns out that I was in a house of some kind. Because I was distracted by the colorful, four legged creatures around me, I didn't realized that there was an odd assortment of furniture placed about the wide space. Most of if looked like throw pillows and small tv tray tables, for ponies use I guessed, with some chairs that were clearly meant for humans. A quick look told me there was no electricity, nor running water.
Oh how much I wish this was a dream. A very real feeling dream. I don't think I could survive without in house plumbing.
The rose colored unicorn led me to a room, where a man, in his early fifties it looked like, was in bed, surrounded by four other ponies, each sitting on the far side of the bed, teary eyed. The man, who till now had his eyes closed, opened them at the sound of our arrival. He smiled softly at the rose mare, holding out a hand to her, which she practically galloped to, nuzzling it affectionately. Then his eyes shifted to me. I knew those eyes. Those green eyes, that I hadn't seen for so long. His face broke into a smile. A weak, but joyous smile.
“Mike,” His voice was deep and raspy, as if each breath hurt. “Son. How glad I am to see you one more time.”
Something deep inside me wished he wouldn't look at me that way. Tears filled his eyes, like I was the most precious thing in the world, in his world that was now falling apart. I didn't want to move, but the nudge in the small of my back pushed me forward towards the beside. I didn't know what else to do. I knelt down beside this dying man, who was my father, and held his hand.
“I'd like to tell you everything,” He wheezed, “but as you can see, I'm a little short on breath.” His chuckle turned into a wracking cough. The ponies around him looked at him, ears drooping. “But, Rose here will fill you in on the important stuff.”
Rose's ears dropped at this. She looked pitiful like that, staring at the man, plainly wishing that he didn't have to die. He let go of my hand and patted her head.
“It's okay Rosey. I'm sure Mike will take care of you all better than I could. Maybe even find you a nice stallion to have some foals with.”
A silent shock of electricity ran through me. Take care of them? Me?
The man looked to me, holding out his hand again. “Mike, this is important, please lean forward.” Confused, I did. He placed his shaky hand on my forehead. “I, James Jackson, guardian of this herd, to give my blessing to you, Mike Jackson, my son, and charge you with the responsibility and duty to protect this herd with your life. Treat them well, and they will respect you as they respected me, and give you their love and trust. Never betray them. This is my last act as their guardian, and my only request as the father you never had.”
I felt something. Something in my heart. I was touched, yet...I felt...betrayed. All my life, as long as I could remember, I had only the vaguest knowledge of my father. Now that I had the chance to meet him, to confront him for leaving, to ask him so many questions I had, he only shifted his responsibility to me.
The hand on my head slipped off, to the bed with a soft thump. Looking up, I saw his glassy eyes staring at me. The man had passed from this life, and from the smile on his face, he had left in peace.
All around the bed, the candy colored ponies began to cry and whinny at the loss of someone important. Someone they loved. Pangs of jealousy pricked at my heart, as I stood, feeling like a stranger at the deathbed of my own parent. Without a word, I left the room, trying to figure out just what the hell happened and how was I going to get out of it. What did I know about taking care of ponies?
