Did you ever have the fortune to see a living Pony Girl from the old world of Eden? Have you ever had the chance to look into the deep blue eyes of a Pony Girl and to feel the infinity within? Could you ever feed your eyes on the perfect body of a Pony Girl or are you just aware of the old legends about the beauty of these beings?

Till recently not even I was sure about the existence of these apparently "magical" beings, right until I ordered my usual glass of milk in a smoky pub. Since it was pretty crowded there again, I headed for the last free seat at a table, at which an old man sat already. "I was waiting for you." the white haired man said and nodded to me with a friendly smile.

My exceedingly surprised expression seemed to affect the man's warm smile not in the slightest and I took a seat while trying to remember his face. "You were waiting for me?", I asked with doubt and tried to return a natural and friendly smile. "I was waiting for you" he said again, this time with a more serious face, "and we don't have much time!"

Irritated, I still smiled, and wondered if he might have mistaken me for somebody else. But before I could start to say anything he continued, with a more hushed voice and not wasting any time, asking if I knew the old legends of Eden. Not awaiting my answer he said "Of course you know about the old world." I still looked at him wide-eyed and didn't realise that I was still staring. The stranger had a long shaggy beard, he wore a dark worn coat, and he appeared to be very old and meager, even though his eyes blazed of life. Still I didn't know how far I could put trust in his words, but an inner power, a feeling of confidence, made me nod. The corner of his mouth moved slightly to show consent, but the man looked down and seemed to think very carefully about what he was going to say next.

The pub was crowded and many little groups were sitting at close quarters talking about all possible things. They laughed and were good humored, but this stranger drew all my attention. I was still holding the glass of milk in my hand and looking him over. Who was this stranger, where did he come from and what did he know about the old world? For a second I still tried to remember if I had seen this man somewhere and sometime already, but the next moment the door of the pub was flung open and a frigid draft blew in, carrying snowflakes to our table. The man stiffened up, like out of a state of trance, and said in a whisper "We have to take care!"

I leaned forward, checked that nobody was watching my lips, and whispered "What do you know about the old world of Eden?"

Frowning, he said "The knowledge is in danger! The truth is about to get lost!"

Again there was silence, and I wondered if that old man was fooling me or if he was speaking the truth and just searching for the right words to explain the situation best. "What is in danger? Which knowledge are you talking about?" I asked very quietly, watching his eyes closely to possibly get a better idea of what he intended.

"The knowledge about the pony girls which got ..." a loud squeak made him stiffen up again, and his eyes kept searching the pub entrance. The blizzard seemed to become stronger and some snowflakes got stuck in the beard of old man. We were still eyeing at the person standing in the pub entrance, one who was obviously looking around carefully and not bothering to close the door.

Some people turned around, clearly annoyed at the stranger whose face wasn't visible due to smoke and dim light. "It's time!" It was surreal how it was pronounced in a deep and strong voice into the pub. And the silhouette turned around and slowly disappeared in the ever more violent snowstorm.

The guests didn't seem much irritated by the short visit but they looked relieved as the door closed. The old man looked still to the door but now he held a silver box in his hand. Slowly he turned back to me and I got frightened when I saw him. The stranger's face suddenly appeared to me incredibly pale and he looked much older than before. His eyes were pallid and his beard seemed much whiter than before. I looked from the old man to the box and I asked myself what could do this, make the man change this way.

With a spontaneous, expressionless voice he whispered to me: "They are coming! They are coming for me and they want to get me! They want to lay claim to the knowledge about the Pony Girls of the Old World of Eden, but never they shall get it from me!". He looked bitterly towards the door of the pub, but nobody opened it. He looked at me and smiled with a lot of compassion: "You are to transmit the knowledge! I'm sorry but from now on it is your role, because you were chosen! I fulfilled my duty." His look became serious again.

I was just about to stand up and to stop wasting any more time with him, when he continued with a gentle voice: "The Pony Girls of the Old World of Eden were the biggest treasure and success of the Creation. Some people say the Pony Girls had the gift to determine the luck or the misfortune of a person. And just looking at a Pony Girl flooded one with feeling sof joy and warmth." He took a break to see whether I was following.

I was sitting in front of him gawking and soaking up what he said. Wasn't this just what I've been searching for all my life? My stomach hurt because as I leaned forward to him more and more to hear his soft words, I had forgotten about the table between the two of us completely.

"Once the Pony Girls lived in the stars and it was allowed for them to reach the earth through a portal... And no Pony Girl resembled another one!", he said with a shaking voice and it seemed he was just about breaking out in tears. "They were what today is called 'perfect' ...", and he stopped for a moment. " ... However, they were too good for the people.... WE'VE ABUSED THEM!", he said with a fire in his eyes and it seemed he wanted to shout it out.

His look rested again at the door of the pub. After a long while, he turned back to looking with reddened eyes upon the box. He continued his story. He almost told it to himself, and I bent even closer to him to hear: "...Abused! The villains! They trotted with style on noble pony hooves over the fields. Their bodies were perfect and flawless and had no fur like the ponies of this world." He seemed to consider how he should continue as it was hard for him to describe them. "The Pony Girls were absolutely flawless. Some shone wrapped in their black latex and they looked like made out of pure steel. Some others had such perfect women's bodies; their uniqueness was simply wrapped in a clean transparent layer of clear latex."

The man appeared to be describing his loveliest dream and it was pleasant to see him briefly smiling. "The legs were unnaturally long and were brilliantly wrapped in this thin layer of shiny material - latex! I don't know whether the Pony Girls were knew what effect they had on people however... Their butts, their beautiful asses were so beautifully round and shiny like their long latex legs. Corsets, or something like that, held them in strongly, tightly. Maybe they wore such belts for protection because they were very vulnerable at this point... at least they were narrowly and tight laced around the Pony Girls' bellies. But their perfect grace, their gentle appearance and their movements seemed not to be interfered by these in the slightest... they were an appearance, in this shining latex ... they us brought luck...".

Then his look became fierce, " ... And we've abused them!... Abused!... Abused!". He looked at me with a questioning look: "Please take the box and find a way to publish the general legacy of the Pony Girls. This will give out luck for everybody. Find a way, so that...", but again he was interrupted again by the squeak of the door. An unbelieveable blizzard was outside of the pub and the strong stocky man stood in the door again.

The old man let go of the box, as if it never belonged to him. Now his look was austere and hard as his eyes glanced at the door. He got up carefully and he slowly moved to the door without giving me any look of recognition. He disappeared with the strong man, stealthy, in the blizzard.

The door just closed when I noticed the box on the table. I sat alone at the table unsure what do now. So I jumped up with the box in hand, and ran out the door to ask the old man all my unanswered questions. However, as I stood on the street I was alone. I couldn't see any foot steps in the snow. Was this all a dream? The storm which had just apparently wanted to destroy the town, simply stopped and I still stood there, looking to the end of the street.

A little bit chilled through, I went back to the pub, which appeared to me now by far louder and happier than before. I sat back at my place, and opened the box because I hoped to find there the answers to my questions. "Who was the old man and who was the stranger at the door? Where are the Pony Girls now and are there any more?" Instead of finding the answers I found only an envelope with different photographs.

I took a look over the pictures where nobody could see them and I became more and more dizzy. This was the proof that the legends of the Pony Girls were not just an anecdote. My heart was in my mouth like never before; they were simply perfect! I soaked up the visions of the pictures into myself and I felt an unbelievable feeling of pleasure arise in me. Their bodies were unique and the latex shone in an undescribably beautiful and different way.

Quietly I said to myself, "I will fulfil my obligation! I will publish the knowledge. Everybody should see these Pony Girls!"