I first met in person with Reacty Shay. in the summer of 2007. I had arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Dutch, to see her for an interview. Reacty had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction. We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in Manehatten on unrelated business, but at the last moment Reacty changed her mind and locked herself in the couple’s bedroom, refusing to meet with me. For half an hour I sat with Dutch as we camped outside the bedroom door, I listening and taking notes while he attempted fruitlessly to calm his wife.

The things Reacty said made little sense but fit with the pattern I was expecting: though I could not see her, I could tell from her voice that she was crying, and more often than not her objections to speaking with me centered around an incoherent diatribe on her dreams — her nightmares. Dutch apologized profusely when we ceased the exercise, and I did my best to take it in stride; recall that I wasn’t a reporter in search of a story, but merely a curious young man in search of information. Besides, I thought at the time, I could perhaps find another, similar case if I put my mind and resources to it.

Reacty S. (based on what I've been told) first encountered the picture while grocery shopping. She and Dutch had been married for only five months. Reacty was one of an estimated 400 ponies who saw the picture when somepony happened to stumble upon it.  Reacty was the first to openly talk about it.  The others have remained anonymous or are dead.  

In 2005, when I was only in tenth grade, 'smile' was first brought to my attention by my burgeoning interest in horror stories; Reacty was the most often cited victim of what is sometimes referred to as “Smile dog,” the being 'smile' is reputed to display. What caught my interest (other than the obvious macabre elements of the legend and my proclivity toward such things) was the sheer lack of information, usually to the point that people don’t believe it even exists other than as a rumor or hoax.

It is unique because, though the entire phenomenon centers on a picture.  That picture is nowhere to be found; certainly many photomanipulated simulacra litter ponies personal photo albums, showing up with the most frequency lying on the street.  It is suspected these are fakes because they do not have the effect the true 'smile' is believed to have, namely sudden onset temporal lobe epilepsy and acute anxiety.

This purported reaction in the viewer is one of the reasons the phantom-like 'smile' is regarded with such disdain, since it is patently absurd, though depending on whom you ask the reluctance to acknowledge 'smile' existence might be just as much out of fear as it is out of disbelief.

Encounters with smile are the stuff of legend.  Reacty's story is not unique; there are unverified rumors of smile showing up out of nowhere.  Like getting mail from somepony named "Anonymous".  Most often, the picture would come with a caption saying "SMILE, CELESTIA LOVES YOU!!"

Those who claim to have seen smile often weakly joke that they were far too busy to keep the photo they found.  However, all alleged victims offer the same description of the photo: A dog-like creature (usually described as appearing similar to a Siberian husky), illuminated by the flash of the camera, sits in a dim room, the only background detail that is visible being a hoof extending from the darkness near the left side of the frame. The hoof is empty, but is usually described as “beckoning.” Of course, most attention is given to the dog (or dog-creature, as some victims are more certain than others about what they claim to have seen). The muzzle of the beast is reputedly split in a wide grin, revealing two rows of very white, very straight, very sharp, very pony-looking teeth.

This is, of course, not a description given immediately after viewing the picture, but rather a recollection of the victims, who claim to have seen the picture endlessly repeated in their mind’s eye during the time they are, in reality, having epileptic fits. These fits are reported to continue indeterminably, often while the victims sleep, resulting in very vivid and disturbing nightmares. These may be treated with medication, though in someses it is more effective than others.

Reacty S., I assumed, was not on effective medication. That was why after my visit to her apartment in 2007 I set out to find somepony who had an actual encounter of the real smile picture.  For a time nothing happened and at length I forgot completely about my pursuits, since I had begun my freshman year of college and was quite busy. Reacty contacted me through mail, however, near the beginning of March 2008.

The envelope was sloppy, as well as the handwriting.  Though she seemed calm in her writing.  

        Dear Mr. L.,

         I am incredibly sorry about my behavior last summer when you came to interview me. I hope you understand that it was no fault of yours, but rather my own problems that led me to act out as I did. I realized that I could have handled the situation more decorously; however, I hope you will forgive me. At the time, I was afraid.

You see, for fifteen years I have been haunted by smile. Smile dog comes to me in my sleep every night. I know that sounds silly, but it is true. There is an ineffable quality about my dreams, my nightmares, that makes them completely unlike any real dreams I have ever had. I do not move and do not speak. I simply look ahead, and the only thing ahead of me is the scene from that horrible picture. I see the beckoning hoof, and I see Smile dog. It talks to me.

It is not a dog, of course, though I am not quite sure what it really is. It tells me it will leave me alone if only I do as it asks. All I must do, it says, is “spread the word.” That is how it phrases its demands. And I know exactly what it means: it wants me to show it to someone else.

And I could. The week after my incident I received in the mail a manila envelope with no return address. Inside was only a small photo that was folded in half. Without having to check, I knew precisely what was on it.

I thought for a long time about my options. I could show it to a stranger, a coworker… I could even show it to Dutch, as much as the idea disgusted me. And what would happen then? Well, if Smile dog kept its word I could sleep. Yet if it lied, what would I do? And who was to say something worse would not come for me if I did as the creature asked?

So I did nothing for fifteen years, though I kept the photo hidden amongst my things. Every night for fifteen years Smile dog has come to me in my sleep and demanded that I spread the word. For fifteen years I have stood strong, though there have been hard times. Many of my fellow victims across Equestria don't go outside at all.  I heard some of them committed suicide. Others remained completely silent, simply disappearing. They are the ones I worry about the most.

I sincerely hope you will forgive me, Mr. L., but last summer when you contacted me and my husband about an interview I was near the breaking point. I decided I was going to give you the photo. I did not care if Smile dog was lying or not, I wanted it to end. You were a stranger, someone I had no connection with, and I thought I would not feel sorrow when you took the photo as part of your research and sealed your fate.

Before you arrived I realized what I was doing: was plotting to ruin your life. I could not stand the thought, and in fact I still cannot. I am ashamed, Mr. L., and I hope that this warning will dissuade you from further investigation of smile. You may in time encounter someone who is, if not weaker than I, then wholly more depraved, someone who will not hesitate to follow Smile dog’s orders.

Stop while you are still whole.

Sincerely,

ReactyS.

        Dutch contacted me later that month with the news that his wife had killed herself. While cleaning up the various things she’d left behind, he happened upon the above message. He was a man in shambles; he wept as he told me to listen to his wife’s advice. He’d found the photo, he revealed, and burned it until it was nothing but ashes.  The part that most disturbed him, however, was how the photo had hissed as it burned. Like some sort of animal, he said.

I will admit that I was a little uncertain about how to respond to this. At first I thought perhaps it was a joke, with the couple belatedly playing with the situation in order to get a rise out of me. A quick check of several Equestrian newspapers’ obituaries, however, proved that Reacty S. was indeed dead. There was, of course, no mention of suicide in the article. I decided that, for a time at least, I would not further pursue the subject of smile jpg, especially since I had finals coming up at the end of May.

But the world has odd ways of testing us. Almost a full year after I’d returned from my disastrous interview with Reacty S., I received another mail.

This envelope was much neater.  It was written in cursive and everything seemed like it was made by a pony with OCD.  

Hello

I found your adress through an anonymous source.  The source mentioned that you are interested in smile.  I have saw it it is not as bad as everypony says. I have sent it to you here. Just spreading the word.

The final line chilled me to the bone.

There was a small, folded photo with it. I considered opening it for some time. It was mostly likely a fake, I imagined, and even if it weren’t I was never wholly convinced of smile's peculiar powers. Reacty S.’s story had shaken me, yes, but she was probably mentally unbalanced anyway. After all, how could a simple image do what smile was said to accomplish? What sort of creature was it that could break one’s mind with only the power of the eye?

And if such things were patently absurd, then why did the legend exist at all?

If I unfolded the picture, if I looked at it, and if Reacty turned out to be correct, if Smile dog came to me in my dreams demanding I spread the word, what would I do? Would I live my life as Reacty had, fighting against the urge to give in until I died? Or would I simply spread the word, eager to be put to rest? And if I chose the latter route, how could I do it? Whom would I burden in turn?

I could very well leave it on the ground of a busy street, and anyone taking notice in the abandoned picture would be affected.  I could just show it to a friend or an acquaintance, or somepony I don't even know.  I could corner somepony in an alleyway and force them to look at it.  I could kidnap a pony and made them look at it.

Could I spread the word?

Yes. Yes I could.