“Oh boy, a new friend!”
The sound of the unfamiliar voice is far away at first, but then nearer and clearer with every word. Its cheery tones seem out of place given the circumstances, and it’s enough to wake him from his peaceful slumber. The strange new man opens his mismatched eyes to the technicolor world slowly, and he’s surprised at the abrupt change of scenery that meets him.
It’s night there on the hillside, and the wind gently caresses his angular cheek in a soft breeze. The air smells sweet and crisp, like a freshly cut apple or newly trimmed grass. Everything seems bolder and more vivd around him, popping out like some of the visuals in a few of his music videos. The earth under his back and head cradles him comfortably, as if his body belongs there and is welcome there. Somehow, it’s like he’s waking up for the first time.
How did he get here? Where is this place? He’s curious, but not alarmed. He’s seen enough in his lifetime that it would take a great shock to truly alarm him anymore.
The man takes a moment as he tries to sequence recent events in his mind. The last thing he remembers clearly is being in the hospital bed, surrounded by friends and family. He remembers the sound of the heart monitor beating out a slow and unsteady rhythm, and remembers the way it could have been a new song for him to write. If he’d only had a little more time that is, and he knew his time was drawing regrettably short. He remembers how he felt hot and cold, all at once, how the hospital blankets started to feel too heavy for his lungs to continue to expand. He remembers that he felt so tired all of a sudden, like everything around him and in him was compelling him to sleep like he had never slept before.
He remembers closing his eyes, just for a moment, thinking that after 18 months of fighting, he’s earned a little rest. After singing, dancing, reaching, changing, dreaming, and existing…he deserves a few moments of shuteye at least.
Then he remembers the stars. The ones he caught a brief final glimpse of, through the mostly curtained window. Just ever so briefly as his long lashes were slipping shut. The stars were shining so dimly, through a light and distant layer of fog, but they were still there. Just as they’d always been, since the day he came, perhaps fell, to earth. For a second he wanted to reach out for them, like he had so many times before with his voice, fingers, and mind. But he hadn't the strength then, and he'd let his eyes close with that far-off sky as his last sight. But now…he's not there anymore. He’s fallen to a different place, a new world.
Funny, he's always felt otherworldly, and now he supposes he actually is.
"My name's Pinkie, what's yours?" the voice says.
He's almost forgotten about the voice from before, and he doesn't answer right away. Instead, he turns to finds a very peculiar creature standing at his side, looking down at him. She's got a large head, eyes too big for her, and strange legs without digits at the end. It takes a moment for him to recognize that it's a small horse, a bright pink pony. It's so utterly surprising that he almost lets out a laugh, delighted by the unexpected presence in some part of his whimsical mind. The pink pony standing next to him is smiling widely, warmly, like nothing could at all be wrong. And as he takes a deep breath, he feels his muscles, young and renewed. He feels no pain, no weakness. Indeed it is like nothing at all is wrong.
He raises his head slowly to look over the odd little pink thing next to him in more detail. Her fluffy mane is bouncy, her grin is infectious, and she looks so very glad to greet him. She’s certainly strange, it’s true, but he was always a little strange himself. The look of her is simple and clear, downright welcoming, and he doesn’t feel afraid. He had felt a little afraid before he realizes, in the hospital room, as one does when he sets out to meet the unknown. But he's familiar with striking out to break boundaries and conquer new unfamiliar terrain, so it was only a small fear.
This new world he's opened his eyes to feels so unusual, but unusual like him in a way. It...suits him.
“Heya mister, you ok?” the pony says, cocking her head quizzically down at him. “Something wrong?”
Her voice sounds like bubblegum incarnate, and it fills him with an odd sense of joy for some reason. He likes it though, and it’s kind of her to ask. He realizes he has yet to give his name or say a word to her.
“Not at all,” he says quickly, and finds his voice too is light and full of life, like it hasn’t been in years.
Except in song, of course. Even in the last year, his voice could still ring out in emotion and meaning if he commanded it to.
Then he looks up, and catches a glimpse of the sky. And he sees the millions of flickering pinpoints of light in the black above him. And it’s nothing like it was in that final, slit-eyed glance through the window. They’re so bright here, so dazzling, like if he reached up one more time he might graze them with his fingertips. They sparkle so, they call to him, and he knows that they will be here for him in this world too. With a hesitant movement, he reaches up to them, just a little, and he sees his skin is taut, fresh, like new before him. In this new world, he is all but reborn.
He looks back to the pink pony with budding tears in the corners of his eyes. She tilts her head again, comically far to one side, and again it's all he can do to keep from laughing.
“Ya sure everything is ok?”
“Yes, I am, it’s just…”
He pauses and once more looks up into the night for a moment. He shuts his eyes. He smiles.
“The stars look very different today.”
-End-