Chapter 1
I have a love/hate relationship with running. Actually, I would prefer to call it some sort of masochistic-esque relationship a la 50 Shades of Grey. Only minus the girl, the suave business-man, the money, the……actually that’s probably a bad example.
Back home, I would sometimes start running because some little voice in the back of my head would tell me that it would be more fun to run than sit around on my butt. The only problem is that I don’t have a set time or distance when I start and I find myself a couple miles away from where I live with barely any recollection of how I got there. Consider it one of the results of being in the military for a little over four years; you keep running because the guy in front of you is running, even though you don’t know how long you’ve been running or how long you have to go until you’re done. You just grit your teeth, ignore the pain in your sides, and focus on the sound of your feet hitting the ground.
Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the benefits of running, like the feeling of accomplishment you get after finishing and the ability to eat something completely unhealthy later that day with almost no guilt. However, there is one thing I absolutely despise about running. Some people call it “the wall”. Some people call it the “Big Hurdle.” I just call it “Why am I suddenly running on an outdoor treadmill?” I hate those moments with a passion. It makes me feel weak and helpless; even more so when I just happen to be the one who created the challenge for myself. What usually gets me through those moments is my competitive personality and the thought of what I will treat myself to whenever I get finished; like a nice, medium-rare steak or a greasy cheeseburger.
Today, on the other hand, my motivation for running is quite different.
Today, I am running from eight, five or so foot tall equine-thingies covered in purple amour and wielding spears, screaming at me to stop resisting arrest.
Yup…….
Perhaps I should reel it back a bit and introduce myself.
My name is Derrick Jameson
And I have no idea where the hell I am.
------------
If I had to mark a starting point for this entire fiasco, it would have to be about five months ago, give or take a few days. That day, I got a phone call from my father asking me whether or not I had heard from Jeremy, my little brother, in the last few days. While I would be the first to admit that my last parting with my brother had not exactly been on the best of terms, he was still family, so I was a little concerned when Dad told me that he hadn’t been home in the last week. And by a little concerned, I mean worried out of my mind.
Anyone that has a younger sibling could probably relate. I mean, yeah, they can annoy the crap out of you, take your stuff sometimes without asking you, get you in trouble for yelling at them when they break aforementioned things, have a tendency to make you look like a douchebag in front of your girlfriend when you tell him to buzz off……where was I going with this again? Oh yeah.
Bottom line? He’s family. The way I view it, family is whatever you call the people you would put your life, and sometimes dignity, on the line for with little to no hesitation. Not because you’re selfless or some touchy-feely stuff, but because you know they would do the same for you. So when one of said family goes missing, your own troubles get put on hold until you find that idiotic son-of-a-gun.
Anyways, after talking with my Dad a bit, I managed to glean a little information about what had happened up till he disappeared. From what I gathered, the last person Jeremy talked to was Dad, which made him feel even worse. Their conversation was simple enough; Jeremy was just finishing up his fencing class in the next town over and was about to head home when Dad called and asked him if he could pick up a couple things on his way back. Since Dad and Katie tend to decide what they’re going to have for dinner that night at the last second, last-minute grocery runs are a common occurrence in our family. It used to fall on me to get ingredients, but since I moved and left ole’ SMDT (screaming-metal-death-trap) to Jeremy, it pretty much became his burden. I don’t think he minded it too much though. Having a car when you’re a sophomore in high school is huge status booster, even if it is a pile of scrap with wheels. Speaking of the ole’ rust bucket, it is probably what was the most unusual part of this entire situation. About an hour after Dad and Katie went out to look for him, they found the car parked on the side of the road. It was if Jeremy suddenly was inspired to take a nice stroll in the woods or something.
Sounds like the beginning of a bad horror movie, doesn’t it?
After I got all the information I could, I asked Dad the question that was at the forefront of my mind. “Is my room still unused?” Before Dad could blow a gasket at my seemingly random question, I explained to him that it would be cheaper to stay with them, rather than trying to find a hotel until we found Jeremy. After a short pause, Dad replied that they haven’t touched it since I went back home for terminal leave. Less than a couple hours later, I was had my duffel bag packed and was on the road. Since I was friends with the owner of the company at my new electrician job, I was able to secure a couple weeks’ vacation time, which gave me plenty of time to take the trip, find Jeremy, have a little holiday while Dad and Katie rip him a new one, and make it back. That was the plan, at least.
There’s a quote that goes: “The best laid schemes of mice and men, gang aft agley.”
Well that plan went agley.
It went very frikkin agley.
=======
The first day I arrived back home, I was woefully underprepared as to how badly Dad and Katie were tore up about his disappearance. I mean, yeah, I expected them to be in a bad way, but……Let me put it this way, I’ve only remembered seeing my Dad cry on two occasions. The first was Jeremy was born, which was when he was still sporting his moustache so it was just a little bit funny to watch. However, the second time was another matter entirely. It was about three days after Mom’s funeral and he, Jeremy, and I were going through some of the stuff Mom had in a storage lot. I’m not really sure what set him off, but it was as though an entire dam’s worth of tears had come pouring out at once and he wasn’t even trying to hold it back. Jeremy and I were on our way back from tossing some stuff in the garbage when I first heard his sobs echoing from the container. I told Jeremy to head back to the car for a bit and peeked inside.
You know, it’s funny, we often see our heroes as some sort of invincible, unwavering pillar of strength, but take away something that important, and you can see just how human they can be.
This time, the man who greeted me at the door was what was left of the man that I say that day. Every word he spoke was tinged with a bit of sorrow. Hell, even his movements seemed to exude a certain sense of hopelessness. I shudder to think what would have happened if Katie wasn’t there to support him. Then again, she looked a little worn out as well. Normally, if you put that little bundle of sarcasm and sunshine (a weird mix, I know, but she makes it work) in a room, she would liven the atmosphere with her off-kilter sense of humor or by blurting out whatever random thought that jostled around in that head of hers. I think the latter was the reason her and I got along so well; only whenever my mouth ignores that little filter in my brain for “things that you really shouldn’t say right now”, I usually end up sticking my foot inside. While this Katie still retained all the qualities I remembered, they seemed a little duller, as if they were a bright light bulb being covered with a thick, plastic sheath. Seeing the two of these wonderful people brought down to this level of sorrow nearly broke my heart.
But what hurt the most was what happened after I first knocked at the door.
It was a little before seven when I pulled into out driveway and the sun was starting to set on the horizon, casting the sky in a violent mix of pink, orange, and yellow hues. Stepping out of the car, I was suddenly reminded of just how different the weather was between the North-East and the Deep South, especially when it came to humidity during the summer months. It’s best described as being suddenly aware of all the air that is around you, like every single breath you take is coated in some sort of innocuous film making it seem heavy as you inhale. I really used to not notice it, living here all my life, but after traveling around so often, it became something I cherished because it brought forth all my childhood memories of playing outside in the summer sun. But now, the air carried with a new kind of weight to it and sat uncomfortably upon my shoulders like an unwanted backpack as I made my stopped onto the front porch. Hesitantly, I raised my hand and knocked on the front door, the sound echoing through the house as the bugs sung odes to the setting sun nearby. Immediately, I heard a clamoring of feet upon the floorboards as someone rushed to the front door. Coming to a stop, I heard the tumbling of the lock just before the door swung inward, revealing my father’s form. For a moment, I could see a look of hope flash across his face as he fully opened the door; but suddenly, it was replaced with a look of crushing despair as he plastered a small smile on his face.
“Welcome home.” He said, moving out of the way slightly, allowing me to come inside.
“Good to be back.” I replied, wiping my shoes on the welcome mat and stepping in.
“You have more bags, or is that it?” He asked, gesturing towards the duffel bag I held as he shut the door behind me.
“I was in a rush, so I only brought my bug-out bag.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, unless you grew a lot since the last time you were here.” He stated as he moved towards the living room. “Katie went to go get groceries about an hour ago, so she should be back in a minute. You look like you could use a nap or something, but I’m sure she’ll wake you up in time for dinner. ”
“Thank you.” I said as I made my way toward the stairs. However, something in my gut told me that I should at least try to say something. “Hey Dad?”
“Yeah?” he replied, pausing to look back at me.
“We’ll find him.” I stated, steeling my face as much as I could.
In that few moments of silence that followed, I could see a bit of my hero shining through as his smile became a little more truthful. “Yeah.” He said, continuing trudge into the room.
Dad stood at about an inch or two past six feet with thinning dark hair and was in decent shape thanks to Katie pushing him to go to the gym regularly. But right then, watching his back as I made my way up the stairs, he never looked so small.
-----
Upon reaching my destination, I opened the door and flipped the light switch. Huh. They weren’t lying when they said that it was pretty much the same way I left it I thought as the illumination painted a familiar scene. My bedroom wasn’t extravagant by any means. Aside from the bed, a set of drawers, and a small desk where my computer used to sit, a chair, there wasn’t anything that screamed “this is the domicile of a modern teenage male.” Some people would call me a lazy decorator. I would’ve just called myself a decorator with a penchant for minimalism. Actually that’s one of the first things I learned when I was in the Navy: If you make a half-truth sound fancy enough, people tend to accept it as fact. Even if it was a boatload of crap.
After entering, I sat my bag on the floor and allowed myself to unceremoniously fall face-first onto the bed, eliciting a barely audible creak as the bedspring rose to accommodate my weight. Slipping my shoes off my feet, I reached up and grabbed the nearest pillow, placing it in between my face and the mattress. “Oh sweet pillow, tell me your secrets.” I thought, turning my head to a less asphyxiating position and closing my eyes.
That’s when it hit me.
I was home.
Granted, it was under the worst circumstances possible, but I was home.
The malaise I had gained from the nine hour drive slowly drained away, leaving me fully awake and alert. Resigning myself to the waking world, I rolled over, put my hands behind my head, and stared at the familiar ceiling. “So much for getting a nap in.” I thought, letting out a sigh. I don’t remember how long I stayed lost in my jumbled thoughts, but after what seemed like hours, my thoughts turned back to the reason I had returned home.
“Seems like a good place to start.” I said aloud, raising myself off the bed.
===
My brother and I have always had this rule about each other’s rooms. Nothing official, really, but it was one of those things we both acknowledged as we grew older. It boiled down to whether not the door was open or not. If it was, then you were free to enter, even if the brother wasn’t there. If it wasn’t, you had to knock and get permission to come inside. However, if you knew for a fact they were inside and the brother in question didn’t answer, you just back off and let him finish whatever he was doing and let him get back to you. Lastly, if the door was shut, then you would only enter under extensive circumstances. It wasn’t really as though we had anything to hide from each other, I think, but more to do with respect. When we were young, Jeremy and I were almost mirror images of one another, but over the years, we began to find different interests and kind of came into our own. In all the years of the two of us living in a separate rooms, I think I’ve only entered his room maybe two times when he wasn’t there. Although right then, as I found myself staring at my little brothers room, I wished that this was just another one of those rare moments from way back when and not under such morbid circumstances.
Reflexively, I brought my hand up to knock on the door before I realized what I was doing. With a huff I placed the hand on the doorknob and turned, stepping into my brother’s domain. Flipping the light switch, I took in the slightly foreign scene before me. For the most part, everything was pretty much how I remembered: A king sized bed with dark blue covers, a few band posters and some weird painting he found at a garage sale on the walls, a stop sign that I gave to him on his birthday sitting next to a shelf full of books and comics, a set of drawers, his fencing mask-thingy on the floor, and a writing desk where my old computer sat. However, something on the desk caught my eye. “Those are new.” I said, aloud, looking at the group of tiny horse figurines sitting next to the monitor and keyboard. Picking up one up, I inspected it closely, trying to figure out why these seemed so familiar. It was a purple-ey color with a horn sticking out of its’ dark purple hair and a star on its butt. Turning it upside-down, I inspected the figures’ hooves.
“Something Something Pony,” I began, reading the raised plastic lettering. “Alrighty then.”
My time in the barracks had pretty much made something like a teenage guy having strange collectibles normal for me now, so seeing some like pastel-colored ponies of my brother’s desk didn’t faze me too much. Having a roommate that collected dress-able anime models that were part airplane, part girl set the bar pretty high for me; although, it made me realize that everyone has their own things that make them happy and, as long as it’s not hurting anyone, I shouldn’t hold it against them. Still, it was kind of weird that Jeremy didn’t tell me about his new hobby. Typically, he would geek out over some show, movie, comic, or what have you, and would immediately bombard me with e-mails about how I should join him in his merriment. It was hit-or-miss for me sometimes but, thanks to his insistence, I’ve been introduced to some pretty awesome things that I would have otherwise been unaware of.
Although, the less I have to say about Homestuck, the better.
This pony thing, on the other hand, kinda threw me off a bit. Jeremy never talked about it in any of his e-mails and it seemed kind of out of place for him. Placing the little pony figure back on the desk with the others, I took a look at the nick-knacks he had on the shelf next to his books. “Boot knife, 550 cord, Gundam model, puzzle box, playing cards,” I thought before turning back to the group of ponies. “Huh. Combo breaker.”
A light knock broke my train of thought and I turned to see Katie standing in the doorway. She looked a little worn, but she still had a smile on her face. Even though it lacked the luster of her usual smiles. “It’s good to see you back Derrick.” She began, walking into the room a giving me a hug.
“Good to be back.” I replied returning her embrace before letting go. “How have the two of you been holding up?”
“Me and Mike? I would say alright, but…..”She let out a small sigh and sat on the bed before continuing. “This thing with Jeremy hit us both pretty hard. Mike especially.”
“I saw him downstairs. I haven’t seen him like that since Mom.” I said, sitting next to her.
“Me too. But believe it or not, he’s actually gotten a little better. For the first couple of days, he would just sit next to the phone whenever he wasn’t at work. It was only a day or so ago that I finally managed to make him get a full-nights’ sleep.”
“Have the police been much help in the search?”
“They’re trying. Mike’s got a couple friends on the force, so they’ve been putting a lot of effort into finding Jeremy. But the trail just sort of……well… stops. It’s like he just vanished.”
“No signs of a struggle or anything?”
“From what I’ve overheard? No. They searched the car after they found it and couldn’t find any evidence of a carjacking or something like that,” Katie said tiredly, plopping onto the bed. “At this point, there are probably rumors that he ran away. But what kind of runaway leaves behind a fully-functional car? Hell, there were still groceries in the damn thing.”
“Were the keys inside?”
“Nope. Had to find the spare so we could turn the car over to the police. I’m guessing Jeremy still has them, wherever he is.” With a huff, Katie pulled herself up and off the bad and turned to face me, looking me square in the eyes. “Look, Derrick. I know you didn’t come down here just to comfort Mike and I, so if there’s a chance that whatever you’re gonna do is going to get you in trouble, tell me now.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds while I processed her statement. Katie wasn’t very intimidating, normally. Standing at about 5’ 6” with short, chestnut hair and a slightly skinner than average frame, she seemed like a regular 40-something year-old woman. However, experience had taught me that beneath all that was a woman who should never be crossed. Especially when said woman used to kick-box and now practices Judo in her spare time. So after careful deliberation, I decided to choose the honest route, as to avoid her asking me to be a sparring partner the next time she went to the gym.
“I’m only planning to do a little investigating of my own. Nothing that would get me in trouble with the cops or anything, I think, but if they tell me to back off, I promise I will try to comply. At least to a certain extent.”
After a few seconds, a smirk played across Katie’s face. “Alright. Just try not to get locked up, or else I shall have to use my feminine whiles to charm you out of the holding cell.” She said, tossing her hair with her hand dramatically.
I will not snort. I will not laugh. For laughter is the mind-killer. I thought to myself.
“Anyways, how’s the new job treating you? I remember my brother saying that it was a bit rough moving from military to the civie side.” Katie said, looking back toward me. “Come on, I picked up some take out.”
“Not too bad. Still have to get used to not wearing a uniform, though.” I stated, standing up from the bed.
“Hmm, “she began, walking towards the door. “ Here’s a little pearl of wisdom I got from my brother: “We all have a uniform we wear, whether we realize it or not.” It just so happens that yours used to paint a big target on you back in some countries.”
========
The next two weeks went by pretty quickly as I fell into a new routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, help clean up around the house, go out and do a little digging around, eat lunch, more investigating, then go back home. After talking to a couple of his friends and a couple teachers from his school, some of the students of the fencing class in the town over , a few workers from the grocery store, and a couple of my friends that knew about my brother, I managed to find
Nothing. I thought to myself as I leaned back in the computer chair, staring at the ceiling in Jeremy’s room. I had just looked through his computer files and browser history after getting a password cracker from one of my more computer savvy friends. Besides finding some, let’s just call them interesting, pictures in his art folder, there wasn’t anything that would indicate something was after him or that he had any intention of running away. After about thirty minutes of sleuthing, the only thing I gained was a deeper sense of confusion.
“Fuck.” I muttered aloud, scratching my head in irritation. “Where the hell are you?” Leaning forward I sighed and began shutting off the computer. As the screen switched from the desktop to the shut-down background, I let my tired gaze wander across the computer desk until I locked onto the little pony figurines. Picking up one, I looked it square in the eyes and asked, “Don’t suppose that you know where my brother is, do you?”
My inquiry was met with silence as the figurine’s lifeless, purple eyes stared back at me.
“You are way too purple.” I muttered, setting it down with the others. Going back to looking at the ceiling, I pondered all the events that led up to that point. Right up until he left his fencing class, everything that Jeremy experienced that day was completely ordinary. If he had plans to run away, there would have been some sort of subtle hints here and there. If he was kidnapped or taken, we would have had heard a ransom or there would have been signs of a struggle in the car. I even did a quick survey of the woods surrounding where they found the car, much to the sheriff department’s chagrin, and found nothing strange. No kidnapper is that good. All I was left with was questions with answers that only served to add to the mess.
What if someone was waiting in the car when he got out of the store? Jeremy would have noticed them in the backseat when he loaded the bags.
And if he didn’t? Then there would have been groceries thrown everywhere when the person leapt up to surprise him.
What if someone tried to carjack him at a stoplight? There were groceries in the passengers’ seat as well, so they would have been thrown in the back or squished if someone jumped in the car.
Suppose that he parked on the side of the road to get out and smoke as to avoid detection by Dad and Katie and was taken by some group? Jeremy would have seen the kidnappers coming. Besides, that wouldn’t have worked anyways; Katie’s got a nose like a bloodhound.
Alien abduction? Shut up brain.
“I need some air.” I muttered, rising up from the chair and heading towards the door. Before shutting off the lights, I gave one last glance at my brother’s vacant room. “Dammit Jeremy.”
=----=
Less than a minute later, I was back in my old room and putting on a pair of shoes. After tying the knot, I got up and began to look for the stuff I usually grabbed when I went out. A belt, my black 550 cord bracelet, my wallet, and phone were easy enough to find. However, I let my hand hover over my keys for a moment before taking them and stuffing them in my pocket. I guess a walk couldn’t hurt.
I made my way downstairs and was nearly at the door when a thought stuck me. Don’t want them to worry or anything. I quickly scrounged around the house for a something to write with and onto. After a minute or so, I managed to find a scrap of loose-leaf paper and a pen in the junk drawer of the kitchen. Moving to the living room, I hastily scrawled out:
Went out for a bit. I’ll try to be back before it gets too dark – Derrick.
After placing it in the living room, I took out my phone and texted Dad and Katie the message as well. While it may have seemed like a redundancy, I’ve found that the two of them rarely look at their phone whenever they’re at their jobs, so it didn’t hurt to have at least a back-up waiting for them back home.
Heh. A grown man leaving notes to his parents about going out. It’s not like I have a curfew nowadays. I thought stepping outside. But given the circumstances, giving them some peace of mind would be best. After taking a deep breath of that humid, Southern air, I chose a random direction and started walking into the evening sun.
=-----=
One of the best thing about my town was the fact that it was nearly impossible to get lost. A right turn here, a left turn there, and you would find yourself on the main road that runs through the entire town. Follow that road for about ten minutes or so in a car and you’d find yourself in the next town over. That little quirk was the reason I wasn’t too surprised when I found myself on the town border, looking at the long stretch of road that my brother traveled all those weeks ago. A quick glance at my phone let me know that I had been wandering for a little under two hours and if the way the sun was setting on the horizon was any indication, I probably wouldn’t have made it back to the house before nightfall, even if I tried running the entire way.
Meh. Might as well take another look. I thought, letting my feet carry me farther away from the town.
The site of Jeremy’s apparent disappearance was about two miles away from the town limits; at least that’s where they found the car anyways. Aside from a few bits of leftover caution tape the police attached to the trees, the area itself was undiscernible from the rest of the road: just another stretch of cracked tar next to one of the dense pockets of trees that dotted the route.
I think that’s the reason why this entire thing just sounded off to me. I thought to myself as a neared my destination. I ran a full sweep of the woods a few times and found absolutely nothing of interest, so why did Jeremy stop here? Hmmm.
Rather than stopping at the scene, I went a couple yards past and turned around. “What in the world would did you see?” I muttered, letting my eyes survey the scene. Maybe. I squatted down a little until I was about eye-level to where I sat when I was driving. Nope. Same trees and everything. Rising up, I was met by the sound of my kneecaps popping and a slight sense of imbalance. Huh. I snorted I sound like an old man. Writing it off as vertigo, I began to make my way along the road towards the patch of trees. However, as I neared the scene the sense of imbalance stayed, making me a little dizzy and light-headed.
Wow. Ok. What the hell. Am I having a heat stroke or something? I thought as I stepped off the road and into the growing shade of the trees. I doubt I’m that dehydrated. Heck, I’m not even thirsty right now. Finding a comfortable spot in the grass and shade, I sat down and closed my eyes for a moment to collect my bearings. After a few controlled breaths, I opened my eyes again. Alright. That can’t be good. What I saw could be, at best, described as a messed up form of tunnel vision. Along the edges of my sight, a thick haze of gray and white began to creep slowly inward. Shit. Shit. Shit. Panicked, I thrust my hand into my pocket to grab my phone. Grasping it, I brought it up to where the haze hadn’t blocked my vision. Alright. Power button. Slide. Emergency Call. I thought, following along with the actions as my field of vision became narrower and narrower. As my thumb hit the nine on the screen, I suddenly found myself unable to move my finger to the other number. NO! NO! COME ON! I screamed internally, trying to will my thumb to keep moving as the haze slowly overtook my sight. I DON’T WANT TO DIE!
It’s funny, you know? There’s this thing in movies where a dying person sees their life played out again in a flash, where time seems still around them until they reach their inevitable end. Honestly? I don’t remember if I had that kind of experience. Then again, I suppose I wasn’t really dying, so maybe that’s the reason that little experience wasn't there. However, there are two things I now remember passing though my head during those few seconds before everything faded away:
1. Dying like this sucks majorly.
2. Why the hell is my bracelet glowing?
And after that?
Pure and total oblivion.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been knocked unconscious before, and what I experienced was nothing like the darkness that comes when your brain presses the stop button for a moment. The sensation I experienced was more akin do being blinded, numbed all over, and tossed into water. Only, for some strange reason, I was still able to differentiate between myself and the nothingness that was around me. Even stranger, I was nagged by an acute awareness that something was…..well off about that place and that I should definitely not be there. It was like the darkness was alive and screaming at me for intruding into its territory and the longer I stayed, the more savage and guttural the screams became. After a while, the feeling grew more and more overbearing until it felt like an enormous weight sat squarely on my immobile shoulders. And then all of a sudden, the pressure stopped.
And then the pain began.
I remember reading an article a long while back that said, I’m paraphrasing of course, that there exists a limit on the amount of pain that the human body can experience before it just shuts off the pain receptors. If there really is such a limit, then I was definitely on the cusp of total shutdown, yet unable to attain the sweet release of either numbness, unconsciousness, or death. If I had to give it an example, it would be like turning a high-pressure water hose on full blast and standing in front of it; however, liquid fire or acid came out and slowly ate its way across my flesh, cauterizing my wounds and burning through my scabs continuously. My insides didn’t fare much better. If you’ve ever had the misfortune to have your organs exposed to air, then you would have a vague idea of what was happening there. If you haven’t, imagine your insides suddenly becoming coated in IcyHot, with the vapors being trapped inside.
Now magnify that pleasant image by twenty.
Yeah.
For however long I was in there, it sucked to be me.
I will be the first to admit that I cried. Heck, I think the phrase,”Just end it all” passed through my head a couple of times. Thankfully, it eventually did and I was in the hostile darkness once again. Now broken in as many ways I could think of, I began to slowly drift further and further away.
------
Now I’ve never been much of a heavy sleeper. Nearly the opposite, actually. There are certain sounds that jolt me awake almost instantly, like the fumbling of keys, the sound of a door opening or shutting, a creak of a floorboard, the beginning of the alarm on my phone, and a couple others. For the most part, this little quirk has always proven useful when dealing with prank-happy roommates and family members. Although, there are times when I wish that I could sleep like a brick when all of seven hells is crashing around me. That being said, there are very few times that I wake up surprised. Often though, I react to such violent awakenings with….let’s just call it equal, if not greater, enthusiasm. This has lead me to many a awkward situation that often end in me apologizing profusely while the other person lies in the fetal position, howling in pain.
Looking back, after experiencing pain the likes of which should never be experienced by a mortal being, I’m not too shocked to learn that I was essentially comatose even though I was lying on a cold, stone floor. However, waking up on the floor was not what really surprised me.
Waking up to a heavily breathing, purple, equine face with eyes the size of dinner plates staring down from less than a foot away from my face is what scared me.
So I did what I would normally do.
I screamed and punched the thing in front of me as hard as I could.
It probably was not the wisest thing I could do at that exact moment, but come on. I’m sure that if you had put anyone else in that position, they would do the same.
Probably.
Anyways, after I swung and knocked the purple thing out of my direct line of sight, I scrambled to my feet to see just what in the world I actually hit. What I saw shattered my manhood and flooded my panicking heart with remorse. Lying about a foot away was a purple horse-thing, her (I assumed it was a she because of the color…….that sounds a lot more racist than it should) eyes flowing with tears as she clutched the side of her face in pain. I’m an absolute wimp around furry animals, so even though a small part of my brain was yelling at me to stop for a second to figure out just where the hell I was, most my mind was a jumbled mess of Oh shit-s, Crap-s, Why did I do that-s, and Make the purple thing stop crying, you idiot-s. After my initial shock wore off, my remorse won out my survival instinct and I took a step towards the simpering equine. Hearing my footfall, the purple thing’s face shot up as the rest of her clinched tighter. Even though I was still a small distance away, I could tell that the place I had hit was already swelling up and would probably bruise for a while but what really broke my heart was the amount of fear that radiated from her gaze. It was as though I had cornered a puppy after kicking it a couple of times.
She was looking at me as though I was a monster and at that moment, I certainly felt like one.
I’ve never really owned a dog or something similar, so I just went with what seemed like the best way to calm the purple thing down or at least show it that I was not a threat. Slowly kneeling down until I was about eye level with her, I reached out, saying, “It’s alright. I didn’t mean to hit you or anything, it’s just…ummm. Sorry. Please stop crying.”
As I began talking, the purple thing’s ears went rigid as her eyes grew even wider. By the time I finished my rambling, her jaw was lowered to an almost cartoonish depth. Wow, I guess that she can understand me, kinda. I thought, beckoning her to come closer.
“ Umm. I really didn’t mean anything by it, but I think I might have swung a little harder than I should’ve…..Wait not that I mean that I should have hit you at all! I mean, I was just surprised, is all. Umm. Is it alright if I take a closer look?” I whispered, slowly rising up to my feet as I tried to maintain eye contact with the horse-thingy. As I raised up to my full height, I noticed her mouth moving slightly as though she were trying to form words. Thinking little of it, I took a step forward. However, as my foot touched the stone floor, a single word echoed across the room, causing me to freeze in my steps.
“You.” A low, feminine voice whimpered. A pregnant second passed before the obviously shocked voice continued. “You can talk.” The mare stated shockingly.
---
Looking back, this could quite easily have been a the most historic event in human history. A meeting of two cultures, separated by millions of miles of space. In the span of a few seconds I had achieved what most astronomers have sought after ever since mankind first thought “I wonder if there is something else out there.” First contact.
And the first face-to-face interaction between mankind and an alien species was me screaming punching it in the face.
Yup.
In light of that, what I said next and the events that followed seemed better by comparison.
---
“Oh fuck.” I muttered as my expression mirrored the mare’s.
Suddenly, a boom echoed through the room as a door was thrown open.
“Princess!” A gruff, penetrating voice shouted as the sound of hooves and wings rushed towards the two of us. “ Are you alright? We heard an explosion that was louder than usual and.” The voice stopped as a pair of dark-grey stallions (I’m guessing that they were stallions because of the voice.) draped in sinister-looking purple armor skidded to a halt as they arrived at the scene.
In those scant few seconds of silence, I could almost see the sequence of thoughts passing through the pair’s minds:
1. The mare, evidently a princess, is battered on the floor with a wicked bruise forming on the side of her face.
2. There is a thing here that is probably guilty of causing aforementioned bruise.
3. Thing is probably dangerous and should be separated from the princess mare as quickly as possible with as much force as needed.
---
I didn’t mean a lot better. On the bright side, purple princess mare had stopped crying at that point. So…yay?