Pyrophobia

by VilkaTheWolf

Chapter One: One Year Later

I remembered going to bed extremely intoxicated, though I had no hangover when I woke. I looked down at my hands only to find they weren't exactly hands. They were some type of claws. Red scales covered them and they ran up the length of my arm. I appeared to be a reptile. I hated reptiles. Was I still drunk? Was this some sort of very weird, alcohol induced, lucid dream?

I looked up from my hands—ugh—claws to my full body mirror I had hanging on my cupboard door. No, I wasn't a reptile; it was much, much worse. I was a dragon. I had red scales, and black horns protruding from either side of my head. I was only starting to freak out when I noticed my wings. They had a green membrane, like bat wings but much larger. I was doing everything I could to stop myself from hyperventilating. Dragons breathe fire; I'm terrified of fire. I burnt my hand when I was younger and the scarring had never healed.

I shakily got out of bed. I felt slightly shorter and slimmer, I estimated my new height to be around five foot six. Man this was one weird dream. I took this time to also examine my forearm where my burn was; it was gone. I touched my scales feeling their texture. It felt unnatural, far too real to be a dream. I clumsily made my way to my set of drawers and found my pocketknife that I kept hidden. The smart thing to do would have been to just get a pin and prick myself. I was not smart. I plunged the knife right into my hand, scales, tendons, and muscle. I think I was too in shock to scream or cry. A knife was sticking out of my hand. I needed help.

I had my mobile in my hand and turned it on, my claws scratching over the surface as I desperately tried to unlock it (turns out claws aren’t good for a touch screen). I rushed out of room as best as I could, knocking over pretty much everything in my way. I reached the kitchen where my home phone was, dialled '000' and waited.

There was a click.
"Hello? Is anyone there I need—" I began to say before I noticed that the line had gone dead. And it didn't go to message bank. Triple zero was dead, whatever happened was serious? My voice sounded higher than usual. What's with that? I pushed it to the back of my mind for another time. I tried calling another three times and always got the same result. Defeated I made my way back to my room. Something seriously messed up was going on.

I managed to bandage myself up with the emergency kit I kept under the kitchen sink. I poured vinegar on my hand and then quickly put the bandages on. The vinegar stung, and then the pain hit me and tears filled my eyes as my body realised it had been stabbed.

After trying the lights a few times I realised the power was completely dead. I wondered how the house phone could have survived that long. The answer escaped me, but I figured it wouldn’t be working anymore.

As I slowly got adjusted to walking with my tail, I decided to go outside to my backyard. I didn’t want to go out the front in case someone saw me. As I looked around I saw something that made my heart stop, and my stomach twirl. A dog’s carcass, exposed ribs and everything.

It was Happy, my best mate. What was left of him. I looked around the backyard to find that everything was very overgrown; it felt like I woke up after a one-year-long nap. I spent the next couple of hours frantically going from door to door in my neighbourhood trying to find someone, anyone, dogs included. Dogs were actually a higher priority than people as I’d never particularly liked people in general. I found neither. Every house was the same, just as overgrown and empty as my own.

The feelings of dread, hopelessness, and crippling depression came to me all at once. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I smashed my head against the nearest house. I didn't realise my true strength until the wall caved in around me. I then let my frustration out and completely destroyed my neighbour’s house in a fit of rage. I don’t know what came over me, but it felt good.

Afterwards, I came back to my house: my humble abode. I guessed I could still live there, but I wasn’t sure what I would do for food. Everything I had was a year old and mouldy or stale. I still had vodka, bottles of it. I couldn’t sustain myself off liquids; I needed solid food, like meat for my protein. I briefly considered eating any dogs I came across, but I wasn’t sure if there were any dogs around, nor was I sure I could deal with such an act after witnessing the carcass of my former pet. I toyed with the thought of not being able to find anyone else, but that sent me into a depressive slump. To try and get myself out of my pessimistic thinking mode I did the first thing that came to mind.

I drank.

Normally I was a lightweight, but now that I’d…changed (don’t think about it, don’t think about it…), my tolerance had gone up exceedingly. I finished an entire bottle only felt buzzed. I considered drinking more to get myself super-smashed, but common sense kicked in and I stopped.

At that point I realised embarrassingly that I was still naked. I don’t know if real winged reptiles need to wear clothes, but I certainly did. I walked back to my room and then the alcohol hit me. I stumbled to my cupboard and sorted through my clothes: pants wouldn’t fit at all and neither would shorts or t-shirts. It turned out I could, however, wear hoodies and jackets.

I got out my favourite black hoodie and slipped it on. It fit, but my wings made this super uncomfortable so I found some belts and strapped my wings down to make my hoodie fit. The belts would probably damage my wings, but I was beyond caring.

I needed to make a game plan.
Step one: find other people, or survivors of whatever happened. I wondered if anyone else was, um, like me.
Step two: find food. Actually food should have been number one, but I could rearrange my priorities later.
Step three: Figure out how to survive in my new body, and figure out what the heck was going on.

Now, with my game plan down and ready, I needed to figure out how I was going to get around. I had my Holden Ute, which could easily hold everything I needed. However, I needed to make sure that it still worked. I wasn’t sure how long it had been sitting.

First things first, I needed to see if the damn thing would start. It wouldn’t. Leaving a vehicle sitting for a year damages things. The oil needed to be filled for a start, it was bone dry and the fuel had to be replaced. Hopefully if I just filled the oil I could make it to at least a petrol station to change the fuel. If the petrol station fuel is any good either. I really didn’t think anything through...At least my battery was okay for now, I’d had it permanently hooked up to a charger. Hopefully it’d last me a while longer. My tyres were low in air pressure so I’d also have to find somewhere to fix that.

I searched some of my neighbour’s houses for oil. I felt bad ransacking everyone’s houses, but it wasn’t like they were around to complain. I found some eventually a few houses down which meant more walking. I hate walking. That’s why I’m trying to get this piece of shit working. So I can drive everywhere, obviously. I also found some some canned food and beef jerky in the houses too.

With the oil replaced I tried to start her up, and to my amazement she did! I cut the engine to save fuel, hoping she would start again. Back inside I gathered all the useful things I could find that I would need with me: a duffel bag filled with booze, and a backpack just full of hoodies and jackets. Took my pocketknife with me too, cleaned so it no longer had my blood smeared all over it. My phone didn’t seem useful since I couldn’t use it effectively, so I left it behind. I did, however, take my wallet with my license in it as I wanted a reminder of what I used to look like.

I was still sceptical whether this was a dream or not, but I was not taking any chances. Once everything was packed and sorted I put it all in the cab of my Ute. The tray I left empty in case I came across some larger stuff that would need the space. It was pretty uncomfortable to sit in the driver’s seat with my wings bound behind my back, and my tail wouldn’t fit anywhere. I apologised profusely for what I was about to do to my baby. I spent the next hour or so carving a hole in the seat for my tail to sit comfortably in. It still felt strange, I could deal with the discomfort in my wings. I would have to find new fuel soon, the old fuel would likely damage my engine after a while.

Everything else from there actually went surprisingly well. I managed to reverse and get to the driveway. I briefly considered getting myself sober before heading out, I was way over the legal limit to drive regardless if there was no one else on the road.

“Screw it.” I said, my unusually high-pitched voice throwing me off for a moment. There was no one else on the road as far as I could tell. At least I won’t get caught drunk driving, I chuckled to myself.

Author's Note:

Hi guys, this is my addition to the Ponies After People universe. How do you like it so far? If you have questions about some of the Australian words used just ask.

Also huge thank you to abphinsom for editing this chapter.

One Year Later is a 2001 album by The Carrier.

Comments

[Gotland]

Its a good Idea for a story but for the character you pretty much just recolored Ember. I still like the story so I will continue reading, Its been along time since anyone made PAP fic

[Lord Of Dorkness]

8214995

Have to admit I'm actually liking the character's design, despite myself... Really seem to fit the stories flavor off: 'What sort of stupid lizard thing did I just wake up as?'

But yeah, given how diverse body-shapes are for dragons, it does seem like something of a missed opportunity not to go the whole mile on.

Still, it's hardly a deal breaker, at least for me. I'm rather enjoying just how many 'not a role model' buttons the girl's pushing. You seldom see characters this deeply but mundanely flawed.

[bluemoon1996]

Hmmm, a little bit fast paced for my tastes but you get a thumbs up at least

[abphinsom]

I felt bad to ransacking everyone’s houses

I think you're missing a be there, or have too many words. Try: I felt bad ransacking everyone's houses