Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-36299239-20190304064951

 Her Miniature Horses



“Do they smell?” Michael asked and, before Mary had a chance to respond, he leant in close to her desk and sniffed audibly.



Mary flinched away from her boss then, trying to regain her composure, stammered, “W-well...Not these...particular  ones. B-but–”



“Strawberry Shortcake!” Michael barked, causing Mary to flinch again, “S-sorry?”



“My sister had those toys when we were kids. They smelled.”



“Y-yes.” Mary affirmed, “Yes they did”.



Michael wandered back to his desk then, and Mary settled back into her chair. She couldn’t help but feel vaguely affronted by the encounter. True, Michael had not actually touched her possessions, but surely there was such a thing an olfactory personal space and, if so, he had certainly invaded hers.



 Besides, he had made her speak an untruth. The vintage My Little Pony toys Mary kept on her desk were not from any of the scented scented lines – the Perfume Puff ponies or the Candy-Cane ponies, for instance – but of course they smelled. Mary darted her eyes over to Michael’s desk and, seeing him absorbed in some spreadsheets, quickly snatched up one of the ponies and brought it close to her face, inhaling deeply.



<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> T here it was! The familiarly sharp and vaguely sweet scent of soft, moulded plastic that never failed to have a calming influence on her. Mary resisted the hypothesis that this smell somehow ‘transported her back to her childhood’. That was then and this was now, and the smell made her feel good about  now . It was a clean smell. A  pure  smell. A smell that made her think, with pride, of the perfectly ordered and rather substantial collection of G1 ponies she kept at home in her apartment.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> W henever Mary felt low, thinking of her collection was always a comfort. Some collectors liked to display their ponies according to the specific line they were part, some displayed theirs according to release date, or theme. Mary, however, liked to display her collection according to colour. Entering her pony room was like walking into the middle of a rainbow. That’s how Mary liked to see it, at least. That room was her sanctuary, her temple, the one irrevocable  good  part of her whole world.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> F licking expertl y th r ough multiple tabs, Mary scrolled the latest sales listings on Ebay, ‘ My Little Pony Trading Post’ and ‘M y L ittle P ony Arena’. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular – honestly she had most of the rare r ponies already, including several ‘Nirvana’ ponies exclusive to international markets – but this weekly review of the sales threads had become something of a habit for her. It was as routine as doing the laundry or taking out the rubbish. She bookmarked a few listings – ponies she already had but that were perhaps in slightly better condition – and was about to call i t quits for the night when a little flag popped up on one of the tabs she had open for MLPTP.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> M ary seldom got direct messages on any of the sites she frequented. Although she was something of a fixture on them, she was never a particularly social person and never took part in the activities such as swaps that people occasionally ran through the sites and never attended any of the conventions. She was also vaguely cagey about her collection, not liking to advertise to o widely the rarities she had amassed. Really, unless it was a response to a message  she  had sent someone about a pony they had for sale, Mary never got any direct messages  at all . Which is why Mary was surprised to fin d the message alert pop up in her tab and, having clicked it, to see the subject line, “For the consummate collector only.” Mary read on:

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Pale_Rider: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Hi FeatheredFetlocks! I have come across a very rare item that I think will be of interest to you and will make a unique addition to your estimable collection. I have a cousin who owns several warehouses (I’m not at liberty to say where), and while they were disposing of some long abandoned stock he came upon something extremely special and, knowing my proclivities, sent it to me immediately. Now, I can’t be certain as I’ve found no official record of this, but the item appears to be a prototype of the Fancy Swirl r ange of My Little Ponies... ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> M ary gasped. Could it really be? The Fancy Swirl ponies, sometimes referred to by collector s as ‘Celestial ponies’ or ‘Fairy Brights’ were a space-themed line of four ponies for which p romotional box art had been created ( and was widely available ) but, as far as Mary knew, the toys themselves had never actually gone into production. For decades collectors had drooled over that one illustration of the proposed line, and many people had turned their hands to making customs of the set, but never had there been even the hint of a rumour that prototypes might actually exist. If this really was genuine ( and Mary realised that was a big “if” ) she  had  to have it.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' ... I know is sounds unbelievable, but it’s true! The particular Fancy Swirl I have is Star s wirl (the pink one). I’d love to keep her for myself, but I’m downsizing my collection and really need the extra cash (I’m expecting and the due date is this September!). If you think you might be interested, please get in contact with me. Don’t delay. If I don’t hear from you in 24 hours I’ll go to the next name on my list. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> The rest of the message consisted of various assurances as to the quality and provenance of the toy, followed by details such as shipping rates and the seller’s preferred payment methods. At the very bottom of the message was a link to an image. Mary clicked it.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> What she saw did not fill her with confidence. The photo was blurry, to say the least. All she could really make out was a pinkish, roughly pony-shaped blob with several protrusions sprouting from its head. It  might  have been a Fancy Swirl prototype. It might have been  anything .

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> It was probably a scam. The seller hadn’t even named a price. Curious about who she was dealing with, Mary clicked on the user name, “ Pale_Rider ” but found they had made no previous posts in the forums. Another red flag, surely.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> But, still…what if it  was  genuine? Mary chewed at her bottom lip as she gazed again at the grainy photo. If this was for real, it was perhaps her one chance to own a truly unique piece of My Little Pony history – virtually a museum-piece – the world’s only known Fancy Swirl pony.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> All at once Mary leaned forward in her seat and started punching slowly and deliberately at the keyboard:

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> FeatherdFetlocks: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Hello Pale_Rider, Thank you very much for your message. You certainly have me intrigued! I was just wondering if you had any more photos as the one you linked to is a teeny bit difficult to make out? Also, what is your asking price? Congratulations on the baby, by the way. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> On reflection, Mary deleted this last sentence. She didn’t want to invite any friendly overtures from this person. Best just to stick to business.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary sent her response then settled back in her chair. She wasn’t sure when, or even if, she would hear back from her mysterious seller. She didn’t have to wonder for long, though, as within minutes she received another message alert:

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Pale_Rider: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Hi FeatheredFetlocks. I knew you’d be the one! Unfortunately my camera is broken so I can’t send you any more photos, but I promise she’s much less blurry in real life. She’s perfect, in fact. I accept payment via Paypal and, for you, I’m asking $500 ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary sucked in her breath sharply. Five-hundred dollars was not a small amount of money, by any means, but honestly she spent more on ponies before. She was still concerned about the photo and the suspiciously convenient excuse of the broken camera but then, if she was paying via Paypal, what was the harm? If the pony never arrived, or if it arrived and was an obvious fake, she could always get the money back. With only a few more moments deliberation, Mary made her decision.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> S lowly, reverently, she lifted the tiny pony out of its nest of packing foam. The plastic was firm in her grasp but soft, almost velvety, to the touch. Mary examined her latest acquisition with an expert eye, running her hands over its surface to check for imperfections and peering closely to check for the tiny flecks of black age spots that collector’s sometimes called ‘pony cancer’. She ran her fingers through the toy’s mane and tail and the strands of acrylic parted like water. It was, as the seller had promised, pristine.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Only now did Mary give herself over to truly admiring her new pony. It’s marbled surface had a shiny, metallic sheen to it – twining rivulets of pink and red that seemed to shift as Mary moved the figure back and forth in the light. A spray of green and gold stars freckled the pony’s flank.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> O n top of the pony’s head sprouted three yellow antennae of hard plastic – two topped with 3D stars and one with a tiny crescent moon.  It’ just like the promotional art  Mary marvelled. Well, almost.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary reached into her drawer of pony brochures, pamphlets and other ephemera and withdrew the art card signed by (swoon!) Bonnie Zacherle herself. The glossy, 5 x 7 art card featured an image of four little ponies frolicking in space – a galaxy of stars spiralling behind them. Mary studied the the image carefully, glancing up a few times to compare it to the pony in her hand. Her pony looked just like one of the four pictured...except that where her pony’s pink body was marbled with deep, crimson red, the pony in the artwork was swirled in a pearlescent pink, a few shades paler then her base body colour. Curious.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Otherwise satisfied with her visual and tactile inspection of her new treasure, Mary brought it up close to her nose to breathe in its factory-fresh fragrance. Her head immediately jerked back as a metallic scent assaulted her nostrils. This wasn’t right. Where was that sweet, rubbery smell she knew so well? Hadn’t the seller assured her this had come straight from a warehouse via a smoke and pet-free home?

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary frowned down at the toy for some time before slowly lifting it back up close to her face. It  looked  fine. It  felt  fine. And yet...and yet…

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Tentatively, Mary poked the very tip of her tongue out of her mouth and gingerly pressed it to the toy’s plastic withers.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> A taste like rust filled Mary’s mouth, stinging her salivary glands. She pulled the toy away in disgust.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Could it be that the sheen of the pony’s paint was made from real metal? This seemed unlikely to Mary. It must have been stored next to something when it was in the factory... something metallic...and the stench of of the corroding material had leached into the porous plastic. Annoying, but nothing she could blame the seller for, she supposed.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> “ You’re a stinky little thing!” Mary addressed the pony reproachfully, turning it to face her. “I’ll have to keep you separate from the rest of the herd until you air out a bit.”

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary looked about the room for a suitable spot. Almost every surface in the room was already covered with ponies. Finally, her eyes alighted on the broad, bare windowsill. She hesitated. She didn’t want such a rare and valuable pony to fade. Still, it would only be for a couple of days and the south-facing window got little light, anyway. Mary placed her new pony at the centre of the windowsill, it’s display side facing the room, and stood back to look admiringly at the little pony whose crimson swirls glinted prettily in the gloaming.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary overslept that night and when she finally awoke the following morning she had a hard time getting out of bed. She felt dazed and sluggish, more like she hadn’t slept in days rather than had had extra sleep. Somehow she managed to drag herself through her morning routine and she was just about to head out to work when, passing by the pony room, something caught her eye. Mary paused and retraced her steps back to stand in the doorway of the pony room, examining it with a frown. What was it that had caught her attention? She entered the room and scanned her shelves, but everything seemed to be in its place. Then she saw it. The new pony, sat on the windowsill, was no longer standing with its display side facing the room. Rather, it was turned to face the window.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary’s heart gave a little flutter, but she quickly and angrily pushed her anxiety aside, '' Don’t be stupid!  she chastised herself,  You must just have forgotten that you turned her that way. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> “Either that, or you decided you wanted to watch the birds!” she joked aloud then laughed, but the laugh sounded high and thin to her ears and she found herself frowning again.  I really  am  tired . She thought as she turned the pony back around to face the room and finally headed out the door.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> That whole day at work Mary felt out of sorts. Prickly and irritable. Although she had never been particularly attached to her co-workers, she was normally able to at least endure their presence. Not today. Today everyone was slow and stupid – their conversation inane and repetitive.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Michael came to Mary’s desk to deliver a paper he wanted her to review and she could barely focus on a word he said. I  could beat your face in , Mary thought, and wondered at the thought. '' I could smash my fist right into your smug smile and you wouldn’t even see it coming. '' Far from unsettling, she found the thought somehow soothing.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> By the end of the day Mary was exhausted. She left work without bidding her co-workers farewell and caught her usual tram home. Every time another passenger jostled or bumped against her she would grind her teeth and clench her fist tighter around the handrail. She wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong. All that she was certain of was that it was everyone else’s fault.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Arriving home, Mary still felt tense from the day’s frustrations. She went to make herself a cup of tea, muttering angrily to herself the whole while, though completely unconscious of this.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Steaming cup of tea finally in hand, Mary headed to the pony room to unwind. As soon as she entered the room a wave of relief washed over her. She sighed as she sat down in her pink desk chair and, reaching across to the side table with her spare hand, retrieved her laptop.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary surfed the net aimlessly for a while, sipping intermittently at her earl grey. She decided to check her bank account to make sure she wasn’t overdrawn after paying for Starswirl. She wasn’t. In fact, it looked like the payment hadn’t gone through at all. Confused, Mary checked her Paypal account. Sure enough, the $500 she had paid Pale_Rider had been refunded. There was no note to explain why. Mary chewed at her lip as she stared at the refund. She wasn’t sure what had happened here but she couldn’t help but wonder, and not for the first time - Who was this “Pale_Rider”, anyway?

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary didn’t expect to find much when she once more looked Pale_Rider up on the MLPTP...and that’s exactly what she found. No threads. No posts. No sign whatsoever that the user even existed apart from the private messages she had sent to Mary and a mostly blank profile page.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary was about to close the page when she decided to try one last thing. She opened up the forum and typed “Pale_Rider” into the search field. One result was returned – a thread from two years ago titled “Who is Pale_Rider?”. Mary opened the thread.:

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> MonsterIceCream: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Feb 12, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Hi guys! I know I don’t post here very often, but I received a weird message from another user and I’m having trouble getting back in contact with her. I was hoping someone around here might know more about her? ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Her username is  Pale_Rider  '' and she claims to have a Fancy Swirl prototype for sale, but she’s not responding to any of my messages. Anyone know how I can get in touch with her?''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> my little pony collector: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Feb 12, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> I know a “Wave_Rider” but not a “  Pale_Rider  ''”. Also, I thought the Fancy Swirls were never actually made? Sounds kind of shifty to me.''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Evilbunnyfoofoo: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Feb 12, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' There’s an account for Pale_Rider, but they haven’t posted anything in the trading post. I agree with my little pony collector. Sounds like someone’s just yanking your chain. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary scrolled past several posts. All expressing scepticism at the offer that had been made to MonsterIceCream, but none seemed able to throw any light on the identity of Pale_Rider.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> A couple of months after the original post, MonsterIceCream posted again with an update:

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> MonsterIceCream: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Apr 21, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Long time no write! I finally got a message back from Pale_Rider and I decided to buy the pony from her. It arrived today and, although I couldn’t say for sure if it’s genuine or some sort of custom, it’s definitely beautiful. I can’t get a good photo of it this light, so I’ll have to wait till tomorrow to upload pictures. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' E ssentially it looks just like the pony in the Fancy Swirl promotional art – the one with the storm cloud cutie mark ( Pale_Rider called it Swirlabout) – but instead of lilac the marbling on the body is a very pale  silver. It looks white in most light. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' There is just one teeny thing...the pony reeks! It smells like someone’s dog buried it. It’s otherwise in perfect condition, though, so I don’t know what’s up with the smell. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Several users had responded to MonsterIceCream's update congratulating her on her purchase and asking to see pictures. A few commented that they still didn’t believe it was genuine and some even suggested that MonsterIceCream herself was lying. The matter was never resolved though as, after that point, the thread just seemed to die. MonsterIceCream never posted any pictures of Swirlabout, nor did she respond to her accusers.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Lost in thought, Mary chewed absently at her lower lip. This was all starting to sound eerily familiar. After staring at the abandoned thread for some time, Mary clicked on MonsterIceCream ’s username. MonsterIceCream ’s profile popped up. Scrolling through the user’s activity Mary found that MonsterIceCream had started one last thread after the one about P a le_Rider, this time in the “ Wanted to Sell ” section of the forum:

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> G1 Collection Free to Good Home 

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> MonsterIceCream : 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> March 5, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Hi guys. I need to get rid of my collection and fast, so if you’re a bargain hunter this is a great opportunity. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' I have approximately 176 G1 ponies, most in very good to minty condition. Highlights include TE Mimic, Rapunzel with original barrettes and a prototype (or custom?) Swirlabout. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' I don’t have photos, but if you claim it now I’ll send the whole lot to you for the price of postage. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> Gingerbread: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> March 5, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' I’ve just sent you a DM. Is this for real? ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Skybreeze:

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> March 5, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Why are you getting rid of them MonsterIceCream? Is something wrong?

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> MonsterIceCream: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> March 6, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Ever since I got Swirlabout I’ve started to feel differently about my collection. I know this sounds crazy, but they’ve started to creep me out. I can’t handle all those little eyes staring at me all the time. I feel like they’re watching me. And the smell! My whole room smells like dirt. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' I feel sick and I just feel like getting rid of the ponies will be a huge wait of my chest. I’d try to sell them individually, but I just want them all gone now. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> MonsterIceCream:

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> March 7, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' Claimed! Thank you all for your interest and your concern. I feel much happier now. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> MonsterIceCream: 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> June 17, 2017 

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'' And I looked, and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed him. ''

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Mary reread MonsterIceCream’ thread several times. The woman sounded genuinely disturbed. Mary felt a little twinge whenever she got to the part about the pon ies smelling wrong. Her own pony didn’t smell of  dirt , of course. But still…

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> Swivelling her chair around, Mary faced Starswirl – still sitting on the windowsill, still facing the room. She scooted over to the toy and picked it up then, after a moment’s hesitation, gave it another sniff.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal"> T here is was again – that strange, metallic scent. It hadn’t faded at all since she put the pony out to air.  It smells stronger than ever,  Mary   thought, alth o ugh she knew this made no logical sense. She didn’t pull the pony away as she had the first time she smelt it. Instead, she took another deep breath, letting the sharp scent pierce her nostrils. There was something almost pleasant about the smell, she thought. Unfamiliar, true, but somehow fresh. Invigorating. Mary stuck out her tongue and licked the length of Starswirl’s back. Her mouth was flooded with a taste like dirty coins. She shuddered and bit reflexively at her bottom lip, her flesh br eaking out in goosebumps.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="CENTER"> *

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Mary slept fitfully that night. She had strange dreams. Dreams full of gore and viscera.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> She dreamt of ponies – which was not unusual – but these ponies were...wrong.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Her collection was in disarray. Instead of the orderly rainbow she had taken such care to curate, the figures were all jumbled up. Mary was sitting on the floor of her pony room brushing out the tail of one of her favourite ponies, Bouquet. With each stroke, the tail grew longer – the key feature of the Brush and Grow line...but this just kept going. Mary set aside the brush and used both hands to withdraw inch upon inch of hair from the little plastic pony until it seemed like almost a whole metre had come out of its back end. There was a slight hitch in the tail and Mary thought it must be about to stop, but instead there was a wet pop and she found herself pulling out a long, slimy trail of intestines.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Gasping, Mary tossed Bouquet aside in disgust. She tried to get to her feet, but the ground seemed to be pulsing and she couldn’t steady herself. She spun around and braced herself against one of her pony shelves, and as she did so came face to face with her collection of Beddy-Bye Eye baby ponies. They each winked at her from weeping, lifelike eyes that gazed out from swollen, infected sockets covering their entire bodies. Mary reeled back. The whole room spun around her and she caught glimpses of the rest of her collection – all hideously transformed. Sweetheart Sisters teetered on legs so long and thin they looked ready to snap, Sweetie Babies had their lips curled back to reveal large, rotten teeth in mottled gums and from over near the Perfume Puff ponies came a rotten miasma.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Undercutting all this was another smell. A rusty, metallic smell. Mary gazed up at the top of the shelf and saw Starswirl looming there above her. She was not changed like the others, and somehow that was more terrifying, for it was only then that Mary noticed the red pattern that covered Starswirl’s body looked exactly like a network of veins. The smell coming from the pony seemed to grow stronger until it threatened to overcome Mary.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="CENTER"> *

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Mary awoke with a start. Although it was a cool night, she found herself drenched in sweat. She mopped at her brow with the sleeve of her flannel pyjamas.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> The dream was fresh in her mind. She could still see her beloved herd, all mutated and corrupted. She could still smell that now-familiar metallic tang in the air.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Mary sat up. She really could smell it. The scent was almost overpowering. What’s more, Mary finally recognised it for what it was.

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<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> On shaky legs she made her way down the corridor through the dark, the scent increasing with every step she took towards her pony room. When she reached the room she hesitated for several heartbeats before flicking on the light.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> In the sallow light Mary saw her collection in disarray, just as it had been in her dream. Ponies were scattered, apparently at random, over every surface in the room.

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal" align="LEFT"> Right on top of her central pony shelf stood Starswirl, presiding over the havoc below. The red markings that marbled her body seemed to swirl and throb as Mary watched. Gazing up at the pony, Mary bit her lip so hard her mouth began to fill with blood. It tasted metallic on her tongue. <ac_metadata title="Her Miniature Horses"> </ac_metadata>