Painted Horses

by Alaborn

Chapter 1: Painted Horses

Painted Horses

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Chapter 1: Painted Horses

---

My head throbbed. My eyes felt gritty. I blinked, looking into a sky painted an ominous orange-red. Dark shadows covered the ground. I tried to stand, but fell down, landing on my hooves.

Hooves? I looked, seeing dark green hooves and an olive green coat. I cautiously raised one to my head, tapping the horn jutting from my forehead. I was a unicorn again. I felt for my magical core, trying to form a light to better illuminate the scene.

“We can’t have that, now can we?”

The sinister voice sent chills down my spine. A shock of pain coursed through my body, starting from my horn, as I felt the magic being blocked. I started to rise off the ground. I flailed my legs, but could no longer find purchase.

“Who’s there?” I shouted.

“I think you know, Jonathan Lockhart.”

I looked around, but didn’t see anything. I felt some force grab my head and keep it still. I tried to blink, but my eyes wouldn’t close.

“Look around you.”

I looked, but didn’t see anything, just the ominous sky. Then I saw the patterns in the sky. They shaped mismatched animal parts, the claw of an eagle, the paw of a bear, the antler of a deer.

“No! We stopped you!”

“Do you really think you could win? One battle, yes, but I have all the time in the world.”

I saw a giant clock tower, like Big Ben, appear in front of me. I flew up until I faced the hour hand, and the same force turned me around and bound me to the hour hand. Behind me, the second hand rotated faster than it should, and the minute hand started completing its circuit. I was almost upright, suggesting the clock was counting down to midnight.

The second, minute, and hour hands met, and the bell tolled, just once, a low tone that vibrated the air around me. Everything shook until the clock shattered, and I was left, floating in the air, suspended in a foul miasma. In the distance, I saw ponies like me, similarly trapped.

“So glad you’re here to witness my victory, John.”

In the distance, I saw the world fall apart. Terrain twisted and buildings inverted. At first, I saw buildings that I recognized from Equestria. But then I saw others. The apartment complex where I lived. The campus where I worked. The old house my parents called home.

I tried to scream, but my body refused to respond.

---

I felt a thump, and woke from the nightmare, its details still vivid in my mind. I heard the whine of engines and the roar of the wind as the airplane decelerated on the runway. I blinked and looked around. I was in my normal body, and outside I saw what looked like a normal airport.

“Delta would like to be the first to welcome you to Tampa International Airport,” the flight attendant’s voice sounded over the speakers. “The local time is 9:52 AM. Please remain seated until the aircraft comes to a complete stop. You may now use cell phones, but laptop computers and other large electronic devices....”

I tuned out the rest of the announcements as I pondered my nightmare. Seven and a half years earlier, while a student in community college still uncertain about what he was going to do with his life, I found myself pulled through a magic portal into a strange world called Equestria, populated by magical ponies, where I found myself turned into a unicorn. My presence there was part of a plot orchestrated by a powerful immortal spirit named Discord, or rather a corrupted version of him who I would later hear called Malice. I, and six other humans in the same boat, fought this monster until a group of heroic ponies could use their magic to seal him away.

Needless to say, that experience affects a person. For a good two months, I would often have nightmares, where I faced this monster and couldn’t find a way to stop him. It was a terrible feeling, especially knowing there was no one with whom I could talk about it. Pretending it didn’t happen didn’t work. Eventually, I wrote down everything that had happened, printed it, and sealed it away in an envelope. The nightmares finally stopped.

What was strange, I realized, was that I should have dreamed about it again. The first time was when I learned the world of ponies I had seen was remarkably similar to the one shown in a cartoon that didn’t start airing until two years later. The second time was when I went back to Equestria, following a good-intentioned but foolish friend through a different magic portal. Neither time did I dream about the world, or Malice, or being a unicorn.

So what had triggered the nightmare?

Sure, I was tired, a natural consequence of rising in time to catch a 6:00 AM flight. But it’s not like any of the many all-nighters I pulled in college brought about a return of this nightmare.

I shook my head. Just like before, I would put it out of my mind.

I texted my parents. “Just landed; need to go to baggage claim.”

“Be there in 30” was the response.

The airport was crowded; not surprising, as it was two days before Christmas. I had come to Florida for the same reason I did every three years or so, to spend the holidays with my paternal grandparents. Grandpa made it his life goal to retire to Florida, which he did; my grandparents moved to one of those 55+ senior communities when he retired.

When I was younger, telling my Indiana friends I was spending the holidays in Florida attracted a few jealous responses. Little did they know. My grandparents retired to Ocala, which is nothing like what people picture when they think of Florida. There’s no beach; the city is in the middle of the state. It’s not particularly warm in December; I’ve even woken up to frost on the lawn. The city residents worry about sinkholes, not hurricanes. It’s pretty far from the amusement parks; the city looks like generic suburban sprawl. The climate is not suitable for growing oranges; Ocala is known for raising horses.

Horses are something I didn’t want to think about at that moment.

I’d rather think about Christmas. This was the first time I hadn’t ridden with my parents to Florida. And for that, I was thankful. Dad was used to having two weeks off around the holidays, so he made the drive slowly, driving for maybe six hours, then stopping at some local tourist trap and cheap motel. I’d done that trip far too often. I told my parents I couldn’t do that as well as spending time with my friend Jason.

Dad said he understood; he was once the new guy. But my job didn’t put any seniority restrictions on vacation. I just didn’t want to waste so much time.

Jason was driving down after Christmas to vacation somewhere warm with his girlfriend, and he invited me to join them. We chose Tampa Bay because it was cheaper than Miami, a shorter drive, and convenient to picking me up in Ocala. We risked colder weather, but fortunately the weather forecast was good.

Jason happens to be the foolish friend who voluntarily jumped through a portal to Equestria three years ago. And he now lives there most of the year.

Did I mention his girlfriend is an Equestrian native?

So while it’s odd that I was invited as the third wheel, I’m probably the only person on Earth who knows the truth about them, so when it comes to travel companions, I’m just about it.

My suitcase finally arrived, and I pulled it behind me as I exited the terminal. I scanned the approaching traffic; taxis, shuttle buses, and cars all fought for limited curb space. After about ten minutes, my father squeezed into the space left by a departing taxi.

Dad popped the trunk, and I threw by bags inside. Mom stepped out to give me a hug. I got in the car, and we began the drive to Ocala.

I didn’t have time to think about my nightmare as the drive was consumed by our mundane conversations. We talked about how our respective trips went, what we’ve done recently, and current events. I was just happy the drive was only an hour and a half long.

We finally reached our destination, the nondescript home in a nondescript community where my grandparents have lived for most of my life. By the time we made it to the front door, our luggage in hand, they had the front door open. There was no way to avoid the incoming hugs and kisses; while they weren’t quite as bad as the stereotypical movie grandparents, they were still a lot more physical than I liked.

“Eat up, we’ve got plenty of food,” Grandma said.

“But not too much; we’re going out for a nice dinner tonight,” Grandpa added.

They had the normal spread of party food, reminding me of larger family gatherings. And just because there were only five of us didn’t mean there was less food. Deviled eggs; carrot and celery sticks with dip; crackers, sausage, and cheese; and Swedish meatballs were all waiting for us. And after a breakfast consisting of a bag of pretzels, I was grateful for the abundance of food.

I heard the sound of a deck of cards being shuffled. “You all ready?” Grandpa said.

I smiled; I knew we’d be playing some euchre. Grandma and Grandpa complained that no one played it in their community, and so we always played when we visited, or when they visited us. The three of us swapped out as one team while my grandparents made up the other team. Cards provided the perfect setting for us to talk and catch up with my grandparents. They had a very active social life in their community.

I suspect the reason they didn’t have anyone else wanting to play euchre was that they were so good.

I used the time when I wasn’t playing cards to wrap my gifts. As a family, we limited ourselves to one gift per person, and for me, I had to find something small. Even though none of us really needed anything, I still enjoyed the process of finding that perfect little gift.

“Your turn, John,” my mother called from the dining room.

I placed my presents under the tree and took my seat at the table.

---

At 4:00, we all squeezed into Grandpa’s car to go to dinner. We drove to downtown Ocala, a part we hadn’t visited that often. And despite the jokes about retirees and their early bird specials, our dinner wasn’t until 5:30. My grandparents wanted to go early so that we could see the decorations downtown.

The town did a good job of decorating for the holidays, with some impressive displays of Christmas lights. But my eyes kept getting drawn to the painted horses. I’d seen them before, of course; they were introduced in 2001, before my grandparents had moved there. They were roughly life-sized fiberglass sculptures of horses, not painted to resemble horses, but which local artists had used as unique canvases, though often showing scenes that were horse-related. It was something done to benefit local charities and give the downtown some unique charm. Each stood in a little wrought iron enclosure.

I felt a shiver. It was like the horses were looking at me. I shook my head; that nightmare really got to me.

Grandma noticed I was looking at the painted horses. “Did you see the one our community got?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“It’s right past the entrance!” she said.

“It’ll be too dark to see it by the time we get back. If the weather’s good, let’s go for a walk tomorrow, and we’ll show it to you.”

“Now, where’s the restaurant?” my father said.

That’s my father, always focusing on what’s important.

My grandparents had picked a nice local steakhouse for dinner. I don’t know how good it was compared to other steakhouses, but it sure beat the kind of restaurants where I normally ate. We ate our fill, including dessert, and had plenty of leftovers to take home.

Sure enough, it was too dark to see the painted horse when we returned. We went inside and retired to the living room, with drinks and classic Christmas movies. The early start to my day left me tired, and I turned in early, praying I would not experience any more nightmares.

---

“Twilight, you have a visitor,” Spike called.

Princess Twilight Sparkle poked her head out of the bedroom. “Coming!”

Twilight Sparkle idly wondered who was visiting. She didn’t have any plans, and the fact that Spike didn’t say who it was suggested it was somepony Spike didn’t know well.

She came down the stairs, seeing the pony waiting for her. “Oh, hi, Bon Bon! I thought you’d be in your shop.”

“The shop’s closed. I’m coming to you in your role as princess. We have a problem, and we need to talk.”

Twilight Sparkle nodded, and escorted Bon Bon to a small sitting room. They sat in overstuffed chairs, facing each other.

Bon Bon leveled her gaze at Twilight Sparkle. “Lyra is missing,” she said. There was no emotion in her words, but it failed to hide the worry she felt.

“Of course, we’ll let the Mayor know, and we’ll do everything we can to find her,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Are you sure it isn’t just Lyra being Lyra?”

“Princess, Lyra may be a mare with fanatical obsessions, but one thing she’s never done is run off on some crazy quest without telling me,” she replied. “Let me be clear on one thing. I’m not coming to you as Bon Bon.”

Twilight Sparkle just nodded.

“I’ve heard things from my former associates. Ponies are disappearing, with no signs of a struggle and no witnesses. Word is the princesses have used the most powerful magic available to find missing ponies, and even that has failed. I’ve even heard from an old rival from the griffon lands. There’s also a griffon missing; she was trying to determine if ponies were involved.

“I went into Lyra’s secret room after I realized she was missing. Her conspiracy theorist friends are talking about this, too. I read through their correspondence. They’ve speculated the rate of disappearances is increasing.

“I can understand if the princesses don’t want to talk about this, but I know you will be taking action. I was willing to leave this all behind, but now it’s personal. I want in, and I’ll pull every favor I have to make sure I’m in.”

Twilight Sparkle nodded slowly. “Yes, we know about this, Special Agent Sweetie Drops. Yes, we’re doing everything we can to find them. Yes, we’re keeping quiet. We don’t want ponies to be afraid. But believe me when I say there’s nothing for you to be ‘in’ on. We have no leads for any of these disappearances.

“Lyra is an old friend of mine. I will do anything I can to help find her. But for now, all we can do is treat this like a normal missing pony case. I’m sorry.”

“Call me when you’ve found anything.” Bon Bon donned her sunglasses, now thinking of herself as Sweetie Drops. “I have some training to do.”

---

I did not sleep well. Discord/Malice loomed over my dreams. Sometimes I was human, sometimes I was a unicorn. I was at home, or here, or in Ponyville. I was alone, or with friends, or with my family. It didn’t matter. The many branches of these dreams inevitably traced back to one path, the one where Discord restrained me and everyone else in the dream. I would wake with a start, finding it still dark. I tried thinking good thoughts, remembering how we defeated him, imagining new ways to fight, both magical and mundane. They didn’t work. I couldn’t direct my dreams in any meaningful way.

When I woke for the fifth or sixth time, the sky was just lightening with the first rays of the sun. I sighed and got up. I didn’t want to try to sleep again; I was sure I wouldn’t find any rest. Instead, I decided to clear my head by jogging.

I quietly dressed in my workout clothes and headed out into the pleasantly cool morning. The neighborhood was quiet, and I had the streets to myself. With only a passing familiarity with the neighborhood, I decided to stick to the main road, running to the entrance to the community and back until I tired.

When I reached the entrance, I saw the community’s painted horse. I didn’t notice it earlier, so I ran around it to get a better look. One side was painted with the image of a residential neighborhood, maybe this one, and the other showed a golf course. There was nothing special about the art, but if it was for a good cause, I couldn’t complain. I reached over and touched the painting.

help me

I pulled my hand back. I felt a throbbing pain in my head, maybe like a migraine, but the pain wasn’t behind my eyes; it was more like the top of my head. I sat down, waiting for the pain and my heavy breathing to pass.

Cautiously, I reached out to the painted horse again, but this time, I felt nothing. I don’t know what happened, but one thing was certain. I was awake now.

---

I did my best to conceal my exhaustion and worry as we celebrated the holiday. We watched our favorite Christmas movies, looked through old photo albums, and ate pretty much non-stop. And I indulged more than normal. Ever since the grandkids got old enough, family parties have included plenty of alcohol, and while I wasn’t a big drinker, this night I wanted to stumble into bed and enjoy a dreamless sleep.

It worked; I didn’t recall any dreams or nightmares when I awoke on Christmas. My head was throbbing, but a mild hangover was preferable to the alternative.

Christmas Day was always a calmer event in my family, quietly sharing in each other’s company. We had a long phone call with Mom’s family, enjoyed a nice homemade brunch, and played some more rounds of cards. By the end of the day, we were all getting tired, wanting to do something other than hang around the house. But spending these two days only with family was tradition.

Come bedtime, I was facing the prospect of the nightmares returning. But I had an idea.

“Grandma, do you have any cold medicine? It’s feeling like I’m starting to get a sore throat.”

“Aww. And right before your trip to the beach!” Grandma said. “Let me get you something.”

My grandparents had plenty of over-the-counter medicine in their bathroom closet. Grandma gave me a fresh bottle of cold and flu medicine, the good stuff with alcohol to help you sleep.

“Go ahead and take the bottle,” she said.

“Thanks, Grandma.”

A double dose of cold medicine later, I was dead to the world.

---

I got a call from Jason the next morning. “We’re about an hour over the border. We should be there around noon,” he said.

“Great,” I replied. “I’ll be ready then.”

I relayed the news to my parents. I had previously told them I’d be meeting Jason sometime that afternoon.

“How about we all go to lunch before you leave?” my father suggested. “My treat.”

I paused. I was of course acutely aware of the origin of Jason’s girlfriend, and the one time I had met her, she definitely struck me as odd. “Let me see if they’re up to it,” I said.

I went to another room and called Jason back. “My family wants to take you out to lunch before we go. Are you up for that?” I asked.

I heard muffled voices as Jason conferred with his girlfriend. After, he responded. “Let’s do it. It will be a good test,” he said. “Where are we meeting?”

A bit of back and forth, speaking alternately with my family and with Jason, and we had a time and place for lunch.

---

I squeezed into the middle of the back seat of my grandparents’ car again, bringing back memories of many Christmases past. Fortunately, it was only for a short trip, to the nearby chain deli restaurant.

“So how is Jason doing?” my mother asked.

“He seems a lot happier now,” I said.

“Is it the new girlfriend? Is she the one?”

I had mentioned to my parents Jason’s propensity to fall deeply for every new girlfriend, normally deciding they were “the one”. But Mom’s comment reminded me that I hadn’t heard Jason use that term. “I haven’t heard him say it this time. Maybe that’s a sign she’s really the one?”

“Is she a nice woman?” my father asked.

“I only met her once,” I said. I had to be careful here. “She was kind of shy, and I got the feeling she had a sheltered upbringing, so be kind to her.”

We pulled into the parking lot and got out. I looked for Jason’s car, only to see him step out of a SUV instead. A woman I’d met once before came out of the passenger side. She was plainly dressed and looked a little uncomfortable.

“Hey Jason. How was the drive?”

“Really long.”

We did the normal round of introductions; Jason introduced his girlfriend as Rose Turner. I remembered her pony name was Rose something or other.

Inside, Jason talked to Rose. “The menu items with a tomato by them are vegetarian,” he said.

Right. I didn’t even think of that.

We soon settled in with our variety of sandwiches, salads, and soups. Dad started the conversation by asking about how Jason’s trip went, and Mom quickly segued into asking about the couple.

“So you spent Christmas Day with Jason’s family?” my mother asked Rose.

“Yes. And Christmas Eve with mine,” she replied.

“Seems like a big step,” my mother said with a smile.

“It’s actually the first time I’ve spent part of Christmas with another family,” Jason said.

“So, how did you two meet?”

“At the farmer’s market,” Rose said. She nibbled on her grilled cheese sandwich.

“It was when I was working on the roads in Noble County,” Jason said. “It was a beautiful summer day, and we went to check out the farmer’s market down by the courthouse. First I noticed the beautiful roses, and then I noticed an even more beautiful Rose.”

So Jason was as cheesy as before. But Rose ate it up; she smiled and blushed.

“You grow flowers?” Dad asked.

“Roses?” Mom added.

“Yes, and roses are my favorite, but I mostly grow flowers for restaurants and other businesses, so I grow what they demand,” Rose replied. “I sell some overstock and a few vegetables from my garden on the side.”

“And I’m glad she did,” Jason said.

“Are you from there?” Mom asked.

“I live in Albion now, but I grew up in... LaGrange County,” Rose said. “I wanted to move out, live on my own.”

“I think that’s a lovely story. Sort of reminds me of how we met,” Grandma said to Grandpa. She looked to me. “But it sure would be nice to hear another story like that.”

I sighed. “I’m sure Mom will be the first to tell you when I find a girlfriend,” I said.

The conversation over lunch was pleasant. For the most part, Rose came off as a normal woman, perhaps a bit shy. But I watched her with curiosity. Her body language had a few quirks, like the way she tilted her head when she heard a question, or the way she would only motion with one hand, her fingers cupped together, while speaking. I actually remembered those behaviors from my time as a pony.

Eventually, it was time to go. I rose and gave my family members a hug. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation,” I told them.

“Thank you all for providing lunch,” Rose said.

“It’s time to hit the road,” Jason said.

I grabbed my bags from my grandparents’ car and loaded them into Jason’s. We got in, Jason and Rose in front, with me stretching out in the second row of seats. Jason started the car, and we departed.

“That went pretty well,” I said. “Did you rehearse that history on the way down?”

Jason nodded. “We did.”

“It wasn’t that hard to remember,” Rose said. “It was the true story of how we met, except with those human town names substituted for Ponyville.”

“We had plenty of time to practice our stories,” Jason said.

“A really long time,” Rose said. “I didn’t really appreciate how big this world was until we spent a day and a half driving faster than any train, and we still haven’t reached the coast.”

“Is that really a thing? The different size of the world?” I asked.

“I’m not sure exactly, but the planet is a lot smaller,” Jason said. “You can cross Equestria in two days by train, and that continent is roughly equivalent to North America in terms of share of land mass.”

“That’s more information than I need to know,” I said. As if to punctuate the point, I yawned.

“Busy night life in Ocala?” Jason quipped.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I said. “I had some bad dreams of Discord.”

He turned his head. “Is that normal?”

“No, not at all.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Okay, I guess.” While I didn’t think it was a big deal, I told him about the dreams I experienced, first on the plane, then in Ocala. Jason frowned when I mentioned self-medicating against the dreams, and when I was done, his frown intensified.

“Have you written to Twilight Sparkle about these dreams?” Jason asked.

“No. How could I?”

“The diary?”

“I don’t have it with me,” I said. The diary Jason was referring to was a book designed to allow communication between worlds, though I preferred to call it a journal. We both received one at the end of our last sojourn to Equestria. Mine was buried somewhere in a closet.

“You should always carry it with you,” Jason said.

I shrugged.

“Have you ever used it?”

“No,” I said. "Well, not in a long time."

“You met a woman who shared your interest in Harry Potter, and you didn’t want to talk to her?” Jason said.

We did, a little, but every time I wrote, I couldn't help but be reminded that what I was doing was impossible. I didn't want to be called crazy and locked up. “I’m sorry, but I’m not like you, Jason. I never wanted to experience going to another world. I would have been perfectly happy to live and die in this world, completely ignorant of the existence of Equestria!”

“Be that as it may, you know about Equestria. And the few of us out there who know of both worlds have a duty to keep both worlds safe. Any potential leak of magic into our world should be investigated. Did you encounter anything else that might be tied to Equestrian magic?”

“Well, there was this one thing,” I said. I described the painted horse in my grandparents’ community.

Jason signaled and moved into the exit lane.

“Why are we getting off?” I asked.

“We’re turning around,” Jason replied. “That painted horse you described really worries me. We’re going to check it out.”

---

An hour later, we were back in Ocala, in my grandparents’ neighborhood. We stood next to the painted horse. Jason eyed it critically.

“So you touched it, you faintly heard a whispered ‘help me’, and you felt a sharp pain in your head?” Jason asked.

“That’s about right,” I replied.

“Let me give it a try.” Jason placed his hand on the muzzle of the painted horse and closed his eyes. He didn’t flinch and pull back, like I did.

Jason opened his eyes and nodded. “Did you feel that throbbing pain here?” He pointed to the top of his head, a little forward.

“That’s right, somewhere around there,” I said. “Why?”

“I didn’t hear voices, but I felt something, too. It was only a slight tingle, but I know where I felt it.”

“Where?”

“The corpus monoceros,” Jason replied.

“Huh?”

“It’s the bundle of nerves that connects a unicorn’s horn to his brain.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not unicorns,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but our brains have been in unicorn bodies, brains we’ve used to use unicorn magic. It’s not unreasonable to think we’ve changed our brains, at least enough for Equestrian magic to form a connection.”

“I feel it too,” Rose said. She had taken off her sandals, and was walking barefoot in the grass around the painted horse. “Fear. Hurt. Loss. Powerful emotions have seasoned the earth. It’s faint, nothing like what I would feel back home, but it’s there.”

“I’m writing to Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Jason said.

“Wait. When did she become a princess?”

Rose happily related the story about how Twilight Sparkle saved Ponyville from some strange magic that changed ponies’ cutie marks, ending with her becoming an alicorn, and followed that up with some of her other exploits. Some of them were, frankly, terrifying. I really didn’t think ponies had it in them to battle across the land, throwing around enough magic to destroy mountains.

By this time, Jason had finished writing his message, and he was watching the cloth-bound book. I was about to make a quip about a watched pot when the book vibrated, and a pale blue glow leaked out from under the cover.

“What’s it say?” I asked.

“She wants to know where we are on Earth,” Jason replied.

“I’m guessing Ocala doesn’t mean anything to her,” I noted. “So, what, latitude and longitude?” I pulled out my phone and started looking it up.

“It still wouldn’t mean anything without a point of reference.”

“So, what point of reference does she have?”

We stood quietly. Then Jason pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “Got it.”

“What?”

“Portals!”

I looked over Jason’s shoulder as he wrote in his diary.

Can you provide the Earth address of three locations you know? For example, you know my address, because of the portal you open twice a week.

The response came quickly.

I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of other portals to your world. However, I can give you two other addresses in your world that I know.

“It’s pretty darn obvious that there are other people doing the same commute I am,” Jason said. “I don’t know why Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight Sparkle are so tight-lipped about it.”

Two addresses followed, one in Colorado Springs, the other in Albuquerque. With the power of Google, we converted each of these addresses to latitude and longitude, down to the second. For Ocala, we used whatever location the map used as the center of Ocala.

Calculating.

“This won’t take long,” Jason said.

Less than a minute passed before we got a response.

This place Ocala is very close to where the ritual directed the corrupted spirit of Discord. We can’t identify the exact location; I’ll spare the details, but that ritual worked different than the portal ritual with which you’re familiar. The magic you’ve described is worrisome, and I fear it may be related to some current problems we are experiencing in Equestria.

Find a location outdoors and away from prying eyes and send me the exact coordinates. You will meet a team of ponies there tonight at 11:00 PM.

Jason showed the message to me. “Do you have any idea where we can go?”

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“This wasn’t a request,” Jason replied. “Equestria is a principality. Subjects don’t get to say no to the princesses.”

“You’re a citizen of the United States, and we can say no.”

“Even given the choice, I would say yes,” Jason said. “What happened to the John who jumped through a portal to save me?”

“I didn’t want to,” I replied. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“From the dreams you described, a lot of people will get hurt,” Jason said. “Don’t you want to help them?”

“I do but... not this way.” I sighed. “Curse these ponies,” I muttered. “Fine. I’m in. Goodbye, vacation.”

---

Bon Bon’s Confections was quiet. Normally, the clip-clop of hooves would be heard as foals raced through the aisles, gazing hungrily at baskets of candy. And being just after Hearth’s Warming, there would be a larger number of foals there, each holding the bits given to them as gifts by relatives.

Instead, the shop was dark, the door was locked, and nopony stirred, not even after Princess Twilight Sparkle knocked several times. Time was of the essence, though, and the princess teleported inside.

Hearing nothing, she headed for the basement. The small area was stocked with supplies for Bon Bon’s candy making. Twilight Sparkle noticed a concealed door, now open, leading to another room, little more than a closet. She guessed it was Lyra’s secret room, given the illustrations and notes on mythical creatures that officially did not exist, creatures such as humans.

She suspected there was more to the basement, and a quick pulse from her horn revealed another room beyond the walls of the basement. A search found another concealed door, and Twilight Sparkle opened it.

As soon as the door opened, Twilight Sparkle heard noises, the hard thwack of wooden weapons and the grunting of a pony exerting herself. Sweetie Drops turned and thrust a spear in her direction, a feint to conceal the metal dart she hurled afterward. Twilight Sparkle summoned a shield, and the projectile bounced harmlessly off it.

Sweetie Drops gasped. “Princess! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to....”

“Relax. It’s my fault for not announcing myself,” Twilight Sparkle responded. She leveled her gaze at the mare. “Special Agent Sweetie Drops. You are being reactivated. We have a lead on the case of the missing ponies. Gather your gear and report to the castle at 10:00 this evening.”

Author's Note:

These painted horses are a real thing, and once I saw them, it created a story idea for an Earth-side story using the characters from my previous HIE stories.

Comments

[totallynotabrony]

euchre

Confirmed midwesterner.

[Alaborn]

7767371 Actually, were it my family, we would be playing sheepshead. Which just happens to be a game that plays best with five.

[Da Fennec]

Seen painted horses, elephants, giant golf balls just for a few

[Boulder]

Eventually, I wrote down everything that had happened, printed it, and sealed it away in an envelope.

typed

[Alaborn]

8126730 Whether by keyboard, pen, or quill, it's still the act of writing.

[Herald of Opera]

8126730
You are technically correct. Contrary to what you may have heard, this is actually the worst kind of correct. (By which I mean that first-person narration gets the same allowances as any other informal speech)