Fear.
It is a curious thing.
All have felt it.
Few know it.
And most will try to appear strong while facing it.
But there is one fear, so strong, so terrible that the strongest among us are reduced to children before its power.
This fear is the most curious of all.
For all its power, and all its might, the masses will line up and wait their turn to experience it.
One soul is doing so now.
He is sitting, calmly, in a brightly lit room. His loved one sits by his side. She feels no fear, she knows that she is safe. But he can feel the fear, that cold gnawing inside him as he awaits what will become of him. He hides it, but with each ticking second of the clock on the wall, his apprehension grows.
Then it comes for him. Through the door, into the room, steps the white-clad harbinger his of fate.
He feels relief, knowing that his wait is over.
He feels new fear, knowing that his wait is over.
He reaches over to touch the one beside him one last time. One last moment before resigning himself to his fate.
He stands and solemnly approaches the figure in white as it begins to speak.
"Mr. Macintosh? The dentist will see you now."
"Eeyup."
"Have fun, Mac," said the mare behind him.
"Thanks Rainbow."
Mac followed the nurse through the door, and Rainbow went back to reading her magazine.