For Lack of a Better Word
by Gunsmith
As far as waking thoughts go, realizing one is face-down on the ground is not one of the best. Thick blades of grass press against my face; a fresh scent, one like that of a recently-mowed lawn, fills my nose. The turf brushes against my skin, making it itch a little. I grow tired of lying on the ground. I begin moving my arms, which I find are splayed out to my sides, and slowly begin pushing myself up.
I bring my legs around in front of me, placing myself into a sitting position. My chest and face have that odd feeling of pressure that is a result of being laid upon for a long period of time; I bring my hands to my face and rub it to get rid of the sensation. Even with my eyes closed and my hands pressed against them, I can tell it is fairly bright outside, which is where I assume I am. The air feels warm, on the verge of hot, and seems fairly neutral in terms of humidity. The heat of the sun beats down on my back, creating a relaxing warmth.
While I continue trying to bring feeling back into my face, I begin trying to make some sense of where I am. I don't hear much, save for some birds happily singing in the distance and a light breeze blowing against my ears. Tall grasses brush up against my arms, bringing some goosebumps to my skin. My mouth has that taste of morning, a sort of sour flavor that isn't very pleasant. Now that my nose isn't pressed to the ground, the air smells much more normal, a type of smell I can associate with summertime. The only sense left to help me recognize where I am is my sight; being so, I decide to open my eyes.
Upon first glance, sight doesn't help much, either. My vision is blurry and distorted; all I see is a mass of light green around me, coming up to my neck. I take a guess that I'm in a field or plain of some sort. How did I end up in a field? I blink rapidly a few times, trying to clear the fog from my vision, and move to stand up. I'm on my feet quickly; a little too quickly. A wave of nausea comes over me, and a black haze outlines my vision. Spots dance across my eyes, and I stumble forward. I lose my balance and fall forwards, landing in a new patch of tall grasses on my hands and knees. To my dismay, I vomit.
Emptying my stomach, I bring my right shoulder to my mouth, wiping it on my T-shirt. God damn it...I spit on the ground below me in an attempt to rid my mouth of the vile taste of stomach acid. Throwing up is not something I do often, a fact I'm thankful for. I cough a few times, then spit again before rocking back into a sitting position. I bring my knees up and rest my forehead against my jeans, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh of disgust. My next thought is: how much did I have to drink last night?
I shove the thought away, answering myself with, nothing. There would be no reason for me to do so, due to both a lack of money and a lack of a taste for alcohol. Am I sick? I question next. I tell myself that's just as unlikely, being that I don't get sick often and that I don't feel sick. I rack my brain, trying to search my memory for what could have led up to me ending up vomiting in a field. My head feels like it's spinning, and colorful spots continue to dot the darkness inside my eyelids.
Then what?
I don't have an answer, so I continue sitting quietly, resting my head on my knees and rubbing my temples. I hear a trace of a new sound, a steady one. A soft thump, thump, thump, thump. I muse about its origins, eventually placing it as some sort of bird flying low overhead. It would makes sense, seeing as how quiet it is where I am.
The peace mildly disturbs me; I wonder where I am. I know it is definitely not the city I live in, at the least. The question of where I am grows larger in my mind, soon becoming a priority, just behind recovering from the mess on the ground in front of me. I don't think I know of any places like this, quiet and relaxing. If I did, I would be visiting them a lot. But I don't, so some worry enters my mind. I try to ignore it, though, seeing as how I doubt anyone will try to mug or murder me in a field in broad daylight. Well...
The cynic in me dissipates into the recesses of my mind as I focus on the thumping noise. If I'm not mistaken, it seems to be growing louder. I want to look, but the acidic taste in my mouth keeps my eyes closed and my head on my knees. If it's a bird, it'll get scared and go away eventually. The steady beats continue; I actually begin playing a song in my thoughts, tapping my foot lightly in rhythm. Some people find electronic music obnoxious, but I like it. It lets me relax, clear my head as I focus on all of the different overlays.
Thump, thump, thump, thump. The beating is clearly audible now, and continues on for a few seconds. Then, it stops, just like that. I hear what sounds like footsteps, making the grasses of the field crackle a little as they are pressed down.
"Hey, you alright?"
The voice comes from my left, where the beating and footsteps came from. It has a noticeably scratchy sort of sound to it, and is an odd voice, a unique one. Definitely female, sort of high-pitched, and scratchy. I again want to turn and see the source, but tell myself to keep my eyes closed. Don't want to get sick again.
I nod my head into my knees, trying to make it visible to whoever is questioning me. I hear some more stepping; it sounds like multiple people stepping at once, rather than just one. I wonder for a moment how much attention I have attracted.
"Oh, gross, did you throw up? You sure you're okay?" the scratchy-voiced woman, maybe a girl, questions again. I frown into my pants and lift my hand, waving it towards her to signify for her to go away, that I'll be fine.
"What're you doing out in this field? Lost?"
You don't give up easily, do you? I shrug my shoulders.
"Wait...what are you? A Diamond Dog?" I hear a gasp. "Are you Bighoof?!" My face contorts in confusion. A what? I open my eyes, forgetting my nausea momentarily. Much to my relief, most of the spinning and spots seem to be gone. I look over, towards the disembodied voice that has been questioning me.
What I see is...
...well, honestly, I have no idea what I'm looking at. I begin rapidly analyzing everything that stands to my left. A few things are extremely noticeable about it. The first are the eyes; large, very large, abnormally so, and a bright purple, magenta, cerise? in color. They are probably the size of my fist, maybe bigger; the creature's eyes stare at me with curiosity and question. The next is the burst of color atop its head. It has fairly long hair, which is of six individual colors; I note that each is a color in a rainbow, ordered in the usual red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. The hair comes down over its forehead and around one side of its neck; I see more of the colorful hair behind it, arranged in a tail of some sort. The body of the creature is a light blue in color. The last notable feature is that it stands on four legs, which look more like simple, sky-blue cylinders.
My mind begins piecing the details together, and I eventually arrive at the conclusion that I am looking at a horse. A technicolor horse with very, very large eyes. Something else registers in my vision; a pair of what appear to be wings rest against the sides of the colorful horse.
A Pegasus. A blue-and-rainbow Pegasus with eyes the size of small plates.
Nothing looks right about it, though. It resembles a horse, but it's all out of proportion. The face and muzzle are smaller, the eyes much larger, the legs thicker and un-detailed, and of course, the wings and its colors. My jaw goes slack as I stare in shock at what I'm sure is a hallucination beside me.
"What?" I hear the scratchy voice again; at the same time, the mouth of the colorful horse moves. I make the connection that the horse has just talked, to me. My heart skips a beat, maybe two, or ten.
Reverting to animal instinct, my mind immediately begins deciding whether to fight this thing or to run away. I have a feeling it has the advantage of flight, but I sure as hell do not want to fight it. I push away from the creature, trying to force myself onto my feet. I stumble along the ground for a moment, running my hands along the ground and shoving down to right myself. My legs immediately take over, fueled by a heavy mixture of fear and confusion.
I sprint for what feels like hours, but is likely only minutes. The only other thought that registers in my mind that isn't related to getting away as quickly as I can is that nothing looks right. Even with my focus being directed solely forwards, a change in my surroundings is noticeable. Everything seems to lack detail, and has a defined outline; the grass I trample with each step is one color, and it seems to blend together after a short distance. Trees a good ways off look like mere splotches of brown and green. Even the few clouds populating the bright afternoon sky lack opacity and seem defined. The more I begin to notice my surroundings, the less I focus on escaping. I eventually slow to a jog, and upon realizing I'm slowing down, feel a massive wave of fatigue hit me.
I trip and fall forward, my legs giving out beneath me. I seem to have made no progress in getting out of this seemingly endless field; the treeline on the horizon seems just as far away as before. As my knees skid on the ground, I try to keep my momentum, telling myself to keep going; I find I cannot, though. As much as I want to get away, get away from whatever I saw, get away from this unfamiliar, un-detailed place, I am exhausted. I rest on my hands and knees, my legs screaming and a sharp pain stabbing into my lungs. My heart pounds in my ears, but I swear I hear the familiar thump nearby. A few out-of-place gusts of wind wash over me, and I see some motion at the top of my vision, causing me to glance up.
"Nice try, but even Bighoof can't outrun the fastest Pegasus in Equestria!" The light blue, horse-like creature stands before me like a predator that has easily bested its prey, with what I believe to be a competitive smile on its face. I'm not sure whether no thoughts at all run through my mind, or so many denying everything I see and hear that none of them register.
I take a last glance at the colorful, grinning, un-detailed horse, then pass out.