Day One

by Miniscule Literary

An Incomprehensible Arrival


His vision was engulfed by it. He felt as though he had been in a coma; his body was stiff and sore, protesting loudly as he stirred. Although his eyes were closed, the light emanating from his surroundings was already too bright. If he hadn't felt as bad as he did, he would've rolled over to escape the spiteful brilliance.

Even without opening his eyes, he could tell he did not recognize his surroundings. He felt the thick grass surrounding him. He heard the birds chirping constantly, the wind gliding over his head, and the distant, periodic sounds of moving water. The last he remembered, he was heading to bed in his apartment after an uneventful day of work and college classes. He couldn't recall anything after that. He hadn't been drinking the day before. He was sure of it; had he been drugged, somehow? Is that why he had ended up in the country, god knows how far from home?

Opening his eyes at last, the man struggled to shield himself from the light. As his vision slowly began to adjust, he was greeted by a flawless blue sky. But already things seemed different somehow. Attempting to get his bearings, the man sat up and looked around, his arm still raised defensively in front of him against the brightness. What he saw only compounded this uneasy feeling. Gone were the varying shades of the world he knew. Instead, everything seemed solid, basic in color and seemingly devoid of visible texture. Tentatively, the man reached for one of the long blades of grass surrounding him and ran the plant through his fingers. Much to his surprise, it felt like what he would expect grass to feel like, the texture intact.

Many things drifted through his mind. Where the hell was he, for one. His apartment was located in a suburban area where human habitation lingered for miles in all directions. He could not hear the constant drone of motor vehicles, nor could he hear the distant sounds of humanity at work or play. Where ever he was, it was far from home. Off the top of his head, he could not even remember a place close to his apartment so remote and so rural. It was actually quite peaceful, hearing the sounds of nature as clearly as he did. A novelty.

But still, where the hell was he, and how had he gotten there? From his bed to the middle of nowhere, it was quite the mystery, one that filled him with a sense of impending danger despite the serenity of his surroundings. The unusual, almost alien look to the field around him concerned him even more. It seemed both normal, and abnormal. It was a field of tall grass, with a small lake in the distance, alright. It felt the same, it sounded the same, it smelled the same. . .but it wasn't the same.

His muddled thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a new sound: talking. His confusion swiftly shifted into a mix of relief and concern. He wasn't in the middle of no where, after all. But at the same time, whoever was talking could be the one who brought him here, or had some involvement in his removal. Revealing himself to be awake and alert might just make things worse for him.

Mixed with the talking were the sounds of excited quacks and the splashing of water. Whoever was nearby stood at the lake, interacting somehow with the ducks there. Shifting to a sitting position, the man looked through weary eyes toward the lake, and what he saw there stopped him cold.

A small yellow equine creature was feeding the ducks at the edge of the lake. Small wings were folded at its side, and its mane looked like it belonged on a human rather than an animal. And it was pink.

And he knew exactly what - and who - it was.

But how do you respond to the impossible?

It is a simple question, that many think they know the answer to. How do you react when an innocent fantasy that ran through your mind a few times, becomes reality? Those thoughts you encounter while wasting time in the shower, or waiting out rush hour traffic. If I had a million dollars, what would I do with it? If I had super powers, what would they be and how would I act?

Most would say you would react with confusion, and then happiness. Or immediately break out into joyful tears. Or remain cool and collective to maintain your edgy exterior in the face of the unreal. In reality, it is something you simply cannot react to. The mixture of feelings are so wild that you end up in a complete stupor. Disbelieving and overjoyed. Confused and content. Afraid and excited.

That is how poor David felt that day in the field. He knew where he was now, but his mind could not comprehend the reality of the situation. He had thought of it a number of times, as people tend to. What they would do if they lived in the universe of their favorite movie, or book, or TV series. But now he was here, he could not hope to understand how or why.

It is in this vulnerable state that the human mind resorts to unlikely theories. As the impossible has just become possible, these things are not so easily dismissed anymore. Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Am I in the Matrix? Had I been in the Matrix until now? Is this what it feels like to overdose on LSD? Was my world the cartoon show, while this was the real world?

David was experiencing these and more, as he watched the little yellow pegasus trot back to her cottage with a now empty basket. Fluttershy was her name. Equestria was where she lived. The setting of the show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. And now, he was there too.

As a modern man of science and intellect, he could not fathom how this had happened. It was, by all means, completely impossible. But at the same time, he hadn't been completely unprepared for such a thing. Those moments of boredom and free thought would, it seemed, actually serve a purpose. How would a race of equines respond to a mostly hairless, massive gangly ape that could talk? The same way any sane human being would respond to a talking, flying horse: confusion, and possibly panic.

Revealing himself outright was out of the question. Walking into Ponyville, which was undoubtedly not far away, would be potentially suicide, no matter how much he may try to convince them of his good intentions. Only dressed in a plain dark blue t-shirt, some old jeans, and a pair of sneakers, he wasn't exactly prepared to spend the night in the wild, either. He would need to think this through carefully.

Reviewing his memories of the show quickly as he sank back into the tall grass, David determined that not many scenes featured Ponyville at night. Those that did, mostly depicted the town as deserted: everyone slept at night, apparently, with little to no exceptions. This would enable him to travel in and around the city without revealing himself. . .in theory. Considering his lack of preparation and supplies, this was the best he could think of, so it would have to do.

And so, he waited. Content with the knowledge that he remained well hidden in the tall grass, the man, born and raised in the city, enjoyed the calm comforts of nature in a strange and alien world.