Only old man Jenkins was around getting his horses some blankets for the winter night when the hills next to the Williams farm started echoing with a strange sound. It went something like VWORP! VWORP! VWORP! – Something over there was lighting up with a blue light and spooking the horses away from whatever it was. Now the thing about old man Jenkins is that he migrated from England when he was a child and he could swear that sounded like one of the classic blue Police Call Boxes he saw around London one day as a child. The sound was super distinctive and so was the young man that popped out of it one day who wore the blue suit and tie with the very tall dark hair.
Old man Jenkins would never forget that particular day filled with strange men and their magic blue boxes…there was an invasion by giant space chickens as well. It was such a strange day that when it was over no one had actually acknowledged that it had happened and just pretended otherwise. So much time had passed that old man Jenkins was starting to believe it himself, except now he wanted to know what that strange VWORP!-ing noise was coming from.
There was a gate built into the fencing that would lead to the Williams side of the farm land, and against his better judgment to maybe grab a flashlight and possibly shotgun before going further, old man Jenkins went through the gate anyway to find where the strangely familiar noise came from.
“Hello? Anyone there?” No one answered, it was just the horses. Then again Old Man Jenkins really didn’t bother speaking up that loudly.
“Okay is everyone here?” Someone said something…but it wasn’t him.
“Coulda swore I heard -“
“Roll call my little ponies, Apple Doom?”
“It’s actually Bloom, Mr. Turner.” Old Man Jenkins had really wished he brought a flashlight now; it was just him and the horses out here.
“Sweetie Belt?”
“Does he mean me?”That sounded like a little girl just now. Okay this was getting spooky someone was OBVIOUSLY talking but he couldn’t pin down where they were out here in the dark.
“Now where is Scootazoom?”
“D-did you just call me a camera?”
“Excellent! It looks like we all made it!”
“Hello! Whose out there?!” Everything went quiet except for some horses who you could hear whinny at the loud noises Jenkins was making.
“Did you foals here an old man yelling just now?”
“Uhh…what exactly does an old man yelling sound like? Is it anything like Granny Smith when she can’t find her walker?”
“Very apt Ms. Doom -”
“Bloom.”
“But now’s not the time for games, we have to solve the mystery of where this book brought us.” Just now in the dark by the light of the moon, Old Man Jenkins saw something that looked a white book with gold lettering on its cover catch the moon light.
The old man gasped and was briefly taken aback. That was most definitely a horse hoof that hoisted that book up. Jenkins lost the ability to speak or to even stand up at the moment as he fell backwards onto his rear. He had to have been seeing things. Seeing things and hearing things.
He just told himself it was anatomically impossible for horses to hold up objects in their hooves, and to talk, and to even be associated with a half-distant long gone memory from his days as a boy in London. Just best to forget about that for tonight and let Mr. Williams know he might have some extra guests in his grazing field tomorrow morning when he see’s him next.
“But what are we supposed to do in the mean time about the others?” Asked Sweetie Belle.
“We left everyone back home between a rock and a hard place.” Said Scootaloo.
“More rock than hard place really.” Quipped Apple Bloom.
There was a bright pink rock hoisted up in the night air, its color was strikingly similar to that of a pink pony they all knew.
“All part of the plan while we’re here, it’s two-fold in nature. Figure out this mysterious book to find out what happened to everypony back home, and then use that knowledge to fix our friends. So while here I’ll blend in with the natives anonymously and learn what they know to find out what makes this place so special. From now on ladies for the sake of anonymity, I am no longer Time Turner of Ponyville – call me Timmy Turner…Timmy Turner who has an affinity for pink things, like this rock!”
“Uhh…ah don’t really think these ponies can really help us much Mr. Time, uh…Timmy sir.”
“Nonsense! These fellow horses are good salt of the earth ponies. Hello chum, names Timmy what can you tell me about the local archaic energies of your world?” The random horse had no idea he was being addressed to in an intelligent manner so he just huffed at the brown pony talking to him and moved on to more quite pastures, this of course confounded the pony Mr. Timmy Turner who was holding onto a pink rock.
“Hrm, ladies I think we have our work cut out for us here.”
Meanwhile back at his home, Old Man Jenkins was making an appointment with the local hospital to get checked for Dementia.