Journal of a War Pony

by CrackedInkWell

June 30 - July 2, 1916

YouTube Reading #1

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June 30, 1916 – Where do I begin with this? This day has been so bizarre that I think it's a challenge to put what happened into words. I don't blame you if you don't believe me, it's hard for me to believe it myself!

I'll start with this morning. The very first thing that I noticed when I awoke was the sound. It wasn't the usual sounds like guns going off, or some bloke shouting, or even the planes that would fly overhead. Rather, what woke me was the lack of any of it. It was quiet. Being in the trenches as long as I have, the most terrifying sound isn't what you hear, but when everything goes quiet.

I opened my eyes to find myself not in the muddy trenches, but in the shade of a live tree! And I wasn't sleeping on mud either but on grass! Real, live, green grass! Something that I haven't seen in a very long time since the Western Front is nothing but a stretch of a dead, muddy, and torn earth that goes on for miles on end.

Anyway, I awoke next to a tree, lying on the grass, between a forest and a creek. Up to the sky, the sun showed with a few clouds that lazily drift by. And even now there's a breeze that blows here. And strangely, I'm completely alone it seems.

The very first thing I did was I took advantage of the clear, clean, cool water from the creek. It was when I looked at my reflection was when I got the shock of a lifetime. I didn't see me in the water. What I saw, was a white coat, brown mane, blue eyed pony. Wearing my army helmet, trench coat, and binoculars.

I looked to where I hoped my hands would be, only finding hooves to greet me. With this, my shocked voiced chanted over and over the word “WHAT!?!”

After I had my panic attack for a good solid two hours, I was able to calm myself down and consider the following facts. First, I'm not at the front anymore. Second, I think I'm a pony. Third, I have no weaponry on me what-so-ever. Forth, I think I'm a pony. Fifth, a creek would probably lead me to civilization, for where's there's water, there are people. Sixth, I think I'm a pony. Seventh, I could really be alone, but I have to stick to the woods in case of an enemy plane might spot me. Eight, and most importantly of all, I think I'm a pony.

Now, the reason why I write “I think I'm a pony” is that I may look like a pony, but I highly doubt that I am one. For three reasons: First, I can talk. Second, at the bottom of each hoof, I noticed that there seems to be a tinny series of holes at the bottom. I think they might be tinny suction cups (otherwise, how else am I able to write this?) And third, I also noticed that my rump apparently has pockets. Like pouches on each side. It contained my pocket watch, my journal, a pencil and a picture of Lucy. Just like the things I left in my pants yesterday.

I spend the rest of the day following the creek. Eating on wild berries whenever I could find them.

The only other odd thing today was that just a few hours ago, I hear a “swoosh” sound above me, I looked up to see a fading rainbow. I'm still guessing as to what it was.

July 1, 1916 – No sign of civilization yet.

But for today, I had a lot of time to think things over. Things like Lucy, where I am, and why, in all that is holy, am I a bloody pony?

The entire day has been quiet. The only sound that I hear is nature tending to itself. I wish you were here Lucy, it's peaceful here. The weather seems perfect, the scenery looks something from a forgotten painting. I still don't know if I am in another part of France or somewhere in Germany. But other than the occasional animal that I would see, I never once ran into anyone today.

However, I'm not taking chances, earlier today I broken off a branch to where it has a sharp end that I can use as a primitive spear. At first, it was rather awkward to carry around due to the lack of hands, but I did find a way. I ended up strapping the spear onto my back from one of the straps on my coat. That way, I could just stand up and reached for the spear when trouble shows itself.

I spent most of the day to come up with some explanations as to my circumstances. So I came up with the following possibilities:

1: This is some sort of elaborate practical joke by one or all the Lieutenants. But that doesn't explain why am I an animal.

2: It's all a hallucination. Someone put something in my rationed brandy and now I'm seeing things. But how long do hallucinations last? It's been a few days now.

3: I have finally gone insane. This seems the most likely, but then again, where is everybody?

4: I'm dead. The mustard gas has gotten to me or has been killed in my sleep and this is the afterlife. It might as well be heaven, again, everything seems peaceful. But I highly doubt it. If this is heaven, how come I can still remember about the war and all therein? If this is heaven, I won't be able to remember any of it. There wouldn't be any need to remember in a place like this. Still, why am I a bloody pony? Then again, I think somewhat get it, I did grow up on a pony farm back in England after all.

5: I might not be on Earth at all. This could be a different planet or perhaps a different dimension. Yet I still doubt it. If that be the case, how would I have ended up here? But then again, why a pony of all creatures?

July 2, 1916 – I've found a farm today but I stayed at a distance. For I don't know if what I found is from Germany or something new altogether.

At around four o'clock, I spotted a red barn with a huge orchard of apple trees.

Using the binoculars, I searched for any signs of people that may be working there. But what I found though, only confused further.

Instead of human beings that I hoped for, I found two ponies working to kick the apples from the trees. One seemed to be a stallion, red coat and blond mane wearing a yoke around its neck. The other seems to be a mare with an orange coat and blond mane. This one has one of those hats that I've seen in photos of the American West.

I noticed something very odd about these two, both of them have an image on their rumps. The red one had what looks like a green apple cut in half. The other had three small red apples. I confess that it left me puzzled coming from a bloke who lived on a farm once. These marks can't be something they were born with, that's for sure. Nor do I think any branding was involved. These markings were colorful and clear as if they were painted on, except they look like these markings were apart of their coats somehow.

Suddenly, a small dog appeared next to me in the bush that I was hiding. The dog was barking at me, I tried to shewing it away when the mare called out, “Winona! Y'all come back here!” And she was coming towards me! So I got out of there as quickly as possible. The dog thankfully didn't follow me, but it seems that it has gotten the mare suspicious. For one thing, I dropped my pocket watch.

If there's anything I've learned, it's that I doubt that this is Germany. The mare in the hat has spoken English. (Grant it, not British English, but English nonetheless.) If this is something out of the Jerries lab project, one would think she would have spoken German.

But a question remains if these ponies are intelligent like any other person, can I trust them?

Comments

[Clicker]

I enjoyed but its a bit wall of texty.

[Clicker]

4630813 Not even relevant.

[Sgt GobSmacker]

I read this, thinking the Mane 6 would be reading his journal, cause I like reaction stories...
...
Sadly this is not the case...

[Lord tabz]

4638389
sad

[Lugnut6872]

Dude it took me so long to find this again. Thanks so much for not deleting it.

[CrackedInkWell]

11793346
I was never planning on it.