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>Oh, you’re awake.
>As awake as you can be here, anyway.
>It’s nice to see you, Anonymous.
>…who am I? Hm.
>That’s not really important right now.
>What is important is what I’m about to tell you.
>You see, tomorrow is a very special day.
>A being from another world will be delivered unto you.
>You must care for it, and nurture it.
>Why? Well, because this being will be the catalyst for events that will decide the outcome for events yet to come.
>This being will save worlds
>Or doom them.
>You…well, you won’t take as much of a leading role.
>To everyone else, anyway.
>But to this creature, you will be a source of wisdom, and of nourishment.
>Treat this creature like it is your own, Anonymous.
>…I cannot tell you the events that will transpire, I’m afraid.
>Far too much could go wrong.
>But please, remember this tomorrow, for even though you remain skeptical, I speak nothing but the truth to you.
>…you think very little of yourself, Anonymous.
>You wonder how it could be you of all people to be assigned with this task.
>And perhaps, my friend, that in itself is the answer to your question.
>What good would someone with all the answers do? Someone with everything figured out, with no self-doubt or turmoil…
>You’re not perfect.
>And that's what makes you perfect to me.
>It’s almost time to get up, Anonymous.
>I can feel you getting further and further.
>Just remember what I’ve said to you.
>Goodbye for now…
*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>8:00 AM
>alarm clock pls
>The light of morning seeps into the cracks between your eyelids, and you know it’s unavoidable.
>You’re awake.
>This does not please you.
>Not willing to drag this process out any longer than it has to go on for, you pull your tired carcass out of bed, rising up to meet a new day.
>Agonizingly, you pull on a pair of black slacks and an olive sweatshirt.
>Before heading downstairs, however, you partake in your one pleasure of the early morning; sliding into your new slippers.
>Your senses are taken to a whole new level of comfy, your feet cradled in the warm flannel fabric.
>And you used to think slippers were dumb.
>After taking a quick piss, you trundle downstairs, wondering why the hell you were even awake.
>You didn’t remember setting an alarm last night, and as far as you could remember, today was a day off from work.
>The days seemed to really blend together lately, so you wouldn’t be surprised if you were wrong.
>Still, a glance at a nearby calendar proves you correct, begrudgingly; it was a day off, and you were awake at eight in the morning.
>Deciding not to dwell on the issue any longer than necessary, sit at the kitchen table, slumped forward in what has to be the sorriest sight you can imagine.
>You weren’t a morning person.
>Stretching, you wonder what the hell you’re going to do today.
>You’re a mess, and you know it, so going out right now probably isn’t a good idea.
>As well, it looks like it’s about to rain, and hard.
>You don’t recall any chores you have to do for the day.
>Rubbing the little bit of stubble on your chin, you try and think of how your day is going to pan out.
>…maybe you should just relax today.
>You walk toward the door, sliding on a windbreaker.
>Opening the door, a light breeze dances across your cheek.
>It’s late fall, and although it’s a bit chilly, it’s warm enough to justify lounging on the porch.
>Hair a mess, you sit on the bench laid across the porch of your little house.
>The cushions are a bit torn up, but you don’t mind much.
>You lean back against the wall of the house, feeling a little hum from the water pipes inside.
>The little grey clouds above rumble, and before you know it, rain starts to fall.
>Eight in the morning, rain falling above, the scent of coffee barely registering from indoors.
>It was enough to send you plummeting back into sleep.
>Christ, it was so good…
>You soon decide that you shouldn’t let yourself fall asleep.
>Slowly rising from your seat, you stretch your shoulders out.
>Your eyes slowly fall open, that odd warm and stretchy feeling bubbling behind your eyelids.
>And then you spot something.
>A white and pinkish lump walking onto your lawn from the road.
>It’s pretty small, but it sticks out like a sore thumb next to all the grass and pavement around it.
>You need a better look.
>You lean onto the banister, and get a better look at the thing that you see walking…no, stumbling onto your yard.
>And man, it’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen.
>A little white pony, with a flowing rainbow-colored mane.
>Its white coat is stained with mud, and its body hobbles with an amount of fatigue and exhaustion that even makes you feel concerned.
>You say nothing, silently watching the little horse thing plod onto your property.
>You weren’t sure what to do or say, horses weren’t the type of pest you normally got in the suburbs.
>It suddenly falls to its flanks, panting loudly.
>You stare at the pony, and you quickly find its own eyes locked onto yours.
>Time almost seems to stand still, meeting the gaze of the little thing on your lawn.
>The world around you seems to fade away, and the pony becomes the only thing your senses can register.
>You somehow hear its heart beat, and you notice every little movement its ethereal mane makes.
>Every little gasp for air, every little twitch of overexertion.
>And somehow, you feel that the pony is doing the same thing to you.
>White noise completely envelops you, and a sort of sensory overload takes place.
>You can't move, or think, or feel, all you can do is stare at the pony, gasping for air which for some reason wasn't there.
>The wind picks up around you, and you begin to feel panic.
>You can't feel the ground under your feet anymore.
>At this point, panic makes way for pure, unadulterated fear.
>What the hell is this? What the hell is happening to you?! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS THI-
>"Just remember what I've said to you."
>And then it stops.
>The world has fallen back to normal, leaving you and the pony where you were before.
>It seems to have the same out-of-breath look that you have.
>This thing…it looks so damn weird.
>You notice now that it has a unicorn horn and wings on its body, making the little alien look even stranger to you.
>It pants and wheezes at you, almost as if it will break down into a seizure of some sort at the drop of a hat.
>That's probably just because it's so little and tired, but still...
>The weirdest thing is, her eyes never leave yours.
>She just gives you this freaky stare, waiting for you to do something.
>Anything.
>You want to go inside and call someone, to get this freaky thing off of your property.
>Still, what happened before…
>You feel as though there is some divine force pushing you toward it.
>Even if it was the weirdest thing to ever happen to you, in this husk of mediocrity, you feel as though you’re meant to do…something with it.
>You have two options.
You can either end this now by calling for help, or allow yourself to get caught up in all of this and approach the creature.
>You gulp.
Decisions.
>Divine intervention not be tampered with.
>Your step off of the porch step, not much minding the rain.
>Every step you take makes the little horse reel back a bit, though not necessarily out of fear.
>The rain picks up above you both, but you don't let it distract you, and soon enough you're towering over her little shivering frame.
>It's hard think of something to say something to what might possibly be the first alien life form on the planet, really.
>The possibility that it doesn't even speak your language is something that concerns you.
>But somehow, the single word you say seems to break the silence perfectly.
"Hello."
>For a moment, the pony does nothing.
>But soon it musters up a retort.
>"Hi."
>The thunder crackles above you.
>Without another word, you pick up the little horse, bringing her small and weary frame into the warmth and safety of your home.
>She'll be safe, for now.

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>Oh, you’re awake.
>As awake as you can be here, anyway.
>It’s nice to see you, Anonymous.
>…who am I? Hm.
>That’s not really important right now.
>What is important is what I’m about to tell you.
>You see, tomorrow is a very special day.
>A being from another world will be delivered unto you.
>You must care for it, and nurture it.
>Why? Well, because this being will be the catalyst for events that will decide the outcome for events yet to come.
>This being will save worlds
>Or doom them.
>You…well, you won’t take as much of a leading role.
>To everyone else, anyway.
>But to this creature, you will be a source of wisdom, and of nourishment.
>Treat this creature like it is your own, Anonymous.
>…I cannot tell you the events that will transpire, I’m afraid.
>Far too much could go wrong.
>But please, remember this tomorrow, for even though you remain skeptical, I speak nothing but the truth to you.
>…you think very little of yourself, Anonymous.
>You wonder how it could be you of all people to be assigned with this task.
>And perhaps, my friend, that in itself is the answer to your question.
>What good would someone with all the answers do? Someone with everything figured out, with no self-doubt or turmoil…
>You’re not perfect.
>And that's what makes you perfect to me.
>It’s almost time to get up, Anonymous.
>I can feel you getting further and further.
>Just remember what I’ve said to you.
>Goodbye for now…
*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>8:00 AM
>alarm clock pls
>The light of morning seeps into the cracks between your eyelids, and you know it’s unavoidable.
>You’re awake.
>This does not please you.
>Not willing to drag this process out any longer than it has to go on for, you pull your tired carcass out of bed, rising up to meet a new day.
>Agonizingly, you pull on a pair of black slacks and an olive sweatshirt.
>Before heading downstairs, however, you partake in your one pleasure of the early morning; sliding into your new slippers.
>Your senses are taken to a whole new level of comfy, your feet cradled in the warm flannel fabric.
>And you used to think slippers were dumb.
>After taking a quick piss, you trundle downstairs, wondering why the hell you were even awake.
>You didn’t remember setting an alarm last night, and as far as you could remember, today was a day off from work.
>The days seemed to really blend together lately, so you wouldn’t be surprised if you were wrong.
>Still, a glance at a nearby calendar proves you correct, begrudgingly; it was a day off, and you were awake at eight in the morning.
>Deciding not to dwell on the issue any longer than necessary, sit at the kitchen table, slumped forward in what has to be the sorriest sight you can imagine.
>You weren’t a morning person.
>Stretching, you wonder what the hell you’re going to do today.
>You’re a mess, and you know it, so going out right now probably isn’t a good idea.
>As well, it looks like it’s about to rain, and hard.
>You don’t recall any chores you have to do for the day.
>Rubbing the little bit of stubble on your chin, you try and think of how your day is going to pan out.
>…maybe you should just relax today.
>You walk toward the door, sliding on a windbreaker.
>Opening the door, a light breeze dances across your cheek.
>It’s late fall, and although it’s a bit chilly, it’s warm enough to justify lounging on the porch.
>Hair a mess, you sit on the bench laid across the porch of your little house.
>The cushions are a bit torn up, but you don’t mind much.
>You lean back against the wall of the house, feeling a little hum from the water pipes inside.
>The little grey clouds above rumble, and before you know it, rain starts to fall.
>Eight in the morning, rain falling above, the scent of coffee barely registering from indoors.
>It was enough to send you plummeting back into sleep.
>Christ, it was so good…
>You soon decide that you shouldn’t let yourself fall asleep.
>Slowly rising from your seat, you stretch your shoulders out.
>Your eyes slowly fall open, that odd warm and stretchy feeling bubbling behind your eyelids.
>And then you spot something.
>A white and pinkish lump walking onto your lawn from the road.
>It’s pretty small, but it sticks out like a sore thumb next to all the grass and pavement around it.
>You need a better look.
>You lean onto the banister, and get a better look at the thing that you see walking…no, stumbling onto your yard.
>And man, it’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen.
>A little white pony, with a flowing rainbow-colored mane.
>Its white coat is stained with mud, and its body hobbles with an amount of fatigue and exhaustion that even makes you feel concerned.
>You say nothing, silently watching the little horse thing plod onto your property.
>You weren’t sure what to do or say, horses weren’t the type of pest you normally got in the suburbs.
>It suddenly falls to its flanks, panting loudly.
>You stare at the pony, and you quickly find its own eyes locked onto yours.
>Time almost seems to stand still, meeting the gaze of the little thing on your lawn.
>The world around you seems to fade away, and the pony becomes the only thing your senses can register.
>You somehow hear its heart beat, and you notice every little movement its ethereal mane makes.
>Every little gasp for air, every little twitch of overexertion.
>And somehow, you feel that the pony is doing the same thing to you.
>White noise completely envelops you, and a sort of sensory overload takes place.
>You can't move, or think, or feel, all you can do is stare at the pony, gasping for air which for some reason wasn't there.
>The wind picks up around you, and you begin to feel panic.
>You can't feel the ground under your feet anymore.
>At this point, panic makes way for pure, unadulterated fear.
>What the hell is this? What the hell is happening to you?! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS THI-
>"Just remember what I've said to you."
>And then it stops.
>The world has fallen back to normal, leaving you and the pony where you were before.
>It seems to have the same out-of-breath look that you have.
>This thing…it looks so damn weird.
>You notice now that it has a unicorn horn and wings on its body, making the little alien look even stranger to you.
>It pants and wheezes at you, almost as if it will break down into a seizure of some sort at the drop of a hat.
>That's probably just because it's so little and tired, but still...
>The weirdest thing is, her eyes never leave yours.
>She just gives you this freaky stare, waiting for you to do something.
>Anything.
>You want to go inside and call someone, to get this freaky thing off of your property.
>Still, what happened before…
>You feel as though there is some divine force pushing you toward it.
>Even if it was the weirdest thing to ever happen to you, in this husk of mediocrity, you feel as though you’re meant to do…something with it.
>You have two options.
You can either end this now by calling for help, or allow yourself to get caught up in all of this and approach the creature.
>You gulp.
Decisions.
>Divine intervention not be tampered with.
>Your step off of the porch step, not much minding the rain.
>Every step you take makes the little horse reel back a bit, though not necessarily out of fear.
>The rain picks up above you both, but you don't let it distract you, and soon enough you're towering over her little shivering frame.
>It's hard think of something to say something to what might possibly be the first alien life form on the planet, really.
>The possibility that it doesn't even speak your language is something that concerns you.
>But somehow, the single word you say seems to break the silence perfectly.
"Hello."
>For a moment, the pony does nothing.
>But soon it musters up a retort.
>"Hi."
>The thunder crackles above you.
>Without another word, you pick up the little horse, bringing her small and weary frame into the warmth and safety of your home.
>She'll be safe, for now.

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