//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Perseverance // by ZachTheBrony //------------------------------// Y'know, sometimes you just can't seem to start a conversation well. Sometimes you can't even process what you want to say, and it ends up coming out as some form of mumbo-jumbo that makes no sense whatsoever. And this, in fact, is- well, was, one of those moments. One of those moments when you just go 'Okay, what the fuck am I gonna do here?', but even though you think of something, it doesn't even come out of your mouth. All that comes out is, "How's it going?". Like that's the most intelligent way to start a conversation in the history of mankind. Now that you've been enlightened so amazingly, allow the story to commence. "You are bullshitting me." I snapped angrily at my friend Brady, who was staying overnight at my house. Brady had just finished telling me that last weekend, he crashed his four-wheeler, and came out unscathed. I of course, didn't believe him, but I bet I wasn't mentally prepared for what was about to happen next. "Nah, check this out," Brady replied, taking out his phone and playing a video. "Holy fucking shit! Brady, you alright bud!?" Jordan's voice sounded from the phone's speakers, Brady and his four-wheeler at the bottom of the gravel pit he crashed in, the four-wheeler he drove almost in pieces. One of the four tires were punctured by something- likely a stone, I'unno -the entirety of the small vehicle was scratched, its red paint almost silver by now. The engine on the vehicle was sputtering. Brady, on the video, came up the gravel pit with a look of both relief and disbelief on his face. "Yeah, yeah I'm... 'Fine'. Just crashed my four-wheeler." Brady said sarcastically, taking the phone away from Jordan. The video stopped. "I bullshit you not," Brady laughed. "-now, I'm just gonna go play RAGE." Brady then proceeded upstairs to my room, where the XBOX 360 was already up and running, with Brady's game still going on it. I set down my now-finished plate of steak and potatoes, and decided to go onto my computer upstairs. - - - - My Room - 11:41 PM. Several hours passed. Yeah, it was just like a normal night, but Brady was still playing RAGE. He had finally gotten into Subway Town, when he got stumped. "Where the fuck is the 'Blue Line Station'?" he asked, confused. "Just go to your garage above the Resistance Base, get your Cuprino, and follow the white dots once you leave Subway Town into the Wasteland." I directed him, my friend quickly picking up on what he had to do. "Thanks man." said Brady. "Not a problem," I replied. My phone began to vibrate on my desk, signifying that I had a text. I picked up the phone, and I looked. I sighed, before looking at the message. The message read; 'Hey babe, u wanna go catch a movie tomorrow?' And so I replied; 'Sure. I'll pick you up at around... Seven. Sound good?' Two minutes passed before my phone received another text message. That message read; 'K. Ill see u there, babe. Goodnight, i u.' I chuckled a little in the back of my mind, before responding; 'I you too baby. See you tomorrow.' The screen of my phone went black as my finger pressed the off button. Then, I found myself returning my vision to the monitor of my PC. "Time to catch up on MLP..." I uttered under my breath, opening YouTube, in hopes that I could find the episode I left off at. Once I found the episode in the search list, Brady managed to catch a glimpse of the thumbnails. He snickered. "Are you one of those... bro... what is it, uh, Brownies?" Brady asked me. Before I could correct him, he corrected himself, "Brony, that's the word, Brony. Are you a Brony?" "Mhm." I replied, before clicking on the fifteenth episode of season one - 'Feeling Pinkie Keen'. I hadn't made it through the entire three seasons yet, but I was determined to make it through both seasons. Brady only laughed at me, before his laughing stopped abruptly with a yelp. "What the fuck, dude?!" I snapped my back as I whipped around. "OH! Fu-... gggh..." I held my back. 'Son of a bitch...' "Fucking muties..." my friend sighed in relief, mashing the shoot button as multiple Mutants were swept away in a bloody carnage of flak, originating from Brady's combat shotgun. I only laughed, before I began watching 'Feeling Pinkie Keen', along with other episodes, until I got tired. About three hours passed before I finally fell asleep in my chair. - - - - My Room - Two Hours Later I snapped awake. Cold sweat ran down my back and chest as I stiffened-up from shock. Can't move, the words were in my mind, but in the depths of my mind; they weren't a priority, so my mind forced me to assume that I was paralyzed. Which, I was; I couldn't move a muscle. Then, my eyes traced their way over to the open doorway. There stood a shady figure, wielding a knife. My heart dropped. I was panicking, trying to yell out for help- my mouth moved, but no words came out. The figure approached me, and I tried, desperately to move. But to no avail. Then, like that, he disappeared. And primal instinct took over immediately- I stood up, panting- looking around my room. "BRADY! BRADYYY!!!" I yelled out in a bloodcurdling scream, before hearing a thump. Brady came like a bat outta hell from the opposite side of the hallway, in nothing but his boxers, fixing to knock someone's block off. "Dude, what the FUCK is going on!? It's three in the morning!" "THERE WAS SOMEONE IN THE FUCKING ROOM!" He looked around for a good three seconds, registering that there wasn't anybody in the room. "NO THERE ISN'T! I'M A LIGHT SLEEPER, I WOULD'A HEARD THEM! OUR DOORS ARE FUCKING OPEN!" I went silent for a good ten seconds. "Now go the hell back the bed, you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack..." "Ugh... fuckin'... eghgh..." I jumped in my bed, terrified, and forced my eyes shut. Within minutes, I was sucked back into my slumber. - - - - The Kitchen - 10:54 AM. Me and Brady slept in a bit, even though we didn't specify a time to wake up since it was now Saturday. Me and him entered the kitchen after getting dressed and tending to our personal hygiene. "So, what do you want to eat?" I asked Brady. "There's corn flakes, bread, milk, I can make eggs like a boss, which I will. You want one?" "Hell yeah." Brady responded tiredly. "How do you want 'em?" "Sunny-side up." Brady replied. "Sure thing." I cracked open two eggs, after buttering a pan up. I dumped the contents of the eggs into the frying pan. As soon as they made contact with the pan, I heard sizzling. I moved the eggs closer to one another, and put the lid to a pot on top of them, turning down the heat on the burner. It really helped make sunny-side eggs into what they are. All the while, I stuck four pieces of bread into the toaster and flicked the toaster on. "Should be done in a few minutes." I said, opening the fridge and taking out the margarine. I whistled a random, improvised tune for about a minute, while Brady yawned in the middle of it. To pass by time every little chance I got, I opened up one of the upper cupboards and took out two medium-sized plates. Pop. The toast was done. "Toast's done." I smiled triumphantly, quickly fetching the four pieces of toast from the toaster and cutting them into halves. I put the toast on a small plate, and then I tossed the butter onto the dining table, and Brady took off the lid as I grabbed two forks and a butter-knife from the silverware drawer, plopping the butter-knife into the butter. I decided to fry-up some ham. So I did, opening the fridge again and grabbing some thick-cut slices of ham. I plopped them onto a different frying pan, and the aromatic, mouth-watering smell of the ham filled the air within minutes. As soon as the bottom side was browned, I flipped the four pieces I placed on there onto their non-fried sides, and in one minute, they were done. I took that frying pan from the heat, and put two pieces of ham on each of our plates. I looked back to the eggs, which were looking done. "Eggs're done too." I told aloud, walking over to the stove and taking the frying pan off of the heat, placing it on the counter, next to the other, empty frying pan. I then took my spatula again, and put one egg onto each of our plates, and walked over and served it to us both. "Man I ain't had a good breakfast in a while, thanks man." Brady said, not hesitating to dig into the egg, followed by the ham and toast. Brady leaned back in his chair, likely indulging the texture and salty, velvety creaminess of the egg, the smoky, juicy ham slices, and the buttery, fluffy and airy toast. "Mm... not bad," He complemented. "Thanks. Kinda interested in being a cook anyway," I returned the compliment, before me and Brady both continued to eat our meals. "And, no problem, for the breakfast." "So, what was that all about last night? The fuck happened?" Brady asked curiously. "Looked into it right as I woke up, apparently I experienced uh, sleep paralysis." I replied honestly. Brady squinted at me. "Isn't that for like, kids?" "No, all ages can experience it apparently, it just diminishes- well, uh, usually, in teen years. It can come back. Pretty much, I woke up and I couldn't- I couldn't move, right? So my eyes look over to the door and the guy I was telling you about last night was in the doorway with a knife, and he came towards me and I couldn't move. Disappeared, though. That's one of the usual things that occur with sleep paralysis apparently, or an overwhelming sense of uh, terror. I used to have that all the time as a kid. Fuckin' scared the shit outta me." I sighed. Brady nodded- understanding what I meant. Silence came over the room for a couple of seconds. "Hey Zach, did your dad leave early or something?" Brady brought up the question as we put away our dishes. "Yeah, before you came over he said he had to go to the airport to pick 'ma up. She's been on a vacation for a couple months now." I replied. "Huh. Well, I gotta get going. Jordan's going wheeling with me, wanna come?" Brady asked hopefully. I scratched my chin in thought, before deciding it'd be pleasant. "Sure. When are you going?" "Right the hell now, remember? My house is in Aylesford, and we're in Yarmouth for Christ sake. I ain't walking." Brady laughed. I grinned knowingly, and laughed as well. "I'll go start up the car. Lock the fucking door when you come out, though." - - - - My Car - 11:15 AM. "Here in my car," "I feel safest of all," "I can lock all my doors," "It's the only way to live," "In cars!" "Here in my car," "I can only receive," "I can listen to you," "It keeps me stable for days," "In cars!" "Here in my car," "Where the image breaks down," "Will you visit me please?" "If I open my door," "In cars!" "Here in my car," "I know I've started to think," "About leaving tonight," "Although nothing seems right," "In cars!" Me and Brady laughed hysterically, after singing 'Gary Numan - Cars' together. "WOOHOO!!!" I was laughing my ass off as we rocketed down the one-'o-one highway. Brady was laughing so hard that he couldn't respond without it coming out in some-sort of incoherent babble. Me and Brady were pals for life when we met; through a high-school dance a few years back. Even though he was two years younger than me, we both were very great friends. We had been singing songs together for nearly a full hour of driving, but it passed by time like you wouldn't believe. By now, we were approaching the Aylesford runoff, where I drove for. - - - - Jordan's House - 12:53 PM. "Zach! Long time no see, buddy!" Jordan exclaimed as I got out of the car. Jordan was just another old-time pal of mine, who took off his helmet as he rolled up beside the car on his four wheeler. "I see 'ya came along with Brady?" "Well I couldn't walk here, I'd friggin' die or something, you dumbass!" Brady playfully punched Jordan in the shoulder. "Alright, Zach, the 'wheelin gear is in the shed. Brady, come with me, we're gonna go get the other two four-wheelers." Jordan commanded, and we both complied, heading in the directions we were told to go to. When I opened the shed, I almost instantly noticed the helmets, shin-guards and elbow-pads. There were two sets of them, both presumably for guests. I slipped mine on, and brought the other set out for Brady. Soon, I heard the approaching sound of the two four-wheelers that Jordan and Brady went to retrieve. Very shortly, the two of them returned. "Alright, pick a 'wheeler, Zach." Jordan told me as he and Brady hopped off of their wheelers. "I'll ride this one." I said, hopping on a blue 'wheeler. "Sweet, I wanted the yellow one." Brady followed, putting on his helmet and gear before hopping onto the yellow 'wheeler. Jordan hopped on his red 'wheeler, and we set off for the trails. - - - - Rough Beat Trails - 1:26 PM. The three of us roared down the 'rough beat trails', as Jordan called them. He had a good reason for calling them that, too; as we whizzed down the trail further, the ride became bumpier, and bumpier, and bumpier. "Try not to go so fast or you'll fly off like a motherfucker!" Jordan called back. Unfortunately, I didn't catch what he said. "Wha- AUGH!" I yelped, one of my tires hitting a large bump, sending the handlebar hard into my gut. I didn't let go, but I had the wind knocked out of me roughly. Gasping for breath, I attempted to regain control of my vehicle, but I smashed into another bump, and I lost control, being sent flying from the 'wheeler. "ZACH!" "SHIT!" "AH FUCK!" I waited for the ground to meet my body horridly, but I kept falling. I just kept falling. My eyes were pinned shut. I finally opened my eyes, and I screamed even more. I was fuckin' fallin' alright! There was a light above me, but I was falling at such a rate that I couldn't see it fully. The light disappeared, and I began to feel dizzy. Was I undergoing an NDE? Saw a light, must've almost died there. I struggled to remain conscious, but to no avail as my eyes slammed shut, my body fell limp, and my mind faded into unconsciousness.