The Only Prescription is More Pony

by F.Venka

A Journey Begins

The movement was certain, much faster than what would be expected from somebody who has just woken up. My eyes were still closed. I felt alien immediately; I hadn't ordered my body to do any kind of motion and I was getting up from bed anyway. It felt rather different: the sheets felt quite less against my arms and, seemingly, my capacity to move my own arms had also lowered.

When my eyes finally opened, I could take notice of quite a high number of differences: the night sky was clearer, almost purple, the stars were quite a lot shinier, and the architecture of the place itself leaved no room for doubt - I was in a house, as opposed to my apartment.

The main difference, however, had yet to come.

Sitting on the bed, I, or better said, my body, left out a sigh, followed by a low growl. The voice was, too, different from mine: it sounded a tad lower and deeper, which isn't saying too much, either, for I never really quite developed my voice.

No the main difference wasn't that.

My body went forward, in direction towards the floor. I tried to brake or stop myself, but I had no control whatsoever over the movements that body made. No, that wasn't myself, I was only a member of the audience, so to speak.

That wasn't the difference either.

Before I planted my face against what seemed to be a wooden floor, a pair of equine hooves intercepted my route, before my own body made a completely new motion which felt an awful lot like stretching. Things started to get clearer rapidly: I appeared to be trapped inside the body of what must have been a horse, inside what must have a rather strange stable. The situation hit me like a good, unmissable chance and, without even realizing it, I started to pay attention to anything and everything I could hear, see or feel.

He lowered his hind legs from the bed-- hold on a second, a bed...? Why would a horse have a human bed in a small room, as opposed to a stack of hay in a larger, possible open place? And what kind of horse has learned to use a bed with such proficiency and naturalness?

As I was saying, he got out of bed and went out of the room in a rush. I could barely make out the pieces of furniture with their drawers half-opened, dozens of pages scattered about the place, and a certain something over one of the papers that gleamed with a metallic glow when it reflected the moonlight; what was that last object, that was something I couldn't discern.

The door opened with an honestly weird rope mechanism, where he introduced his hoof into a sort of ring and pulled a short distance. This allowed me to catch a tiny glimpse of his hoof, which only raised more questions: it was a tad thicker than what I had expected, and a tad simpler as well: I couldn't make out the pastern between the fetlock and the hoof. It was of a color similar to brown under the dim moonlight, bordering on burgundy.

In maybe two seconds, he was already on the other side of the door, in a slightly larger room. The fact of not being able to control and direct my vision whenever I wanted came off as barely tortuous to me, because the few things I saw did nothing about clarifying the situation.

I managed to distinguish more paper around the place, a table that seemed to be part of a dining room, a chandelier, more or that nondescript, luminescent material and a picture of three figures on which I couldn't focus. In a thing of instants, he was in a hallway, in front of a door.

The house itself appeared to be very human-like, which made me wonder about what being I was captive in. Was it a sort of civilized equines, perhaps? Like the ones from... that... show... that one I saw on the Internet some weeks ago. Was it that?

He sat in front of a door, staring directly at the opening mechanism. It was then that I heard his voice again, inexplicably closer to me:

How could I do it?

A question that I couldn't comprehend no matter how much I tried. What did he mean?

I had no reason to do it. His voice sounded again, close to me. It transmitted an irrational melancholy, almost as if I could palpate his sorrow and sadness.

He stood up and spun towards the right in a flash. A door I hadn't seen opened at almost the same time. Behind it was only could be a bathroom: the bathtub was undeniably a bathtub, it even had a curtain, and what looked like a toilet and a sink were also there. I could barely see it, but the curtains of the bathtub were stained with a dark substance at the bottom. He flinched and stormed out immediately, towards the main room once again. My figurative eyes went crazy again: all kinds of furniture flashed past my eyes, the mysterious brilliant material also on the floor.

He got near a small source of light and lowered his head instinctively. His teeth made contact with an unknown material and, before I could start to wonder what it was, I could already feel a cord against my body, or better said, his body.

"It's about time. The train arrives in twenty minutes."

"The train"? There are trains in this place? And "twenty minutes"? Where has he seen what time is it? How did he gain knowledge of time and when did he invent terms to refer to a certain amount of it? The amount of questions seemed to be growing exponentially and they only managed to make me doubt more and more the origin of this being. If I could have access to as much as one answer, I'd start building an hypothesis from there.

The source of light turned out to be another door, which was left clear by how I was now outside. A cold wind started to blow once outside, the weight of his saddlebags also quite high.

"It's like the Windigos have come back."

That phrase sealed the deal: I, of better said, my conscience, was in Equestria. But... where, exactly?

The architecture of the place seemed strangely similar to my eyes; it was like I had been there before. He wasn't of much help, looking at the ground almost constantly. The few seconds in which he raised his head to check the route were worth the wait; I could barely see correctly, but I managed to pick out certain things that helped me give myself an idea of the place in which I was.

It didn't seem quite like the Ponyville we're all used to; on the contrary, it looks different, like from a high social stratum, and that reduced possibilities a whole lot: chances where I was in Canterlot or some other, unknown city.

I took the fact of being in an almost completely new place with surprising calm and ease. There was an unexplainable feeling of familiarity with the place itself, which made me feel rather well.

The city streets were completely empty and silent, which wasn't a surprise at all: after all, it should have been really early in the morning and it's probable that nobody needed to wake up at such hour.

He walked for a quite long time, never changing his behavior. He passed his eyes over the houses without interest, without any kind of drive, slowly imbuing me in that melancholy that I couldn't comprehend yet.

When he reached what had to be train stop, he just sat near the border and fixed his eyes on the rails below. I never heard his voice in the time he stood there. The cold silence was killing me; I was made a whirlwind of questions and barely managed to fabricate theories out of the scarce details that I could collect.

I couldn't explain at least a part of what was going on. I felt, literally, that I was being dragged by this stallion, who also managed to drag himself. I could palpate the feelings of misery and self-deprecation, its wordless presence being more hurtful that the harshest of words and the most violent of actions. I had started to feel a natural sympathy for him: I didn't want to feel his sadness, I just wanted to end it. But... what could I do? I was only part of the audience, an unlucky spectator who regretted entering the theater as soon as the play began. My doubt and his uncertainty became one, filling me and the space I was in with the smell of confusion, a putrefactive pestilence that I learned to hate after nothing but seconds of being exposed to it.

He sighed again, the putrid smell dissipating a bit as it mixed with something else. What was it? Hope, faith, desire? All I knew was that it was positive in a certain way: any kind of distraction was positive.

His ears perked up as soon as he could hear the sound of a locomotive nearing, in the distance. At the same time, my scarce amount of space was filled with a different feeling: it felt like impatience, mixed with a pinch of resignation. What had led this stallion to take a train at this hour? Where did he pretend to go?

A cold blast of freezing wind hit him as the train slowed down onto a halt, the screech of the metal making him feel a physical pain, which I also could feel, literally, for some seconds.

It struck me intriguing, this situation of being able to actually feel somebody else's feelings, and the fact of being able to share senses with him, but not control him. Was I his consciousness?

The door of a wagon opened and, without even a thought about it, he entered.

Inside it barely felt warmer than the city, but it was enough to make me prefer the wagon over the cold wind.

The door closed behind him, making him spin around. He found himself in front of another stallion, this one relatively older and with a hat on, who had a look of doubt on his face. I could notice his white mane over his darker coat.

"Good day, sir. I'm Railroad, the train conductor. Are you the only one?"

"Yes, the only on..." replied my own body. "Good day to you as well, sir. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

They shared a smile before starting to walk forward on the train. Is Railroad the only one around here? I heard his inner voice say. Those were surely his thoughts, which only reinforced the idea that I was his consciousness.

"Excuse me but," said Railroad. "What is your name?"

"Silk Thread, but call me just Thread," answered my being. "It's less formal. Ah, by the way, how many other passengers are there in the train?"

A rather strange question coming from a random passenger, I consider.

"There's none except from you and me. There was an incredible decrease in the travel both from and towards Canterlot three days ago. You'd be the first one," he responded, in a joyful and friendly tone. The wagons were barely visible under the moonlight, so Thread focused on following the steps of the conductor.

At hearing his last words, Silk Thread stopped on his tracks, and I could feel surprise mixed with incredulity rapidly expand on the little room I could feel I was in. You mean you don't know what happened!? Silk screamed in his mind. After a few seconds, he resumed his trajectory. They had advanced three wagons already, but it seemed like their destination had yet to appear.

"Ah, I nearly forgot," said Silk with a chuckle, a diminute lapse of shame appearing. "I haven't paid my ticket..."

"Ha, there's no problem at all," replied Railroad, following his message with a laugh. "You're only one, and I was going to pass by the city anyway." He turned around, his blue eyes passing all over Silk's body. "Where are you going to? Now that I see you so loaded..."

"Ah, my saddlebags? They only look filled, they truly weigh next to nothing," responded the traveler. "I'm going to Appleoosa."

"Appleoosa, huh? I've heard wonders of the place and its population," replied the conductor, resuming his walk. "It'll take quite a while to arrive from Canterlot; maybe you'll arrive at night, even."

"I was aware of it, yes..." said Silk Thread, in a lower volume.

They continued with their walk up the train for some minutes before Railroad stopped again.

"Well, colt," he said. "This is the last wagon, or rather the first one, before the locomotive room. I'd appreciate it if you stuck around, it's just that... I feel... alone in this place..." His voice went down a bit, quivering a tad behind his insecure soft smile.

"I understand entirely," answered the traveler. "I'd imagine it's quite a lonely job to have."

"Yes, it is..."

"Excuse the change in topic but... you are from here, right?"

"No, I'm from Vanhoover," he responded, his smile growing a little. "A beautiful place once you get used to the cold. I ended up working here at the train business after a long time of working for Cherry Jubilee, far away, in Dodge Junction. I've lived there for some years, but I'm barely there lately. Great mare, that Jubilee; quite a sight. Last time I was around those parts, she had met one that went by the name of Applejack. Quite the stunning filly."

He left out a mixture between a sigh and a chuckle. "She had maybe twice as much physical capacity as me..." His smile never disappeared. "Am I t-talking too much?"

Silk didn't answer immediately; he was rather taken aback by the stallion's story. "Ah, w-what? Ah, no, don't worry about it," he sheepishly replied, unsure about what he had said. "You can talk as much as you want."

"I wasn't going to stop," said Railroad, followed by that trademark laugh of those who have lived an experience-filled life. "Just let me start the machine or we'll reach Appleoosa when we're old."

Both of them entered the locomotive room, having a short silent conversation in which they gave eachother their friendship with ease.

I was starting to understand a minimal part of the situation, though it didn't help much to positionate myself within time.

I'll be there at nightfall, then... I heard Silk's inner dialogue again. There's no better time. I'll be able to rest as soon as I arrive.

There was a moment where the only sound was the coal being shoveled and burning. The flame gave enough warmth to keep them both cozy. Silk's eyes were lost in the fire, the process and its luminosity dazzling him.

"Things had gotten quite salty between the Griffon Kingdom and Whinnypeg for an international limits... thing,... some time ago," Railroad recounted. "A cape of clouds, something like that, was in dispute. It was serious, let me tell you that."

"I heard something about that little ago," Silk replied. "What happened with that situation?" Thread laid down on the floor, the warm hug on convection producing a sudden drowsiness in him. He wanted to keep on listening to the story. Maybe I'll be able to clear my thought if I listen to him. Maybe I'll even manage to stay with him.

"I don't know, I already worked at Dodge at that time, and all the attention was stolen from it when the Nightmare Moon incident happened. I had been here for around two years, then."

"It's not like the media worry too much about the north..." said Silk, pensively. "It's almost like they don't consider them part of Equestria itself."

"Yeah, huh?" replied Railroad in his typical tone. You could almost feel how he'd mess up your hair after a friendly hug. "It's a place that takes care of itself, really."

The train started to reach an acceptable speed, its characteristic sound getting louder and louder as time went by.

Silk left out a yawn.

"Getting comfy, aren't we?" Rail joked. "You can go to bed in the wagon behind us if you wish to. I guess you're not used to waking up early, are you?"

"No, it's not that," replied Silk, the post-yawn tears betraying his lethargy. "I can stay longer awake."

"Try not to fall asleep with my stories, then," Railroad said. "If you need to wake up, it'll be dawn soon. You can use the Sun to wake you up."

He has this experienced air. It was his inner voice again. If I manage to go with him, I won't have a problem. There's got to be a way to make him go with me.

What could be this thing he keeps referring to? Has he any kind of plan?

This drowsiness will make me fall. I need to get up and do something...

I could feel his thoughts saying to me that he needed to get up, but it didn't go further than that. He ended up asleep in front of the cauldron.

"And... why are you wanting to go to Appleoosa?" asked the conductor, absent-mindedly. He directed his gaze towards his companion. "Silk?"

He laughed again, before focusing on shoveling coal into the fire. "You've already fallen asleep..."

I had waited for a sudden disconnection from that world, as it's usual in my dreams, but it didn't happen. I still felt myself inside his body when I heard his voice again.

It's over, Silk. You've ended it.

I was starting to get tired of how cryptic his thoughts were. I asked the air:

"End what? What happened before this?"

I'm not sure of what kind of response I expected, but I'm at least sure that I wasn't expecting an actual response:

Don't make me remember it. I swore I'd leave those memories and my past behind.

"What past? What are you talking about?" As I said that, the vague image of the bathroom came back to me for some seconds, before disappearing as Silk spoke once again.

I've told you that you shouldn't remind me about it. Stop it.

I couldn't comprehend a thing past the fact that there was a certain event in his past, surely a traumatic one, that he doesn't want to remember.

You'll only hurt me and yourself. I beg you, please don't do it. We've been together for such a long time and I've done nothing to you.

Who was he talking to, exactly? To me? Had he already accepted the fact that his conscience wasn't under his control? ...Had it always been like that?

There was a very long silence before he opened his eyes again. The sky outside was considerably clearer and the stars were gone. When he lowered his gaze, he could see the conductor looking directly at him.

"Ah, you've woken up already," said Railroad, his grin never fading. "Sorry about the weird look I was giving you. I was just thinking."

Silk stood up and shook himself a bit, his tail somehow a mess. "Is it already morning...?"

"Indeed. You missed the dawn; ah, such a sight. Anyway, are you hungry?" asked the stallion of the white mane. "I think I have something around here."

How far does his generosity go...? I'm nothing but passenger out of many.

"Say, do you like oatmeal?" asked Railroad, opening the door to the second wagon, looking for a bag over one of the beds.

"Uh, wouldn't it be rude to be picky with gifts?" asked Silk, rather rhetorically.

"Uh, yeah, I guess...?" replied the driver between his teeth, leaving a white bad on the floor. "It might not be the best in the world, but it's certainly something."

"T-thanks, you shouldn't have bothered..." responded Silk, making half a circle in the air with his hoof, before diving in and starting to eat in a rather rushed way.

"Easy, colt," exclaimed Railroad between a laugh. "The oatmeal isn't going anywhere."

In root of this, Silk huffed in amusement, blowing oatmeal off, which managed to raise at nostril level. Silk gave a step back, ending up sneezing several times.

The older stallion just looked at him, barely holding laughter inside. He started to crack up some seconds of silence.

Silk just looked at a side.

"You put on quite a show when eating, huh?"

"S-so... I've been t-told..." replied Silk Thread, sheepishly, before shaking his head a little, some of the hair of his mane standing up a bit. "The Canterlot ponies didn't seem so nice while saying it, however..."

"I've heard about the capital city folk," replied the conductor. "A bunch of snobs, I've heard. Are they?"

"There are genuinely charming ponies, but the many that are there for fitting into the high society might come off as nothing but pieces of manure..."

"Well, then... speaking of Canterlot, what happened there that nopony wants to travel?"

I felt a sudden insecurity grow inside his mind.

"I'm n-not sure of what happened, but it had to be something strong..."

I didn't even have to lie to him.

Why lie? What had happened in Canterlot? Nothing but more questions surfaced.

Silk resumed eating, his insecurity vanishing.

The sound of the rails was the only sound present for a long span of time, before Rail decided to make another question.

"So... you were asleep before, when I asked. Why Appleoosa?"

Silk raised his head, looking at the floor. "Oh, that..." He moved his eyes back and forth between Railroad and a seemingly random spot on the floor. "It's just that I've heard wonders of the place, and I was looking for a change of scenery."

He gulped. "I also didn't really like the ambient at Canterlot. I'm not used to that."

Railroad just nodded. "Ah, I see. Do you have any family?"

"No," Silk blurted out suddenly. I felt his urge to hide something grow abruptly, almost crushing me.

"At Appleoosa, I mean. Are you staying with somebody?"

Silk left out a sigh. "Ah, not, either. I'm not quite sure of where I'll stay." The previous feeling was replaced by a soft inner peace. Huh, how different could his emotions get?

"Just like me, huh?" said Railroad, his sight lost in the fire. "I was like you, taking a train with a destination, but no clear destiny beyond it. It was quite a feeling, lemme tell ya."

"Yes, it is like that..."

"Well, let me stop myself before I start recounting my life again. You don't want to hear that. Neigh, you don't deserve to experience the pain of listening to that."

---

Their conversation went on for hours, the topic never changing from mundanity and Railroad's past. Silk avoided talking about himself as much as he could, giving incomplete answers or responding with indirect questions, the latter being always answered by Railroad, sometimes without even noticing.

The sun was high in the sky; it had to be past noon. Rail showed no tiredness whatsoever; Silk, on the contrary, was falling asleep again.

"You should get into bed," said the conductor, losing his friendly tone at last. "You look tired and, well, sleeping on the floor is an acquired taste."

"Y-yes, I know..."

Silk Thread, then, stood up and, between false steps and trips, climbed over to one of the beds of the wagon. I couldn't quite feel what he felt or hear his thoughts: the only thing I could see was the half-opened curtain and the sunny sky behind it.

I couldn't get my mind out of his short doubt lapse. He had said something about lying to Railroad about what had happened in Canterlot. I couldn't understand what led him to hide that, and also his reaction to when Railroad said that he hadn't heard about it. Maybe it was a very important event? Then, why didn't he tell Rail?

As if I had called for it, I hear his voice again, his thoughts being clearer now.

I wish I could forget it. Ponies always say you can forget things at random. Why not this...?

I tried to speak to him like before, but a strangely powerful feeling of numbness came over me. I couldn't think clearly, and I was losing he only sight I had.

Well, if I keep on thinking about it, I doubt I'll forget it... If only I could make myself focus on something else...

He closed his eyes a second later. He was obviously preparing himself to take a nap. I couldn't make him wake up, and I wanted to ask him so many questions.

It happened half a week ago, so I guess it's normal if I still remember it...

With that thought, I stopped feeling what his body touched, and was left in a complete void. He had fallen asleep with surprising speed, and the only remaining action was to disconnect me completely.

Comments

[I Am Known As Sketchpad]

Whoa, wut? Suspense!

Am I your only reader or something?

[F.Venka]

1680761
I think I should have added a last part to this chapter, but it might have gone on for a little too long, then: not that I really mind, but I don't want to make a 5k+ words chapter out of nowhere. How am I supposed to follow that, then?

...Umm, I guess no, but you are truly the only one who has bothered to comment on this. Not that there's... umm... much material to comment about...

[I Am Known As Sketchpad]

Hey, don't worry about it! You're a great author.

[F.Venka]

1733301
Aw, come on, don't say that. I'm nowhere near the best~
I promise you I'll put something up either later today or past midnight. I owe you a chapter.