//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Home, Sweet H- Wait, Who Are You? // Story: The Dimensional Traveler's Guide To Rainbows, And Other Troubles // by benxlabs //------------------------------// Chapter 1: Home, Sweet H- Wait, Who Are You? Something smelled funny. It smelled like fresh air and morning dew. Wait. That's normal. I sat up with a start, and immediately regretted my decision. I almost blacked out as blood flowed away from my head. I put my hands on the grass to steady myself. When my head cleared, I almost screamed. I. Put. My. Hands. On. The. Grass. I actually put my hands on the grass. HANDS. I. Had. Hands. I guess I had gotten my wish after all. The memory of the disastrous Solstice Ceremony was still burning bright in my mind. The request, the spell, the cataclysm. The millions of souls screaming out in unison. Even after all of that, when the dust had cleared, I had ended up back here. A sharp stab of worry erupted in my mind. What had happened to Celestia? She had risked everything to fulfill my wish. I wasn't sure what had happened to everyone else, and especially Celestia. She had been hit by the massive wave of destruction first, and shooting sunbeams out of your eyes was definitely not a good thing. Plus, she hadn't focused on protecting herself, instead, she used the moments before everything was engulfed nullifying the wave of energy and turning it into something else. Whether that had been enough to save everyone was questionable. My stomach lurched as I thought of the injustice of it all, so I stopped thinking about it. Why should I care anyways? I had nothing to do with it anymore. I casually let my eyes roam around, examining my new body. Although I wasn't wearing the clothes that had taken me to the underworld, I was still adorned in items from my wardrope: a pair of jeans, running shoes, a blank white t-shirt and an unzipped hoodie. I instinctively put my hand on my stomach, remembering the night that I had tried to end my existence. There was no mark, no scar, no reminder of what had happened. Just then, the world turned upsisde down. Falling to the ground, I gasped for breath as the world distorted around me. Faster and faster, the world spun, swallowing me up with it. The moon was high in the sky, glistening with its soft light. As a beam fell upon my face, my cold eyes snapped open. Their icey blue hue betrayed no emotion as I slipped out of bed. There was some purpose in my actions. I knew that much. Almost as if I had done it before, I felt the familiar chill of steel as my hand closed around the hilt of a knife. A wicked smile marred my calm features. As I lay in the bed once again, listening to the lull of night's requiem, I raised the knife, inset with a sanguine gem and wrapped in silver threads, high above my chest. There was no hesitation. There was only kill. The blade shattered the silence with a sickening squelch as it sank into flesh. Twice more, I raised my blade. Twice more, the blade tasted blood. Until darkness closed in, and I smiled, almost blissfully, certain of my escape. "Gah!" My eyes shot open. I wiped my forehead, glistening with cold sweat. As my breathing finally slowed down, I closed my eyes again, trying to clear my mind of that terrifying memory. What was I thinking back then? The corners of my mouth twitched as I grimaced, shaking my head. Just forget about it. After sitting in the grass for who knows how long, just contemplating the fact that I was a human again, I decided to try and figure out what I was going to do with my life. Getting to my feet with a grunt, I took a look around me, and I saw that I was most likely in somebody's backyard. Children's toys were carelessly strewn across the entire field, and the sheer number of playthings astounded me. I saw electric kiddy cars, rocking horses, plastic baseball bats, an assortment of rubber balls, and various kinds of playground equipment, all looking quite new, and all looking quite unused. I thought to myself: If they can afford to buy their kid this many toys, I'm sure they wouldn't mind letting me stay and rest for a while. I hope. And so, leaving the wasteland of a playground behind, I set out on an epic two-minute quest to find the front door. As I circled around the house, I left myself succumb to a wave of nostalgia. The color scheme was a little bit different than my home, but the general construction, and the location of all the windows and doors were strikingly similar to my own home. But it was not to be, for my house never knew the existence of the word "toy". There was a relatively high chance that they would simply close the door in my face. After all, I looked like the typical magazine vendor that shamelessly went door-to-door in order to peddle his or her wares. But I heard some vague voices, so I decided to test my luck. I reached to press the doorbell. My hand stopped as it neared the doorbell, falling back down to my side. The light smile I had decided to wear melted off my face. "There there, don't worry, Mommy will fix it for you!" I staggered backwards, eyes wide with disbelief. My head swam, and as the taste of bile filled my mouth, I almost threw up right there, on the front steps. After all, that was my Mom's voice. Who was this apparent child? Isn't that my Mom's voice? But that's not possible right? This can't possibly be my house. There's no way. There's just absolutely no way. Yeah. There's no way. I quelled the rising tide of emotion within me and pressed the doorbell. My jaw dropped slightly as the door opened. A woman with mousy brown hair, laced with grey streaks, was standing before me. There was no way I could lie to myself anymore. Beyond any doubt in my mind, standing there was my mother. She was cradling a small child in her hands, gently rocking the child back and forth. My fists clenched involuntarily as I took in the child's features. Raven black hair, blue eyes like the vast ocean. My mother was cradling him in her arms and kissing his forehead as she looked up. "How may I help y-" Watching her face as she looked at me was almost heartbreaking. Although her face had been graced with a warm smile as she crooned to her child, her smile evaporated as she raised her gaze to look at me. After a moment of silence, her eyes widened and she slammed the door in my face. "S-stay away!!" she screamed, almost hysterically. Time slowed down as I saw the tears on her cheeks. Standing there, I felt something like anger in my thoughts. She had never cared about me when I was alive, so why was she crying about me after I've died? Is she sad about the loss of her beloved money maker? Why should she? Obviously their new heir is much more praise-worthy than I ever was, considering all the ways they were clearly flattering him. So why was she crying? How dare she cry now, when it couldn't change anything? When it was...when it was already too late? I hadn't gone very far into my rather spiteful monologue when the door opened again. This time, it was my Father. He too, gave a start when he saw me, but he just smiled sadly. "I apologize for my wife's behavior earlier. I see now why she was so distraught. Your appearance certainly matches that of our late son, and you must have reminded her of the sadness that we felt after his death. But what was it that you needed?" He spoke calmly, but his voice quivered at times, and watching him, I felt anger and sadness clash once again. "I am sorry, I did not realize that I would open up your family's old wounds by coming. I simply needed some place to stay for the time being, as I lost my home recently." It was natural, really. I was used to talking to my father in a business-like manner. It was the way of our family, or was at least. Now, it seemed that my parents had degraded into emotional saps who were intent on completely spoiling their new child. I clenched my teeth as another wave of frustration rolled over me. My father said nothing for quite some time. He stood there, watching me, just looking at my face. The sad smile never left his features. I bit my tongue to stop another resurgence of hatred. It was getting hard to control. When I breathed, my shoulders heaved more than usual. I could feel my eyes moistening. It was a bittersweet feeling. In all honesty, what should I be feeling? Here I was, finally back from the grave and back at my home. Yet, my own family refused to believe that I had returned. I had returned home, but I had returned as a stranger, with a doppelganger in my place. He signalled for me to wait a moment as he went back inside the house. The sounds of screaming, accompanied by frustrated yelling, sent alternating pangs of pain and grief through my heart. I jumped as the door opened again. My father appeared in the doorway, seemingly a few years older suddenly. "I have carefully discussed the matter with my wife, as you may have heard. There is no problem with you staying with us, but the guest room is currently occupied. Would you be alright if you had to stay in a room which was- ah, previously occupied?" The slight pause in his speech told me exactly which room he meant. I almost laughed. As fate would have it, I would be staying in my own room again. "Thank you so much sir! I do not know how to thank you, you do not know how many times I have been turned down!" I didn't need to fake a smile. I was home at last. After being shown to my room, I was largely left to my own devices, save for an occasional inquiry as to whether I needed any assistance in settling down. It felt like I was returning to an old hometown, seeing my room after what had seemed like a lifetime had passed. I opened up my closet, and sure enough, all of my clothes were there, completely untouched. The only thing that had changed were the bed sheets. Bloody blankets were just too morbid to fit into any home decor plan. But in all seriousness, the room clearly had not been touched for at least a couple years. A fine layer of dust coated everything, from the blankets to my clothes. I was glad that I didn't have asthma, or I would have been indirectly murdered the moment that I walked into the room. I walked over to my nightstand and fondly dusted off my gold-plated alarm clock. It had kept me on time and away from the scoldings of my parents on many mornings. But it couldn't compare with being woken up by a real, living, breathing person with a personality. Even if that personality was a rather rude and obnoxious one. I let out a long, slow breath. The grass is always greener on the other side, I suppose. Gazing out my window, I took in the rather lonely view that had not changed at all, much like the rest of my room. I saw the familiar row of mansions belonging to my fellow aristocrats. I had been acquaintances with the daughter of the guy living in the old looking mansion across the street, when I was still around. She always seemed to have time for me, but I was too busy to answer her most of the time. Suddenly, my heart began to beat faster. The world distorted around me as I blindly reached out to try and steady myself. Everything turned white as the sensation of falling faded away. I happily strolled across the street, laughing as the warm sun caressed my face. Why shouldn't I be happy? I was on my way to see her again. It had been a busy month, and my father had arranged seeming endless piles of additional work for me to do and books to read, so that I could become a worthy successor of the family name. I really wished I could have visited her again sooner, but my schedule could not allow for it. I put my hand in my pocket, grinning as my fingers closed around a piece of paper. I decided to bring her a present to try and make up for all the lost time. I had drawn a picture of us together, running in a grassy field. We were smiling, together, without a worry in the world. I knocked on the door, giggling with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she looked at the picture. She would probably say something like "Wh-wh-wha-" as she blushed. Seeing no one come to the door, I was a bit stymied, but not defeated. I rang the doorbell. After a moment, a woman I presumed to be her mother came to the door. I was puzzled. Was she not at home? Her mother had the same blonde hair, but the mother's hair was streaked with white, rather than the dirty blonde that she had. I could tell that she was distraught. The light trembling of her shoulders, the downcast look in her eyes told me that she was under stress. "I apologize, but our family is currently going through some difficult times. Would it be alright if you came back at a later time?" She spoke with a confidence and strength of voice that surprised me. I couldn't sense the slighest quiver in her voice, despite the fact that she was clearly unhappy about something. My curiosity got the better of me, and even though it was a rather insensitive thing to do, I had to know. A hard lump had formed in my stomach. "My daughter..." she began calmly but quickly broke down as her calm mask shattered. "My daughter killed herself last night!" The world around me disintegrated into blackness. I was alone. Alone in the world. I had lost my only companion. My mind nearly shattered as somewhere, in the back of my mind, I heard the sinister truth. I killed her. If I had come a day earlier, if I had put more effort into my schoolwork. If I had been able to finish my work a bit earlier, if I could have seen her one last time, this wouldn't have happened. It was all my fault. I was a murderer. I had promised her I would be there for her, but I had left her to rot in that prison she was obligated to call her home. The floor below me collapsed as I fell into the blackness of the void. I took a heaving breath as I was jolted back into reality. The sun's warm light was still illuminating the room. I picked myself up from the ground, wiping the tears from my eyes. I slammed my fist down on my nightstand. These memories were really becoming a nuisance. I already told myself, just forget it! Whatever happened was in the past. I'm here now, so what does it matter if she died? But deep inside, I knew that I was just lying to myself. I couldn't forget. I couldn't forgive myself for what I had done. Forcing myself back to reality, I decided to take a tour of the house to take my mind off of her. There were four bedrooms on the second floor. The massive master bedroom belonged to the head honchos. My bedroom was all the way on the other side of the house, in an entirely separate wing. Although having an entire wing of a house to myself was maybe exciting at first, it soon became lonely and isolating. No one answered my crying at night when I was terrorized by nightmares. When I had to go to the bathroom at night, I had to endure a rather long trek down the hallway, illuminated only by moonlight coming in from the windows. As a child, I sometimes decided to wet my bed rather than brave the "hallway of doom". Of course, I soon learned that the consequences of making such a decision were far worse than walking down a scary hallway. The guest room was across the hall and slightly to the left of my room. I used to think there was a monster in there, since my parents always kept the door locked, but to my disappointment, I found only a simple bed and desk with a fancy chair. My father's earlier statement had caught my attention though. He had said that there was a guest staying at the house. My family very rarely had guests, unless it was some obscure family member I had never heard of but was expected to know. I wondered who it was this time. Was it my fifth cousin Johann Richybags? Was it my grand step-aunt twice removed Gertrude Fancypants? I chuckled as I remembered the childhood nicknames I had given them. Johann had given me wallet sewn out of hundred dollar bills, filled with dollar bills for my birthday. It had been put in a box wrapped in hundred dollar bills. At the time, I couldn't understand how you could have enough money that you could just waste it like that. And Auntie Gertrude? Every time she visited us, she was wearing ridiculously flamboyant and super baggy pants. They were completely and utterly eye burning, but she clearly thought they were fashionable. And my mother made me compliment her on her fashion every time. It never crossed my mind that I was supposed to be dead, that I was no longer obligated to greet my eccentric relatives, so I didn't hesitate in opening the door and sticking my head in the room to say hi, like I had been conditioned to do. To my surprise, I didn't see anyone in the room. The desk and chair had clearly never been sat in, so stepping into the room, I turned towards the bed. "Mysterious somebody"'s body was wrapped in blankets, so I couldn't really tell who they were. I wondered who it was. I didn't recall any late risers in my family. I heard a light knock on the door, and I saw my father outside the room. When I opened my mouth, I almost called him "father" before realizing that I wasn't their son anymore. I wasn't proud to be their son when I was alive, but now, I felt out of place as an outsider to my family. He gave me a brief explanation of the guest situation. "We found her outside in the forest while we were taking a walk. The strange thing is, she didn't have any clothes on when we found her. We think she may have been the victim of human trafficking or something similar. She's been asleep for a day now, so if she doesn't wake up by tomorrow, we're going to take her to a doctor." His eyes showed legitimate concern and worry. I felt a pang of envy, although I was disgusted with myself for feeling it. Who was this girl, that she could inspire my father to such compassion, when I, his son, could not? I walked over to the bed, and pulled back the blankets just a little. I was curious as to what kind of girl she was. When I peeled back the blankets to reveal the head, I nearly fell over. I almost lost consciousness, and my legs collapsed under me. I regained enough sense to catch myself with my arms, but I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. The girl's face seemed to radiate with confidence, even when she was sleeping. But her most defining feature was her hair. It was unkempt and flowing. It captured the essence the rainbow, metaphorically and literally. She wasn't the kind of person that was pretty because they used makeup, she had an aura of natural beauty. But that's not what got me. As I looked at her face, her confident smile, the way that she seemed to say "I don't care" without even opening her mouth, annoyed me in a way that only one Pegasus could. No way. Rainbow Dash?