Big Macintosh,
I need a ride. I’m writing you this letter so that you may know that I NEED A RIDE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CELESTIA! Your sister Applejack can handle the fields for the few days it will take you to reach me in Canterlot. Lucky, Noteworthy and Caramel have long since continued without me and I am very much alone, in spirit. None of the guards will listen to my pleas, and I need to get as far away from the shore as possible. I need to return to good old Ponyville where the grass is green and the ocean is really, very far away.
I suppose I should explain. As you recall the boys and I had embarked on a road trip to celebrate Noteworthy’s birthday. You declined our offer to join us for the very reason I fear you will not come and GET ME PLEASE COME AND GET ME!
Sorry, I am very shaken by the events that have recently transpired. If only we hadn’t gotten separated after stopping by Pony Joe’s! (I shall never drink again! Nor shall I partake of the old powdered loop!)
After a rough night of celebration I found myself separated from my companions. I knew where to meet them but I didn’t have much money, so in my search for the cheapest mode of travel I learned of a certain caravan. It would be a detour through Innshorsesmouth, but it was all I could afford. THERE WAS A REASON IT WAS SO CHEAP!
Please, Macintosh, my friend, do not think me mad. What I am about to convey I experienced in the sober light of day. Never before have I known how merciless the light can be when asked to dissuade a pony’s fears. When I think of tales of terror they always occur at night, during the witching hour when the darker bits of the world feel free to roam. We are accustomed to the idea that Celestia’s sun will protect us from our less reasonable fears. I know the truth of the world now, Macintosh. It isn’t reasonable.
The old man who informed me of the caravan hinted at it. He told me about the people’s prejudice towards the folks of Innshorsesmouth. I’d heard that there were more houses than ponies there; that it’d been a city before the war. Now there wasn’t even a railroad. He said the town’s only source of revenue was the gold refinery owned by Old Stallion Marsh. He told me of the epidemic that had killed off most of the citizens. But what could have warned me was the one thing I was right to have ignored.
Nopony liked folks from Innshorsesmouth because they looked funny. That sounded like prejudice to me; not liking folks because they were different looking. He told me he thought it was because Old Stallion Marsh’s grandfather used to bring back foreign ponies from overseas and got their blood all mixed. He was definitely a racist, I could tell. But though his reasoning was wrong, woe is me for not listening to the old bastard! The bus driver had such an unnerving face. I felt bad for being so disgusted at a pony’s appearance, but let me tell you that those ponies were no ponies! Well, not entirely.
In the maddening night that followed I learned full well of Innshorsesmouth’s true history. I learned of the shadows that gather at Devil’s Reef, and of myself. There’s a dark reasoning behind the gold out there, Mac; a darkness daylight wouldn’t hide.
I will tell you more upon my return; my unsteady hoof is making writing difficult. Please, Mac, come and fetch me. I haven’t the funds to return on my own, nor the strength. I still have much to live for here on the surface, many things to look forward to: my friends, the girl I like, popping balloons. I dreamt of a shoggoth. Do you know what that is? Please do not tell anypony of this letter. I don’t want anypony to think I’m crazy, or worse, to think I’m sane.
Desperately Urgent,
Pokey Pierce