<> Day One <>
It would have been easier if I didn't get up that Sunday morning. Never mind that, I would have been infinitely more happy if I had slept for the whole two weeks. Unfortunately for me, I'm a morning guy, and once it's five in the morning, I'm up. No exceptions. Besides, even if I did force myself to sleep in, my cat would wake me up anyway.
But that morning, on that eventful weekend day, I woke up like always; at five AM sharp or earlier. Why so early? I don't know. It probably started when I was about six or so, and I got into the habit of waking up when the kitchen light turned on. But I was thankful for it, as it let me have some free time before driving myself to school every weekday. The only downside was I had to go to bed at nine to get my solid eight hours in.
One of the first things I noticed when I woke up was that Tabby wasn't curled up next to me, like she usually is. I will never understand that cat… I thought to myself. I noted my digital clock on the bookshelf across the room, the numbers glowing green in the dark. Four-thirty… on Sunday, no less. Schist. I rolled over, drawing up the blankets to my nose, which, in hindsight, felt bigger than it should have. Meh… I can rest my head for a few more minutes.
"Mrrow."
I sighed, peeking my eyes open at the feline shape at the threshold to my basement room. "About time you showed, fatty," I grumbled at the cat, who was strangely keeping her distance. Whoa, what's up with my voice? I wondered as the words that came out of my mouth were garbled by rough, higher-pitched vocals. It was almost feminine-sounding, like a tomboyish sort of style. I must be coming down with something…
Deciding to put my Boy Scouts first aid skills to the test, I reached up and placed my hand on my forehead to see if I had a fever. At the time, I had no clue what I was doing. Why the heck would I check myself for a fever if the symptom was a jumbled throat? Lets just say that I didn't really stay in Scouts long enough for that particular merit badge.
Anyway, when I placed my hand on my head, something didn't feel right. I stimulated my nerves in that area, eliciting a response and a reading. Why the hell can't I feel my fingers?
Experimentally, I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to make out the silhouette in the glow of the dim nightlight in the entryway I used to navigate at night. My eyes widened at what I saw. Holy schist my hand! It's gone!
To say I panicked a little was an entire understatement. I'm usually not one to flip out, but when I do, I flip the hell out. In a full on reflex I had developed sometime over the years, I leapt to my other side, slamming the button on my reading light with the stump of my hand. As the brighter light flickered on, I was anticipating what I would see. A bloody end of an arm? Wrapped in bandages maybe? Or possibly a Frankenstein-type horror where the wound was sewn haphazardly?
The light stopped flickering. I stared at the appendage that used to encompass my arm, hand, and fingers. The entire length of the extension was covered in a bright blue fuzz, and was about two-thirds the length it was previously. Instead of a hand, the arm ended in a hard yet flexible nail-like substance that matched the color of the coat. Turning my new appendage palm-up, the cyan nail-stuff was seen in the shape of a…
A hoof?
Bringing my other arm into view revealed the same sight. Why… why do I have… hooves? Instantly, my brony writer's mind flashed with fan-fiction clichés. None of which comforted me.
Oh dear God… I'm a pony…
I tried to keep my cool, holding my breath and waiting for the adrenaline in my system to wind down. Once my heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm, whatever that meant for a pony, I exhaled. Okay, I told myself, get out of bed; assess the situation before anything.
Unceremoniously, I rolled to my left out of bed in my typical fashion, scaring the fur off my cat and sending her running, as well as landing belly-down on the carpeting. With exceptional reaction-time developed over years of practice, I initiate my muscle memory and push myself upright with my forelegs…
…only to stumble humbly backwards, my flailing left hoof sending the empty glass I keep on my bedpost for a drink of water before bed flying, the cup hitting the wall with loud 'bang'.
First things first, I guess… Tentatively, I rolled back over onto my stomach and carefully positioned my front and back hooves. The way I had it figured, I could mimic my cat when she stretches and raise my hindquarters first, therefore gaining the right leverage to bring myself up to an upright stance.
Picturing Tabby in her yoga-like pose, I reached out my cyan forelegs, slowly straightening my hind-legs. Well this is dignifying… I grumbled to myself as the mental image of a cyan pony with it's plot in the air entered my head. Leaning forward with my hind-legs, I levered my front up, using my forelegs as a fulcrum.
It was a really wide stance, but I couldn't help but grin at my achievement. "Aw yeah!" I said in exuberance. Why does my voice sound so weird? …and oddly familiar? Getting a hold of my excitement, I mentally kicked myself for celebrating such a mediocre task as standing up.
I calmed my nerves with a bit of deep breathing, feeling my new lungs as they expanded in my chest, a lot larger than I was used to proportionately. Once my mind was at ease, it resumed its normal functions, and I immediately became conscious of the burning curiosity regarding my own appearance. In the light of my bedside reading light, I turned to face the full-body mirror attached to my wardrobe door.
My jaw broke the sound barrier as it fell open at the sight.
The top of my head came barely above the average human's knees, making my full height about two-and-a-half feet. A cyan coat covered my entire body, sleek and soft-looking. At my sides, two wings fluttered anxiously, revealing that I was of the pegasus variety.
None of this, however, was the source of my astonishment.
My mane was a myriad of color, the bangs being red, orange, and yellow and the ends green, blue, and purple. The tail, on the other hand, was a solid rainbow all throughout. Befuddled magenta eyes stared back at me. Yet, most significant of all, on my flank was a white cloud with a multicolored lightning bolt jutting from it.
I… I'm… Rainbow Dash…?!
All things that could be described as coherent thought left my mind, leaving only a broken shell. Had I been of weaker constitution, I would have fainted just then. So, being strong-willed as I was, I did the next-best thing.
Falling over in a heap, I placed my hooves over my ears and curled into ball, the shards of my sanity fracturing into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually slipping through the cracks and into the void.