//------------------------------// // Prologue: Into Darkness // Story: Second Chances // by Detsella Morningdew //------------------------------// Second Chances Prologue: Into Darkness "I have half a mind to run away, just to teach you a lesson," pouted eight-year-old John Beckenridge. His mother, the target of his ire, remained perfectly calm. Unfortunately, she knew this behavior all too well. It was quite understandable, seeing as she had just extended his punishment for another month. Fortunately, this was easy to defuse. Taking the analytical course of action always worked in these emotional situations. "Now Johnny, I understand you're mad, but think about it this way. Where would you go? What would you eat? In fact, if you feel you need to, go ahead and run away. I won't stop you. But mark my words, you'll be running back within a day without any money." This did not help John's mood, especially since the reason he didn't have any money is that she took away his allowance. In fact, he did know the answers to those questions, but instead of answering them, he just gave an ambiguous grunt and went up to his room. A year ago, maybe, his mother would have been right. But a lot had happened since then, and he liked to read. A lot. But maybe his parents shouldn't have let him read those books about wilderness survival. He was still going to run away, of course, but he was going to be smart about it. He lived in a fairly small town, and almost everybody knew him, or at least who he was. But nobody would think to look in the nature preserve. Even if they did, it was a big place. A perfect hiding place. And with what he knew, it was going to be pleasant as well. Just like an extended camping trip. Of course, it wasn't going to be forever. Just about a week or two. Just enough to make his parents appreciate him again, but not long enough to get too uncomfortable. And his mother practically gave him permission. No, wait. She did give him permission. He looked over to his backpack, which was on his bed. He had already planned everything out, of course. Ever since he got grounded the first time, he was already thinking and planning his escape. Everything was already packed and set to go. Maybe he should check everything again, though, just in case. John unzipped his backpack and took out items one at a time. Compass. Check. Two full sets of clothes. Check. That way, if he fell in a river or something, he had something as backup. One waterproof box of matches. The big kind that held five hundred. Although it was now only about two-fifty. Check. One Swiss Army Knife. Check. One small gardening trowel. Check. About sixty feet of twine. Perhaps a bit excessive, but it was better to be prepared. Anyway, it was the only roll they had, at it would take too much effort to unravel it. Check. One large bag of trail mix, so he had some food until he found some more. Check. One flashlight with two full battery replacements. Check. One sleeping bag. It was essential, but way too heavy for his liking. Check. No tent. Tents were for people who didn't know how to make survival shelters. Plus, they were too heavy for anything but camping with a car. Shoving the items back into his bag, he looked around the room for potentially the last time for two weeks. Okay, it wasn't that bad, but still, it was a big change. Slinging the backpack onto his back, he double-checked the D-clips connecting the sleeping bag to his pack, then pushed his bedroom window open and climbed out. There was about a five-foot drop, not too bad normally, but he miscalculated the weight of his bag, earning him a mouthful of grass. How can grass be so hard? Rising unsteadily to his feet, he dusted himself off and walked resolutely down the road leading to Everfree Nature Preserve. It was a fairly short walk, and soon he was at the preserve's border fence. For obvious reasons, it was far from the main gate. No need to have any witnesses to his departure. With a heave, he managed to toss his backpack over the fence, and was relieved to see that no part of it got caught by the barbed wire at the top. Climbing the fence himself was a lot easier, using a balled up shirt to protect his hands from the wire. He just had to make sure that none of his clothing got snagged. He landed on the other side in a crouch, then picked up his bag again and turned to face the depths of the forest. With a sigh of resignation, he headed forth into the unknown. ------------------------- As John traveled, he checked his compass regularly to stay on the same heading. He did want to came back, after all. He turned the dial on his compass to mark the desired course. Sure, maybe he didn't need to be so precise. If he walked long enough, he'd meet the edge eventually. But the preserve was miles across, and a degree off could mean a lot of distance. He did not want to end up in an unknown part of the city, or worse, end up at the main gate where everyone could see him. It was best to be safe. His first goal was to find the three basic necessities - food, water, and shelter - as fast as possible. At least, that's what those books all said. Shelter was easy. Building one was fun, and more importantly, could be made of about anything. He had food for now. Water was the highest priority. He had neglected to pack it, mostly because he found out after packing just how much it weighed. Water was an easy thing to find, right? Animals had to drink somehow. Anyway, a stream or lake would have the food he needed once his trail mix was gone. That's what the twine was for anyway - making a fishing pole. Now with a mission, John renewed his speed. It couldn't be that hard, could it? ------------------------- An hour later, he was less sure. his muscles burned from walking, and his shoulders ached from the weight of his backpack that just seemed to get heavier and heavier. Worst of all, he had forgotten that exercise makes you thirsty. After walking for an hour, he was sweating profusely. he was quite parched. of course, it was well past dinner time, and hungry, but all he had was trail mix, which would do no good at all. Even he knew that it would only make him thirstier. Why, oh why was I so stupid not to bring any water? I planned out everything. Why didn't I see that this was a terrible idea? He looked ahead of himself at the forest, which looked identical to when he first began walking. How far have I walked, anyway? I must be getting to the other side already. It feels like I've been walking for miles, anyway. Maybe - maybe I can just go into the town just a little, just to get the water I need. I'm sure it'll be fine. Doesn't this forest have any water sources? John groaned as he came to the bottom of a steep hill. Just what I need. More leg pain. at least it's something different than just trees. Wait, if there's a hill, that might mean the rainwater will collect into a river or lake! He trudged up the hill with renewed vigor, wincing at the pain in his legs. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached the crest of the hill. Stopping momentarily, he appreciated his vantage point. He could see for miles. Not a tree was on the entire hill. Wait, miles? How big is this nature preserve? And is that...a castle? What's that doing here? Indeed it was a castle. At least, what was left of one. It looked quite old. Beyond that, however, was a gorge. Which could only mean... "A river!" Ignoring the pain in his legs, John ran down the hill, around the castle, and over to the river. What he failed to realize was the gorge that it occupied was quite deep. So close, and yet so far... I have a lot of twine. If only I had a bucket or something to bring the water back up. John looked thoughtfully at the mostly intact castle ruin behind him. "Hmm... maybe..." ------------------------- John grinned as he found just what he was looking for. Opening the small closet, he picked up a small wooden bucket. Perfect for what he needed. "Hah! Even hundreds of years ago, they still needed janitors." The reality of his statement gave him pause. That couldn't be right. America doesn't have any hundred-year-old castles. It barely became a country a few hundred years ago. America doesn't have any castles, for that matter. Except maybe in Disneyland. But the urgency of his parched throat caused him to abandon that train of thought. Who cared, anyway? It was useful for getting wooden buckets from. He didn't even have to make a shelter, anyway. He wasn't on to complain. John ran back to the edge of the gorge, and unzipped his backpack, bringing out the twine. So glad I brought this. He tied the end of the long roll of twine to the rusty wooden handle of the bucket. I only hope this is still watertight. Sitting on the edge, he slowly lowered the bucket down towards the river. About three-quarters of the way down, he ran into a bit of a problem. There was a bit of a ledge just below him that thoroughly blocked him from lowering the bucket any further. Looking to either side of himself, he noticed that it extended quite a bit on either side of him as well. If I can only swing the bucket outwards a bit... With an ominous crumbling noise, the soil beneath him began to give way, falling down into the chasm. Panicking, he scrabbled for what remained of the ledge he was sitting on, but he was facing forward. It was impossible to both turn around and get a good grip. So John fell. It wasn't even into the water. It was on that stupid ledge about fifty feet down. Huh. Is it... glowing? Weird. John died instantly on impact. Miles away, Twilight Sparkle woke up with a start.