//------------------------------//
// Chapter II 
// Story: The Lost Princess 
// by Takarashi282 
//------------------------------//


Chapter II

Word of advice: don't fall off cliffs. It's not fun. 
My gut churned as a felt myself accelerating. The wind rushed by, deafening me. The last thing I saw was the right edge of the waterfall zooming past when everything suddenly went black. 



I awakened in a pitch black chamber. I rubbed my eyes. Weirdly, as I pulled my hand away, I could see it as if a studio light was on it. But when I moved it, I temporarily had ten fingers on one hand rather than the normal five, as if the light was lagging behind.
“Hello?” A feminine voice called, echoing softly across the chamber. “Is someone there?”
I blinked. In front of me was a blur of lavender. She was very short--like, her-head-would-come-to-my-waist-short, hollow strikes like clopping hooves following her as she came closer. 
I tried to reply, but it was as if I was trying to breathe through syrup. What came out was a small gargle. She’s on a horse? I thought. How small is this person? 
The lavender blob moved closer, her appearance fleshing out. She was on all fours, and what I could only assume were her eyes wide in concern. But something was way different. What I was looking at wasn’t human.
She gasped. “Wait, you're him. The one we sent back.”



I woke up in a hospital bed, my head feeling like it was floating. An IV was plugged into my arm, greenish medical tape covering it. I tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in my back kept me back. I cursed. 
And then I realized my mom was there. She held a newspaper in hand, one of the headlines reading “Crazy Teens: What will Millennials Ruin Next?” Underneath, there was a low-saturated image of a guy about my age, clothes in tatters, puncture wounds all over his body. 
Setting down the paper, my mom looked up, her black bangs brushing against her forehead. She was barely middle-aged, but her tired, blue eyes showed many more years of struggle than her face would show. Nonetheless, she smiled. 
“Easy there, partner,” she said, her soft, southern-tinged accent soothing over me. “You took quite the fall.”
Then I remembered it. The weightlessness. The deafening wind. I stirred. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
She nodded, her eyes now filled with concern. “Well, Rug is now officially expelled. Heard that he was in tears all the way back down the trail. My word, he took quite the whoopin’ this morning.”
This morning, I thought. I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to me. It read 5:06 PM. 
“I was out for about twelve hours… ” I said, though it was more if a question than anything. 
She nodded. “Yep. You’d almost drowned. Scared the living bejeezus out of me. Came as fast as I could.” She managed a smile again. “But you've always been a heavy sleeper. No wonder why you were out so long, right?”
I didn't know that my sleeping habits had any effect on how long I stayed unconscious. But I just nodded, uttering a small, “Yeah.”
Then I remembered Al. “How's Al doing?”
Mom shook her head. “He was worried sick. Nearly ran the whole way down the trail. He was mighty relieved to see you were still alive, though.”
“He isn’t hurt, though?” I asked. “Rug slapped him across the face pretty hard.”
Mom traced her right cheek. “Got a real shiner, but nothing too serious.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. Poor Al. I'd already worried him sick when I walked up to the edge of the cliff… 
I froze. The voice. The voice that told me to jump off the cliff. It was the same voice that belonged to that… thing that was lingering in my dreams. What on earth is going on? I thought.
My mom cocked her head sideways. “Rodrick,” she asked softly. “Is there anything wrong?”
I paused, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I considered the state of my mental health. I swallowed, then shook my head. “Nah,” I managed, my inflection dry. “I'm fine. Just a little bit of deja vu.” A complete lie, but how could you tell your mom that a purplish demon possessed you to almost fall off a cliff, that same thing reappearing in your dreams and telling you that you’ve been sent back?
I mentally facepalmed. Like that, I thought. But, she couldn’t possibly believe that… could she?
My mom nodded. “You've been here for few times, haven't you?” Her eyes were distant. “The last time you were here, you'd broken your arm on the monkey bars in sixth grade.”
“And broke the monkey bars themselves,” I remembered. I knit my eyebrows. “Jeez, I have a knack for screwing things up.”
Mom giggled when I heard a vibration, a Cello-Piano duet coming in suit. My heart sank once again. That was her and Principal Celestia’s favorite song. It used to be the ring tone of her contact, but I guess my mom must have put it as the default. 
As soon as it rang out, the tenseness in her shoulders relaxed. She let it ring for a second before she finally answered it.
“Hello?” she greeted. A pause. “Yep, I'll be right there. Thank you kindly.” Pause. “Uh-huh. Buh-bye.”
She hung up, placing her phone back into her pocket. “Shoot, I need to head on into work. Pesky client.”
“Jeez,” I sighed. “Well, don't kill anyone.”
“I'm not Al, but sure.” She stood and walked to the door. Opening it, she uttered a small, “Love ya, darlin’.”
“Love you too, mom,” I replied. 
She smiled, almost closing the door, but turned around and stuck her head in. “Oh, yeah. You should be out in three hours. Jeff’ll pick you up. Be sure to remind him to pick up your prescription, would ya?”
I nodded. “I will, mom.”
Another smile. “See you later, darlin’.” She closed the door softly behind her, leaving me to my lonesome once more. 



My mom’s estimate was about right. The doctors notified me that nothing was broken, a miracle considering how far I'd fallen. They also notified me that I would be sore for the next couple of days, with a huge purple bruise on my back. Joy. 
Jeff picked me up about fifteen minutes after I was let go. He was about the same age as my mom, but somehow he looked much older. He had a longer, disheveled, sandy-blond beard, and matching hair that rested on his shoulders. If it weren't for three-piece business suit, it'd be easy to see him as a hobo. 
We quietly walked to the car. Jeff was a man of few words; he never spoke without purpose. So whenever he called me by name, I knew something was up. 
But when we got into the car, he said softly, in a rough-ish baritone, “So. How was your day?”
I was shocked. “Uh.” I struggled to find the words. “Good. Was, er… knocked off a cliff. All that fun stuff.” I cursed under my breath. I wasn't particularly good at small talk either. 
“Nice,” he said. His face turned slack as he turned on the ignition. “I-I mean, not nice, but…”
“It's all right, Jeff,” I forgave. 
He nodded. He was like this from the day my mom met him. Since then, he came out of his shell a little bit, the whole reason why he got the job at the company he works for today.
“How did your mom take it?” He asked, pulling out of the parking lot. The yellow lights from the streetlamps illuminated his face one after another as the car moved.
“Pretty well, all things considered,” I answered, scratching the back of my head. “I could tell that she was concerned, but she didn't freak out in front of me, at least.”
He nodded. “Yeah. It's just… y’know how your mom's been since your dad left.”
I nodded as well, my expression turning grave. My biological father left when I was six, and it left my mom in shambles. She would often be disconnected, distant, and whenever reality set in, she would break down. It was absolutely miserable for her, and her depression only made it worse. I was stuck wondering what kind of monster would leave his family like that.
That's where Jeff came in. It was when my mom broke down in a supermarket, and he was the first and only one to try to console her. Amazingly, it worked. He was able to convince my mom to take medication, and get her to therapy. Ever since then, mom’s depression had become less intense, she was able to find a better paying job… and the rest is history.
It took me a while to realize that I was smiling. Jeff’s kindheartedness was infectious in many ways. Looking back on it now, it was one of the many things I looked up to him for.
The rest of the trip went by in relative silence. We swung by the pharmacy and picked up my anxiety medication (it, along with depression, runs in the family), and we headed home. 
He dropped me off at the doorstep, wishing me a good recovery, and drove off. When I reached into my pocket, I was relieved that my belongings were still in tact, despite having been drenched in salt water. My wallet was a little shriveled, but that was the extent of the damage; I never took my phone with me during outdoorsy things.
I flipped the wallet open, procured my key, unlocked the door, and entered my house. The living room was dark, with the familiar scent of spent candles mixed with the light tinge of stale coffee lingering inside. My mom’s desk lined the wall to the left of me, the sofas surrounding a relatively small TV. It had a pile of paperwork and blueprints scattered on the tabletop, a coffee mug right behind the swivel chair right in front of it.
Ever since my mom got the job as a contractor, she’d been working herself to the bone to keep ourselves afloat. I was lucky enough to get an interview for a job at a local restaurant that I still wasn’t called back about. If there was some way I could’ve helped financially, to help take the strain off her shoulders, I would.
I walked over to the desk and organized the documents, cleaned off the desk and the rest of the living room. It was the least I could do.
Afterward, even though I had just woken up some three hours before, I felt physically drained. I dragged myself into my room, crashed in bed, and was out like a light. 



I appeared in the same dark chamber. I furrowed my brow. Again? I thought. 
“Hello,” a voice greeted behind me, scaring the crap out of me. I turned, and I was shocked. 
In front of me was a lavender horse. Smooth, feathery wings were folded to its sides. A horn protruded from her forehead, surrounded with a light, mystic glow. Her mane was a night-like blue, with a red streak running through it like a sunset at dusk. Her eyes were a dark shade of purple, gazing affably, yet also interested and hungry. 
“Er… yo,” I stammered to the talking horse. 
She giggled, raising a hoof. “Don't worry,” she reassured, her voice an energetic soprano. “I've seen this reaction before. You're fine.”
I couldn't even process what she’d just said. “What. Who. Why?”
She giggled once more. “Perhaps I should introduce myself.” She gestured to herself. “I'm Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship. And you're the key to help me find Princess Celestia.”