Alright folks, buckle up. I gotta tell you about how digging into the Four Horsemen slapped me upside the head this month. Started off thinking “Cool, Bible stuff,” ended up staring at my phone feeling sick. Here’s how it went down.
Where the Heck This Idea Came From
Truth? Saw the phrase in some clickbait headline while doomscrolling. Normally I’d swipe past, but it stuck. Thought maybe… could write a quirky little blog post? Like “heh, guess climate change’s the Pale Horse lol.” Oh man, I was stupid.
Figured I’d do some research. Cracked open dusty old myth books first – Revelations, other apocalypse stories. Yeah, Conquest rides white, War’s on red, Famine’s got black scales, Death’s on pale. Standard stuff. Felt like a history lesson. Snapped pics for Instagram like “check out this antique book!” God, embarrassing.
The Punch to the Gut Moment
Woke up Wednesday, fired up Twitter. Top trends: “#RegionXConflictEscalates” right above “#RecordGrainPrices.” Felt cold. Like, actual chills. Pulled up that old chart I’d scribbled:
-
War Horse: The feed’s nothing but missile vids and refugees. Real people. Kids screaming.
Famine Horse: My buddy’s bakery closed. Not trendy, fam. WHEAT hit prices he couldn’t touch.
Conquest Horse: Some slick “Visionary Leader” spouting unity while annexing land. Comments filled with clapping emojis.
Death Horse: Scrolled local news. Heatwave deaths piled up like old clothes nobody collects.
My stomach dropped. This ain’t dusty history. This was the damn notification sound on my phone. Kept refreshing… the horsemen weren’t riding horses anymore. They were streaming.
Trying to Unsee It (Spoiler: Failed)
Panicked a bit. Shoved the research aside. Tried baking bread (failed), called my parents (mom heard the panic, asked if I was sick). Couldn’t shake it. Went for a walk. Saw three “For Lease” signs on Main Street. Famine riding past coffee shops.
That “quirky blog post” idea? Dead. Felt gross pretending otherwise. Sat at my desk that night, just thinking… these horsemen? They’re not prophecy. They’re patterns. Ugly, human patterns playing out on a 4K screen in real-time.
Why Bother Talking About Ugly Stuff?
Here’s my messy truth after living with this all week: We name monsters to see their shape. Calling War “just politics”? Calling Famine “market forces”? That’s how they gallop unchecked. Naming them horsemen drags them out of the newsfeed blur.
This ain’t about scaring folks. It’s about spotting the saddles. Conquest looks slick till you see the boot stamping on a neck. Famine isn’t abstract when your neighbor loses their job baking bread. Recognizing the pattern? That’s the first punch back.
Still processing it. Doesn’t end tidy. They’re out there right now, riding hard. Ignoring them’s like ignoring smoke under your door. Might not smell like brimstone yet. Smells like burning plastic.
