My name is Shane, I am an 18 year old caucasian brony from Georgia, and this is the beginning my story.
The morning brought darkness, the only light coming from my digital alarm clock, the numbers giving off a dim red luminescence, a near silent rhythm seeming to tap from outside all the while. ‘Another day, another one of Discord’s tricks’ I thought as I lay unmoving on my mattress, feeling as if most of my body was numb. I had already heard the news several days ago about the whole bronies into ponies situation, Lauren Faust became Celestia, Tara Strong to Luna, all of that and a few Facebook accounts to go along with it.
I glanced at the clock to see what the time was, the numbers glowing 5:23. “Too early,” I say to myself as I begin to roll over to get a bit more rest.
My eyes fly open as I hear my voice in my mind, a hint of a British accent, something I know I never had. I push myself into a sitting position, only now feeling the brush of a tail on my legs. “Oh you have got to be kidding me,” I say, the accent never faltering and the earlier patting still present. I snap on my desk light with my now limited appendage, examining the new body I undoubtedly have. But to my surprise, instead of a brown coat that I expected to be on the new hoof, I see an off blue color. “Well that can’t be right,” I continue as I remove the sheets with my other hoof, seeing a blonde tail, and an hourglass on my side.
“Well that can’t be good,” I say as I attempt to get off my bed, my new equine legs failing me as soon as I hit the ground, a groan escaping my muzzle. I attempt to pick myself up, shakily standing on four legs as I try to think. “Okay,” I begin as I attempt to slide my right forleg to take a step, “I’m a pony, a british pony, one that isn’t Doctor Whooves, so who am I?” I stumble out of my room to look into my mirrored shelf, which at this moment is only holding my grandmothers nick-nacks that she gave to me. I see the face of a stallion who has gold colored eyes, a clean combed blonde mane and is wearing a collar, not like a dog collar, but a dress shirt-like collar, white with a red bowtie. “Oh,” I say flatly as I stare at my (or rather The Master’s) reflection. “And is there something wrong with being me?” the reflection asked, a look of annoyance on it’s face. I jump back in surprize, causing me to lose my balance and fall on my flank. “Oh, that’s rich,” the reflection chuckles, “a Timelord, jumping at his own reflection, priceless. It’s just too bad it had to be me”.
I begin to climb to my hooves as continue to stare at the cocky image of The Master. “How are you doing that?” I ask as I stumble back to where I was. “What, talking to you?” he replies, “it’s quite simple actually, we’re two minds inhabiting one body, all I’m doing is manipulating the thought of seeing your reflection into thinking you’re talking to me when in reality you’re just talking to your reflection”. He stares at me with a look of something like pity and frustration, “Are you just going to keep falling over yourself or am I going to have to teach you how to walk correctly?” he said as I continues to struggle. “I’d appreciate the help,” I remark before I hear him sigh.
“fine,” he said before I was suddenly able to stand up straight, as if I had walked on four legs my whole life. “There,” he continued, “now, to answer the next incoming question, I shared my memories of learning to walk as an equine so that you now have the muscle memory to stand, trot, gallop, and all that.”
“Wow,” I breathed, “so, let me get this straight, you were The Master on Earth,” he nodded smugly. “The same one who threw lightning from his hands?” I continued.
“Well not exactly lightning, it was a construct of electrical energy that built up inside me as I fed off of other's life force , but yes,” he answered, “but enough of that, transdimensional travel always leaves me famished, and before you think of the ‘no meat’ rule, I’m a timelord, not a common pony, so by all means, meat is on the menu, it’ll be the first I've had since I first became a pony and they told me it was ‘unethical’”.
“Well that’s fortunate, I guess,” I reply as I begin to trot to my refrigerator, the tapping still as prominent as before. As I stare into the sleek reflective surface of the fridge I say, “Hey,” to which the reflection blinks. “What is it now?” The Master grumbles, growing impatient for something to eat. “What’s with the tapping noise?” I ask, only to see him facehoof. “I was hoping I could avoid the drums,” he replied slowly, “not even with the thoughts of two minds does it ever stop banging”.
‘Right,’ I thought to myself as I looked down, ashamed, ‘he was driven insane by that sound, and
now I know what it’s like. How did I forget that’. But when I looked back up, he had composed
himself, I opened my mouth to speak, but he put up a hoof to silence me, “Forget about that,” he
said, “you’ll just have to deal with it better than I did. Now, how is breakfast coming along”.
Like I said earlier, my name is Shane, I am an 18 year old caucasian brony from Georgia, and this is the beginning of my story.