• Published 21st Nov 2021
  • 192 Views, 3 Comments

My Friend Pinkie Pie - Christianpony777

Long have I prayed for a friend, and finally, my prayers have been answered.

  • ...

The Prayer

I've been bounced between foster homes constantly, and none of them seem to want to adopt me. Sometimes they tell me that they're just doing it to look good around other people. Those are the most pleasant ones. They don't neglect me. Most of the time, I'm placed into foster homes that try to profit off me. Those ones were always the worst. Thank goodness none of them were physically abusive. But I was still miserable. The ones that used me for profit barely fed me, they never clothed me, instead forced me to wear the same set of clothes I always wore. Unfortunately, I was currently living on one of the foster homes that was using me for profit. The only non clothing possessions I had were a Bible and a Pinkie Pie Plushie. I liked My Little Pony. Whenever I watched it, all my misery faded away while I was watching. It was an escape from the emotional pain. I was always told that nobody liked me, but I'd respond with Jesus loves me, but they always would say the same thing.

"Jesus hates you." They would say to me. "If he loved you, then why would you be in situation?"

This would happen to me again and again, and one night, my foster mother walked in on me praying. As I was on my knees, hands held together, eyes shut.

"Jesus." I prayed, hopeful for the near future. "I may have very little, but what I do have, I thank you for. But if you are filling to, could you send me a friend? I'd really like to have a friend like Pinkie Pie. She's very funny, and I'm sure she could cheer me up when I'm sad. If you are willing, I know you can. Amen"

Unbeknownst to me, my foster mother had been listening outside my room. The door flung open as I turned to look at her.

"That's not going to do you any good you know." She said to me, a wicked grin plastered across her face, as if ready to shatter all my dreams.

"Why?" I asked, knowing what here response would be, only asking out of pure instinct at this point.

"Because." She answered. "Jesus hates you."

I honestly wish I hadn't asked why she thought he hated me.

"Just look at where you are." She continued. "In a foster home that barely feeds you and completely ignores you. Honestly, you keep getting bounced between places like this. And look at you. You're ten. Nobody wants to adopt a ten year old. They only want to adopt babies. Face it. Jesus hates you."

I felt something in my chest shatter, tears began to stream down my face, and I looked away from her.

"What if she's right?" I thought as her words cut into me hard "What if Jesus does hate me?"

"Remember that." She said to me, in a rather smug tone, grinning as she backed out of my room, leaving me saddened.

The tears didn't stop, I grabbed my Pinkie Pie plush as I quietly began to cry. Calling out to Jesus, hoping for some kind of sign that he loved me. I began to use my sleeves to try and dry my eyes, but the tears kept coming, I kept sobbing. I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I wanted to. My heart was shattered to pieces. My faith destroyed. I kept sobbing until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed that night, but I do know that although I was a light sleeper, my sleep was deep enough to not wake up when the Angel visited me.

The Angel looked at me, sleeping on a pathetic thin mat. It provided little comfort and was the reason I was such a light sleeper. He kneeled down to me and put a Hand on my tear stained cheek. The man like being stroked my hair in a comforting way.

"Child." The Angel said to me. "Jesus loves you. He is always there beside you. He will never leave you."

The Angel then gently began to take the plushie from the grasp my arms provided.

"You." The angel said to the plushie. "God has sent me to comfort this boy, to show him that Jesus loves him. You will be the proof that Jesus loves him."

He walked to the other side of my room with the plushie, and put his forehead onto the forehead of the plushie.

"Only he will be able to see you." The Angel said to the plushie, closing his eyes and performing the miracle. "Any senses of that the human body is capable of, when it comes to you, will only apply to him. With the exception of animals."

The Angel took his forehead away from the plushies and put it on the floor, to ready it for all that would happen the next day. I truly did not know what I was in for. I stirred a little in my sleep as the angel stroked my head. I must've been having a bad dream, but whatever I was dreaming, the Angel must've turned it into a good dream, because at that moment, I stopped stirring. He then began to fade back to heaven, having done the job that God had given to it, the Angel was now to return. I slept really well the rest of the night.

I slowly began to wake up. As I began to open I eyes I noticed a blob of pink directly in front of my face. I couldn't tell what it was, but I felt it breathing on my face. I was to tired to know to be scared, so I blinked again. The pink blob in front of my face became more clear. Unfortunately though, I still couldn't tell what it was. That was when I realized, I was on my back. I had no idea why. I never slept on my back. I always slept on my side. I blinked again. And what I saw in front of me sort of began to look like Pinkie Pie. . I was confused. Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was I hallucinating? I had no idea. I blinked one more time, and now, what was in front of me, I could see it perfectly. Pinkie Pie. A living, breathing Pinkie Pie, was right in my face. I was at a loss for words.

Author's Note:

Hello, I just want to thank you for reading this chapter of this story, and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm writing this to prepare for another story I want to write. I have started working on it, but I have so many ideas, that I only know how it will start, and how it will end. So please be patient.

Comments ( 3 )

Certainly interesting, I can say that.

"Because." She answered. "Jesus hates you."

Satan's own lie. Don't believe the words of the devil, whether they come from his own mouth or from a human he's puppeteering.

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