05-21-2015, 05:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-21-2015, 05:33 PM by Ziggy and Angelbaby.)
A Dark Encounter
by Siegfried Danzinger
I was, quite foolishly, out late one night, and I had lingered too long in a part of town that bore an ill reputation. I thought I heard footfalls just behind me on the sidewalk, but - when I turned to see who pursued me - there was no one there. I became fearful; wishing that I were safe at home and asleep in my bed.
With increasing speed and increasing anxiety, I made my way down the street. My ears again caught the sound of pursuing feet. I turned: Nothing. Not a soul. Though it would not take me home any quicker, I turned down an unlit alleyway and sped past overturned trash cans and startled cats. I nearly crashed into the far wall before I realized the alley terminated in a dead end. I spun round, and - to my horror - there was a shadowy, unfamiliar figure standing in front of me.
As he - or It, I momentarily and madly considered - came nearer, I could perceive that he balanced something in an upturned palm. Some small, colorful figure that I couldn't immediately make out in the dark alley. My heart raced. Beads of sweat collected on my brow; though the night was cold and I was shivering. There was no other way out. No avenue of escape.
The hand (I still hoped it was a hand) bearing the figure stretched out towards me, and I instinctively drew back with a sharp gasp. A strange light emanating from the being's other hand shone on the item, and I suddenly realized...
He was holding a miniature, many-hued equine; her mane carefully brushed and styled. Her coat, which I decided was blue by the glow of the man's phone, was decorated - at the flank - with a cloud and lightning bolt-shaped mark. Gently, the stranger pressed the figure into my hand, which tightened slowly and automatically around it. He quietly uttered the cryptic words, "Friendship is..." I couldn't make out the final word. And, though I called after him as he retreated, he would not return to repeat his message.
Half in a daze, I made my way home and ultimately into my room. My hand had remained closed since that moment in the alley, and I opened it then to examine the unexpected gift by lamplight. Smiling, I set it carefully atop my nightstand and turned out the light.
I never saw that man again. But I still have the little equine. My little equine.
---
I was inspired to write this by a topic on another forum that inquired as to how you met your first Brony.
by Siegfried Danzinger
I was, quite foolishly, out late one night, and I had lingered too long in a part of town that bore an ill reputation. I thought I heard footfalls just behind me on the sidewalk, but - when I turned to see who pursued me - there was no one there. I became fearful; wishing that I were safe at home and asleep in my bed.
With increasing speed and increasing anxiety, I made my way down the street. My ears again caught the sound of pursuing feet. I turned: Nothing. Not a soul. Though it would not take me home any quicker, I turned down an unlit alleyway and sped past overturned trash cans and startled cats. I nearly crashed into the far wall before I realized the alley terminated in a dead end. I spun round, and - to my horror - there was a shadowy, unfamiliar figure standing in front of me.
As he - or It, I momentarily and madly considered - came nearer, I could perceive that he balanced something in an upturned palm. Some small, colorful figure that I couldn't immediately make out in the dark alley. My heart raced. Beads of sweat collected on my brow; though the night was cold and I was shivering. There was no other way out. No avenue of escape.
The hand (I still hoped it was a hand) bearing the figure stretched out towards me, and I instinctively drew back with a sharp gasp. A strange light emanating from the being's other hand shone on the item, and I suddenly realized...
He was holding a miniature, many-hued equine; her mane carefully brushed and styled. Her coat, which I decided was blue by the glow of the man's phone, was decorated - at the flank - with a cloud and lightning bolt-shaped mark. Gently, the stranger pressed the figure into my hand, which tightened slowly and automatically around it. He quietly uttered the cryptic words, "Friendship is..." I couldn't make out the final word. And, though I called after him as he retreated, he would not return to repeat his message.
Half in a daze, I made my way home and ultimately into my room. My hand had remained closed since that moment in the alley, and I opened it then to examine the unexpected gift by lamplight. Smiling, I set it carefully atop my nightstand and turned out the light.
I never saw that man again. But I still have the little equine. My little equine.
---
I was inspired to write this by a topic on another forum that inquired as to how you met your first Brony.
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