Will Ye No Come Back Again?

by Judge Holden

A Filly Cries

"We have nothing to fear but fear itself."
-Franklin Delano Roosevelt

---

It took me a long while to regain my composure. Until then, I prided myself on my lack of crying. I used to say I hadn't shed a tear since I popped out of my Mother's womb. When I found out Donny had been killed, I only got angry. Angry enough to punch a hole in the wall next to the door, where the sheet rock was thinnest. Whenever I was supposed to be sad back home, I would just get angry instead.
As an old teacher once wrote, "When life bites Mr. Stone, he seems to bite back."
Here and now, however...

I don't know if it was the result of my new body, gender, or current situation, but I could not stop myself from crying. I'd curled into a ball and hid my eyes from the world with my arms. I think I cried myself to sleep for a few moments, though I do not recall having any sort of dream. When I awoke, the sky looked no different. Either it was a very short nap, or I slept for exactly 24 hours.

On the plus side, my sobbing had changed to a stray sniffle here and there. The negative side was, my body felt incredibly weak and so much as yawning could split my lips. There was still a good distance in front of me it seemed. My goal was to try and find a place I can stay, eat or get a drink at.
I refused to eat the grass like a common animal though. This was one battle I wanted to win.
The other battle I wanted to win was the one on learning how to actually walk. I was making progress, at least, but I looked drunk.
I hated this. Was this the afterlife? Was it some kind of bizarre hallucination? Was my brain shutting down?

The last thing I saw was the flash of the tank's barrel. If it really hit me, my brain would have probably just shut down instantly. You know, on account of being blown to bits.

What if I'm still alive? Part of my mind, and it was a small part, was trying to tell me that all I thought I'd experienced so far was just a bad dream; that I shouldn't have hidden myself from someone called Luna. She would have stopped the nightmares for me.

The rational part of me was too busy freaking out. That other part, however, kept trying to convince me that everything up to my death had been no more than a bad dream.

What if it was right?

I shook my head a bit. Whatever happened to me, I needed to keep a clear head.
--

By the time I saw a town on a horizon, I'd been walking most of the night. I was severely dehydrated, my stomach was growling so much I assumed it was swearing, and my mind was racing. On the other hand, I managed to calm myself enough that I wasn't crying. I think I ran out of liquid to make tears with anyway.
When I saw the town, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you God."

I practically trotted into town as though I'd been walking like this all my life. I saw no sign of anyone outside, though. It had to be early morning; the sun wasn't even tickling the horizon yet.

It was a good thing, I felt. If I ran into a human like this I was scared I'd be captured and sent to a lab or something. Stupid horn and weird colored coat.

The entire town's housing looked almost like the ones I saw in Britain before my deployment. The only real difference was, these buildings weren't bombed out.

The air was fresh here, and I saw no signs of smoke. Come to think of it, I didn't even see any airplanes. The cobble stone street was slightly worn and a cool breeze flowed through the town. I was amazed that I didn't freeze after I got out of the water earlier. As of now, I felt warm.

My eyes lit up when I saw a fountain towards the center of town, and again instinct took over- I ran to it. The first drop of water to hit my tongue felt as though it revitalized me. I could feel some life and strength return the more I drank, and by the time I was done, I had managed to fool my stomach into thinking it was full for a time. I remember once reading that someone who was starving or severely dehydrated should eat or drink slowly and a little at a time. I guess magic horse people are the exception to that rule, because I felt good.
Satisfied, I let out a sigh and lay down before the fountain. My long walk caught up with me again, and I shut my eyes.
--

Sleep was my escape from this new world I found myself in. When my eyes were shut and my consciousness was elsewhere, I could be at home again, if only for a time.

The problem was, most of my dreams saw me on the battlefield again, re-living my last moments. I felt it was my mind's way of trying to figure out what I could have done differently.

"Let me in."

The answer was obvious to me: How about not running from behind cover towards the tank that had your team pinned down? Granted, they probably would have flanked sooner or later, but we could have come up with something.
I never forgave myself for throwing my life away as I did. As far as I was concerned, I killed myself.
I kept re-living those final moments. Whenever I tried to turn away, the image seemed to follow.

"Let me in."
I squeezed my eyes shut. It helped for a moment. I was blistfully blind.
Not deaf.
There was another explosion and I shrieked. I only curled up into a tighter ball, and shook.

"Let me in, little one."

My eyes shot open. Before me stood another horse. It was larger than I was and purple, or just very dark blue. Its mane was so strange- ethereal even. It looked as though it was made of dark gitter. It had a horn like me, but also a fine pair of wings. Though I saw a frown on its face, I did not feel intimidated by it.

"You must learn," she said- her voice was that of a young adult, yet sounded mature and full of experience. Before I could respond, I felt my eyes shoot open to the real world. I was panting sharply, but the sun was up again.

The sleep had fled from my mind almost instantly, as if it feared the light. I felt myself shaking, but I also felt quite warm. My head was on something soft. I took a gander at myself.

I do not know how long I had been asleep, but someone must have found me. There was a pillow beneath my head and a soft blanket over my body.

"Huh?"

I got up from the ground with a stretch of my limbs. Absentmindedly I gave my tail a gentle swish. My throat was dry again, though I no longer felt the horrible pangs of hunger. I still felt weak though and knew I needed something to eat too, and soon.

So you can imagine my surprise at seeing a complete meal in a small take-out container. Next to it was a cup full of hot chocolate that was no longer very hot.
Who left a complete meal here for a small horse? I'm grateful, but... I can't exactly pick anything up.
Whoever it was decided to leave a simple note written on the top of the styrofoam container:

Somepony loves you.

"Umm...?"

I did not exactly trust the food left to me. First of all, opening the container with hooves is easier said than done. Second of all, whoever wrote the note needed to take a grammar class or nine. Third, random food from a complete stranger was never exactly appetizing to me.

My stomach, as if sensing my decision to ignore the food, felt as though it had kicked itself. I buckled over for a moment. It was worse hunger than I had ever felt before; even worse than my first days in boot camp. Strange, I'd until then no longer had gnawing hunger.
I stifled a swear, and looked around the town. I could feel my heart start racing again.

All around town were horses just like me, but mostly larger and different colors. I saw a few flying through the air, a few with horns on their heads like me, and others with no other outstanding physical characteristics. This town seemed to be inhabited by or infested by creatures like me.
What the actual fuck?

"Hey, kid."
My head shot up. I had to crane my neck to see the source of the voice.

I suppose I'd gotten used to seeing or hearing myself. Seeing a town filled with these strangely intelligent horses and mythological creatures? Seeing one close up and addressing me?
THUMP. So long, consciousness!
End of Chapter

Comments

[The Cyan Recluse]

Angry enough to punch a hole in the wall next to the door, where the sheet rock was thinnest.

This is an incredibly stupid quibble, but I feel obligated to comment:

Almost nobody used sheetrock in the early 1940s.

The interior walls were done with plaster and lathe. Lathe being small slats of wood nailed between the wall studs (or later, they sometimes used metal lattice.) Then they'd put at least three coats of plaster on top. The process took DAYS. Especially if it was hot and humid.

Sheetrock existed, but wasn't in common use. Actually, the second world war really brought Sheetrock into mainstream use. The army had to set up tons of barracks. And had to do it fast. You couldn't wait days for layer after layer of plaster to dry. Sheetrock to the rescue! And it was so much faster and more convenient that everyone started using it during the post war housing boom.

So now you know! And as GI Joe once told me, knowing is half the battle! (The other half is not getting shot by a German Panzer while stupidly charging it with a grenade...)

[scootalooftw]

"We have nothing to fear but fear itself."
-Franklin Delano Roosevelt

But what about spiders?

[unknowncape7377]

8008645 oh great this one has arachnophobia

[ChiefKitsune]

8008645
True those eight legged freaks!