Into Dream Valley

by Brybrysciguy

Chapter 4: Frustrating

While he was sleeping, Boston felt a tap on his shoulder.

Immediately he flew up. His heart felt like it would blow out of his chest.

He tried to scream, but a hoof to the mouth and a shush shut him up.

The little bit of moonlight seeping through his window created a familiar silhouette. The hair was what gave it away. It was Cheeto!

He tried to ask her what she was doing here, but before he could she slammed him in the chest with something heavy. The sudden impact blew all the air out of his lungs and stunned him.

Having done her best to confuse and disorient Boston (intentionally or not), Cheeto stealthed her way out of the room. By the time she had quietly shut the door, Boston was still stuck paralyzed on the bed.

After a few seconds, he finally pulled up his hands to feel the object she had callously thrown onto him. His fingers went around its edges and felt all the grooves until a small piece of paper fell off. It was a book apparently.

This reminded him too much of something his little sister would do as a prank.

His head ached, so he decided to just go back to sleep.

---

Light beams streamed into Boston’s room and into his eyes.

Ugh, it’s not even seven yet, he thought.

What? Boston had an excellent internal clock; it seemed there was no time difference between Oklahoma and here.

When he shifted to get the light out of his eyes, an object fell off of his chest. The surprise jolted him awake.

So suddenly Boston found himself again in a position with adrenaline coursing through him, and a mysterious book on his bed.

What he saw next was an even bigger surprise.

The book had English on its cover. Right there in fancy cursive were the words ‘Megan’s Diary’. The mystery of it actually annoyed him, and slowly remembering that Cheeto had brought it to him last night didn’t help either.

It was then that he heard a knock on the door followed by a quick entry. Unexplainably, he rushed to put the book under the bed before whoever it was could see it. It was the same rose mare who had toured him through the mansion yesterday. Knowing now he was not staying by choice, her sight made him give a slight scowl. She just ignored it.

Instead of going up or down the staircase like before, they simply walked across the bridge spanning the large interior space. They entered a new room directly opposite of his own, and the first thing Boston saw was books. It was like a mini-library with its raggedy bookshelves sticking out from the walls.

At the far end of the room was a small theater. It reminded Boston of the one his rich relative had in their basement. This theater had no screen (obviously), it did however have wooden chairs lined up at its front, and a stage with plenty of room for walking on.

Arriving at the stage area he found Cheeto busy looking at a piece of paper she was holding in her hooves… somehow.

The rose mare loudly cleared her throat, causing Cheeto to yelp.

When she turned to see the noise, the first thing Boston saw were the bags under her eyes and all the loose strands of hair poking out. Despite that though, the inner determination still pierced through her.

Boston was happy to see her; the rose mare was not. Upon seeing Cheeto her face twisted into a weird mixture of concern and anger. She actually spit on her hoof and tried to run it along Cheeto’s hair. Cheeto just flicked away her hoof with an annoyed glare.

They started arguing. As they did, Boston paid close attention to what they were saying. The language had lots of whinnies, neighs, and snorts, but Boston was also starting to pick out more human-ish sounds. Those sounds (some were similar to H’s or N’s) were often used between the more horse like noises. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to learn it, but starting from basically nothing made things challenging.

Whatever it was they were arguing about, the older one, who Boston figured might be Cheeto’s mom, finally relented. She left with an exasperated sigh.

Afterwards, Cheeto made her way onto the stage unphased. On it she paced back and forth like a commanding officer in front of his troops. She was blabbering on about something he couldn’t understand, but all he could focus on was the smug grin she had.

The weird bravado of it all made him laugh.

She just ignored him and kept at it.

She then said a word straight in his direction. Boston just stared right at her causing repeat herself, this time more agitated.

Boston could sometimes be a bit slow, but he finally realized what she wanted.

He tried his best to make the beginning sound, but whenever he tried to make it the pegasus stopped him, said a few things, and then prompted him to do it again. He was starting to get annoyed with her, how was he supposed to understand her instructions? Did she expect him to understand the language she had just started teaching him? He kept trying over and over again, until Cheeto just gave a scowl and continued talking like nothing had happened.

Boston was confused by what he saw next, she brought out a blackboard. From what he knew blackboards weren’t invented until 19^th century, and here she had one with wheels and a holder for chalk. He could understand though, it was a pretty simple invention after all as it was just a board made from slate. What confounded him more was about how she was able to hold the tiny piece of chalk in her hooves. Did their hooves have magnets in them that attracted every substance, or were they some kind of weird Velcro?

So many questions…

Of course, to ask them he would have to learn the language.

He then truly realized the challenge he was taking on. Not only would he have to learn an entirely new language, but he would have to learn it from people who couldn’t even speak English to translate for him. Would he even be able to make the sounds necessary? In fact, his monkey brain might not even have the right neural wiring to understand horse grammar and sentence structure.

He did have a few advantages though, if he succeeded, he would be the very first human in history to speak an alien language. If he ever found his way home he would gain major bragging rights and that was one motivation, but also just the idea of being able to understand and see things from another point of view fascinated him.

There was also the hope that he would be able to physically understand them at some point. He already knew both their species used the same facial expressions and gestures to communicate, maybe it wasn’t too much of a stretch to say their language could be compatible with the human mind?

He was brought back to reality with a cough, a very forceful one.

When he looked up Cheeto was glaring at him. Now that he thought about it, Boston realized that she had been talking to him this entire time and he hadn’t been listening. She had given up trying repetition and had just starting lecturing him in her own language. They both had a lot to learn.

She made the same phrase again, her voice sounding even more impatient this time. He tried saying it again. He didn’t know if he said it right, and honestly, he was starting not to care.

She did not seem happy with his pronunciation.

She said it again. He repeated it again.

Upon hearing it, Cheeto’s face turned a deep crimson, she jumped off stage, and stomped out of the room. From the sound of it he thought she was trying to break the floor. After a few seconds, he heard the door slam behind him.

Boston just sighed. This was going to be difficult.

---

He just waited in his seat for quite a while after the little incident. He wasn’t sure what it was that he should do now, so he just sat there.

He had hard time saying he didn’t sympathize with Cheeto. As a little kid he had always blown up whenever things didn’t go his way. He just exploded whenever he felt an obvious injustice had been perpetrated against him, but those days had long since passed.

He almost kind of felt bad for not taking it as seriously as he should have, but what else was he supposed to do with her methods? She was going to have to inevitably reevaluate her teaching at some point. Didn’t make Boston feel any better about it though.

After impatiently sitting for a while, the Rose mare came and brought him back across the bridge to his room.

By now it was only just before noon and he still had all day ahead of him, presumably with nothing scheduled. Instead of bringing him anywhere to eat that lunch, the ponies of the mansion had left bread and some of the milk on his woody nightstand. After finishing it, he realized that he was probably going to be within the grasp of boredom for the rest of the day.

He thought about reading Fahrenheit 451 again, but didn’t feel like reading the same book twice now that he didn’t have to. For some time, he contented himself thinking about what stories or mythologies might lie in those books on the shelf, but then he finally realized how stupid he was. There was a readable book right under him.

For the second time that day he read the words “Megan’s Diary”. They were drawled in black Ink across a cover that looked like it had spent an hour in his backpack (Stuffing 50 things in one place doesn't do wonders for durability). In fact, some of the pages were torn at the seam and seemed about to fall out. When he opened it, it audibly cracked a little bit, making him worry that it would fall apart if breathed on too hard.

As with any new book, when Boston stared at its cover it felt like he was starting a new project, just like you would start creating a momentous painting, except progress was more easily shown by the number at the top of the page.

He wanted to think about the implications that finding a book in English here had, but he was tired of waiting to read it. When he opened to the first page, he saw writing in black ink. It said

“Dear diary, Day 200-ish

The experiment went horribly, terribly, absolutely wrong.”

Boston didn’t even see the next letter before he slammed the book shut. It’s not that he was scared of what he was about to read, but he had to take a breather to think about what that sentence really meant. He didn’t even know who Megan was, but already his brain was coming up with sci-fi explanations as to its connections to this new land he found himself in. The thing that scared him the most was Megan’s ‘date’.

He also had a hard time trying to figure out why Cheeto would’ve given him this book. How did she know this was his language?

He put the book down on his lap.

Only 11 words into the journal and he was already pacing throughout his room. This was like Sci-fi except with some very real implications. Did that experiment create this whole world or did it just bring her here? Did it have anything to with the green light he had seen earlier?

Was he about to read the Silmarillion of this place?

He went through all the possibilities in his head, coming up with elaborate stories with all kinds of characters. His mind kept coming up with images of destroyed planets or rips in the fabric of time that changed whole laws of physics. All of it just to let horses fly!

This whole experience was so exciting yet so frustrating at the same time. It was like looking at a huge jig-saw puzzle with so many pieces splayed out in front of him, but he just couldn’t find out how they all fit together.

Due to his overactive brain however, he was going to have to wait to get all the pieces.

After who knows how long and sore legs he tried sitting down to finally read the dairy. It was that exact moment that the door decided to open again too. Great.

---

Looking over at the other end of the table, Cheeto looked despondent. She had barely eaten anything and decided instead to just stare down at her plate.

The pale purple mare gave her a look of sympathy and talked to her calmly.

In contrast, the rose mare chastised Cheeto. In a scene now routine to Boston, the argument escalated until the sounds were ringing in his ears. By now Boston had decided to call the mare Thorn, because she would cut you if you weren’t careful.

The supposed patriarch of the house just kept eating uselessly. The stallion who yesterday had hid in his closet shivering now had such an oblivious and almost child-like smile. It made Boston feel bad for him in a way.

Boston had no idea about the specifics of the argument, but it reminded him of home. He hadn’t seen his family for quite a few days now, and before he had seen ‘day 200-ish’ in the diary he hadn’t even really thought about it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to hear trumpets sound before he saw them again.

He almost kind of missed being yelled at for not cleaning his room.

When the yelling stopped, even the servants had all stopped talking. It was a quiet meal from then on.

---

Boston arrived back at his room a bit fuller than yesterday. It had been weird seeing the pegasi eat fish, but he had figured that if a horse could do it then so could he. The ravenous grumbling from his stomach had only strengthened that case.

He crept slowly toward his bed; the darkness made him feel like he was swimming through the abyss. Despite his caution, he still tripped on himself. Luckily, he landed on his bed instead of his head.

His descent into unconsciousness was not as fast as yesterday’s was.

The lack of exercise was what got to him. He hadn’t even been allowed outside! The lack of the endorphins he was used to made his head feel like it was full of toxic waste all stewing about. With his eyes closed all he could think about was how much he hated himself for not just reading the damn diary while he had the chance!

Not just that, but he stewed over the incompetent head of the house hold with his ugly purple hair who had just watched while his family ate itself out. He didn’t even know why he cared so much.

He tossed and turned through his sheets. He just couldn't find a comfortable spot, it was probably these stupid ponies who didn't know how to make real beds!

His frayed neurons made him angry at Thorn who thought that she could keep him locked up in here and away from the world! And Cheeto could've atleast...

He heard a bump from outside his room.

Glad for something to distract him, he creeped over to the door.

He pulled it open to see that there was no guard there.

While he moved around, he noticed his footsteps felt like they had at the end of the race. It was all so… ethereal.

When he got to the edge of the balcony, he was just in time to hear the front doors shut. He looked down to see the silhouette of a pony on their way out, but he wasn’t able to make out any features.

Realizing he wouldn’t have time to catch up if he went down the stairs, he went over to the part of the overhang without the guard rails that the pegasi launched themselves from. There he crouched over, hopped off the side, and then caught himself. For a second, he hung there like he had from the monkey bars in pre-K.

When he let go, he fell only a few feet. Nothing he hadn’t experienced jumping fences back in his home town.

What? Boston wasn’t going to let fences stop his ornithology.

Cracking the door open, he was just in time to see the figure turn at a corner up ahead.

Tip-toeing to the corner, the darkness from the overcast sky made it hard to see the medieval architecture he had admired the other day. Turning the corner, he saw one of the buildings whose door was cracked open and letting orange light flicker out.

Whoever it was could have gone into any one of the buildings, but something told him they would be in there.

He stopped just before he got to the door. Ever since the noise had woken him up, he hadn’t really taken the time to consider his actions. What had that pony even been doing in the mansion? Were they a robber? Boston doubted that they would be very happy that he had followed them.

Another possibility entered his mind though, what if it was Cheeto sneaking out of the house? Why would she go to this place though?

Only one way to find out.

The first things he noticed were the splintery tables and the cozy hearth. It was a real living tavern. He had always wanted to go to Europe to see historical places like this, but his parents always had other ideas. Now he was living in real history and seeing a real place in real use. Did he mention it was for real?

There were only a few ponies siting at one table, and among them was his red-headed culprit.

Cheeto was sitting with two other ponies. One was the pale-green stallion he had shook hooves with who still only had his hat on. He was sitting next to an azure blue mare who had on a plain brown dress. It didn’t take long for Boston to notice the bulge on her belly.

It also didn’t take long for all of them to notice Boston.

He saw their eyebrows jump up in surprise all at the same time, but from there their reactions split off in emotion. The green stallion’s smile grew and the blue mare shared the same awe-struck look he had seen in the all the other ponies the other day.

Boston expected Cheeto to either get angry at him after today’s class, or for her shock to stay longer than it did. Instead, she turned away from him, her posture and her ears falling.

Seeing all the emotion from everyone made him want to just slink out and forget this ever happened, but before he could, the stallion motioned him over. He reluctantly plopped down just opposite of everyone. The stiff chair made him twist and turn to get comfortable.

Being closer to Cheeto now, the look on her face made his stomach turn. She looked just defeated. There was uncertainty and self-pity there that he knew all too well in himself, but never thought he would see in his endlessly passionate friend that had led him to revolution yesterday.

She had been so excited about their lesson when he got there. She had looked like she had stayed up all night just to prepare it and Boston had barely even listened to her.

Between Cheeto’s sulking, the stallion’s stoicism, and the wide-eyed mare, not much was said between them. That was, until two more pegasi walked into the room. One male, one female, both looked kind of young.

The mare was carrying a tray with black mugs; they matched her black hair and white fur quite well. Other than the color, she actually looked kind of like Cheeto.

The tan stallion that flanked her was quite similar. Boston had a hard time telling if his hair was black or brown.

Both of them were completely nude. It let him see that they both had tattoos on their butts, the mare's was a mug with a heart over it, and the stallion's was a piece of paper with some of the alien writing on it.

Not giving him time to think about the social implications of only some ponies wearing clothes or the tattoos, they both rushed over and surrounded him in his seat while the other three took their drinks. The two bombarded him with noises that sounded like questions, and they didn’t hesitate to brush up against him. Boston just shrunk in his seat to avoid the contact.

Before he knew it this little corner of the universe filled with motion, laughter, and noise. Everyone but him and Cheeto were taking part in the fun.

They wouldn’t leave him out of it forever though.

For whatever reason the white barista nudged him and then said something to the group, causing them all to go silent. He zoomed through his head trying to think of something to do as they all stared at him expectantly.

He mouthed out the word Cheeto had tried to teach him earlier that day, causing the whole group to snort, clearly trying to hold back their laughter. Even Cheeto cracked a grin.

He hoped the word meant hello.

The barista mare tested him out again by pointing at one of the mugs and laboriously pronouncing a different word. Before trying to repeat what she said, he picked it up and felt it. Just like seeing Cheeto’s shoes, the smooth leather conjured up images of ponies killing cows.

With that in his head, he repeated what the mare had said. Clearly his hesitation before saying the word had acted like a hook, line, and sinker because everyone exploded into laughter.

While they all stomped their hooves on the table, Boston remembered the Serbian exchange student from 6^th grade. One day, the teacher had left class for whatever reason with no substitute, so the class decided to have fun with the new kid. They pointed at all kinds of objects just to hear his accent. They all burst out just like this when he omitted the ‘L’ in clock.

By the time they had all died down (which took surprisingly long) Boston now for sure had two horse words stuck in his mental filing cabinet. Cheeto also started talking more with everyone and lost the frown, so that was another win.

As the night carried on, he paid close attention to the way they talked. He realized that he was starting to parse the conversations and was able to decipher individual words, even if he didn’t know what they meant. Their phrases weren’t all just amorphous blobs of noise anymore. It also help him the get the meaning a little when they gestured over to him while talking to each other.

When the barista mare left to bring another round of drinks for the group, there was an extra mug on the tray. She tried offering it to Boston. When he shook his head she just snorted and put it right in front of him anyway. When he looked down it was just milk. It was nice of her, but he almost felt excluded now seeing the fizz in everyone's drinks.

As the night went on things incrementally got quieter. The laughs grew softer, but the conversations became more intimate in a way. All their words grew hushed when the tan stallion with the paper tattoo just fell asleep on the table, his drool making a little puddle.

Boston yawned. Not long after Cheeto did too.

He had had fun and learned a lot, but he decided it would probably be best to get some rest. Cheeto gave a silent motion to the door, and Boston nodded in agreement. The dark bags under her eyes had only grown since this morning.

They both waved goodbye and got up to leave, and those still awake waved back and went back to their little conversations. Boston didn’t understand how they could go for so long.

The air felt cold on the way back, but he felt a little bit warmer on the inside.

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so long. I had about half this chapter done when I came to it, but it was kind of a mess. I do plan on continuing the story from here, I estimate the next chapter may take 2 or 3 weeks.

As always, all criticism is welcome.

Comments

[Hichigo]

Love this!

[Brybrysciguy]

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Glad you liked it!