A Touch of Chaos

by Written Out

Poor First Impressions

Dear Diary Journal

I don’t understand what’s happened to me. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. My memories of the time before I woke this morning are…hazy. Indistinct. I am writing my thoughts down now in the hope that it will help me hold on to them. I’m scared, journal. Scared I might lose something, might lose myself.

I can hear monsters in the forest outside my cave. But that’s not the worst part, though it is scary enough. What really scares me is that I can identify and picture the creatures making the noises, despite never having seen them before. I hear a cacophony of roars in the distance and instantly identify it as a hydra. How can I know this? Hydras are mythological, they do not – CAN not exist.

I would think it’s simply my imagination at work, but I am writing this article with a piece of charcoal by the light of a burning strip of bark soaked in the juice of a mysterious fruit. As soon as I saw this orange fruit this morning, I knew just by looking at it that I shouldn’t eat it, and that it would burn extremely well. Explosively well, in fact. Rather than just trust this impossible knowledge, I decided to test it. Breaking apart the fruit with a rock (I didn’t believe the juice was acidic, but I would rather test things like that on things that are not me), I spread the juice over an open area, free of vegetation and covered in rocks. If my mysterious knowledge was correct, I didn’t want to find myself suddenly needing to outrun a forest fire.

Hiding behind a fair-sized rock, I pulled my book of matches out of the backpack I woke up with this morning (no idea how I ended up with either), lit it, and lobbed it over the boulder in the direction of the puddle of juice. I instinctively cowered behind my safeguard as if I expected the fruit to go off like a grenade. Good thing I did, because that’s exactly what happened. Once the world stopped shaking and my ears stopped ringing, I cautiously poked my head out from behind my protective rock shield. What I saw simply stunned me. The area had been scorched black, and several smaller rocks had been thrown a fair distance.

My first thought was that I was VERY glad I had decided not to eat the fruit. My second was that it would make a good torch if I soaked the bark of a certain type of nearby tree in it. I won’t repeat my third thought, but suffice to say it was a series of swears and an unfavourable comparison of my second thought to the idea of using a stick of dynamite as a candle and then being surprised when the inevitable occurs. I won’t bore you with any more of the details, journal, but one experiment later and I had determined it was my third thought that was incorrect. This place doesn’t run on any sort of logic I understand.

I just reread what I’ve written, and I realize that most of what I’ve said has been a completely useless tangent about the Firexplosive Fruit. I must be more stressed out than I thought. I should start from the beginning and work from there. Maybe everything will start making sense.

My name is John Doe. Yeah, I know. My parents must have had a sick sense of humour. I’m not really sure, I can’t really remember them. I think I remember them being at my most recent birthday (27th, if you’re curious), but names, voices, faces; I’ve got nothing. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. “Wakes up in a mysterious location with no idea how he got there and is suffering from amnesia, how clichéd,” right? Don’t judge me, you’re not here.

Who am I writing at?

I’m worried, journal. I’m afraid. The only memories I can clearly remember are today’s. When I woke this morning, I was perched in a tree. I barely had any time to respond before the branch beneath me cracked and I was lying on my back at the bottom of a tree. Before I could catch my breath and realize what had just happened, a backpack tumbled out of the tree and landed heavily on my face. I swear I heard the universe laughing at me, journal. Blinking the stars out of my eyes, I took a moment to look inside my new backpack. And even if it’s not new, it’s still mine now. Maybe I should have tried to look at my surroundings before exploring my backpack, but I didn’t realise I was anywhere dangerous at the time. I was just lucky nothing found me. I know that now.

The first item I pulled was a simple woodcutter’s axe. It must have been what landed on my head when the backpack fell out of the tree. Thankful it was the flat side and not the blade that struck me, I put it aside. It would have been the perfect way to start the day; with an axe embedded in my skull. Or maybe that would be ending my day? I'm going on a tangent again. Moving on, the next items I pulled out were a trio of full water bottles and a cast-iron cooking pot, complete with lid. Taking a sip of the water, I found it to be clear, crisp, and refreshing. Additionally, there was a fresh book of matches inside the cooking pot. If I had packed this bag, I must have known that I would be in this bizarre forest for a while. So long as I find a source of fresh water, I be able to purify the worst of it by boiling it in my new pot. Feeling much more confident now, I stuck my hand one last time into the near-empty backpack. Inside I found you, dear journal. You were the last item in my backpack. Sitting there at the very bottom, waiting for me. I wonder what I'll think when I come back to read this article in the future? But I suppose that doesn't matter right now. I returned everything to the backpack, except for the axe, which I carried with me, and I took stock of my surroundings for the first time.

I was in a forest, but it was unlike any forest I would have willingly gone. It was like every tree, every bush, every blade of grass had been carefully placed to ensure the maximum amount of creepy. I have no idea how grass can be creepy, but it managed. I don’t clearly remember what the area I woke up in looked like – most of the day kinda blurs together. Four events from today really stand out: waking up; my encounter with the Firexplosive Fruit; finding the cave I’m currently hiding in; and meeting with a horrifying monster in the forest.

Did I forget to mention that one?

I had been travelling through the forest at the time, using my axe to cut a path through any vegetation in my way. I had already found the cave, and was simply exploring to see if I could find anything that would help me survive. I had yet to encounter any animals, and I may have become complacent. My path bisected an animal trail, and then I saw…it. I didn’t see it clearly; all I got was more of an impression. It was standing a ways away near a turn in the path, staring at me. Whatever it was, it was a hideous shade of bright, bright pink and seemed to be standing in mid-air, as if the laws of physics didn’t apply to it. I blinked at the apparition, surprised to see such garish colour in this land of mostly green and grey. That’s when I was treated to an unpleasant surprise, and yes, more unpleasant than meeting the creature in the first place. In the time it took for me to blink, the creature had somehow moved from where I first saw it - a good thirty feet away - to directly in front of me. All I could see was its horrifyingly large baby blue eyes. Those eyes felt like they were boring into my soul, laying all of my worst secrets bare. The monster’s mouth opened, and a string of noises emerged. It was a constant stream of sound, as if the very gates of hell had opened up and one could hear the wailing of the Damned. The worst demons of Tartarus couldn't be this bad. Whatever the creature was, it filled me with fear for my life – for my very soul.

I reacted instinctively, journal. Bellowing a manly war cry, I squeezed my eyes shut and swung my axe at the creature standing in front of me. I didn’t hit it solidly, but I felt a little resistance as I swung and the monster stopped producing sound. I carefully opened my eyes and saw that the creature had leapt back out of range, but that I had managed to nick one of the creature’s front legs. The creature didn't do anything after that, instead it simply stood on the path and stared at me with those horrifically large eyes.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I fled, journal. I didn’t know what had happened or what the creature was, nor did I want to find out. I turned and ran for my life. The monster didn’t pursue.

I have no idea what that thing was, journal. I just hope I never see it again.

Comments

[Platinum2094]

Interdasting
Very interdasting indeed...
Can't wait for more!

[Jack Kellar]

images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20121108181704/scpcontainmentbreach/images/6/69/SCP-087.jpg
Now color it pink-and-blue. Voilá!

[Organized Chaos]

1859230 WE DO NOT SPEAK OF SCP-087-B ON A STORY ABOUT PONIES!

[matangadijolachanga]

i would rather read this on a normal font, that and the fact that this narration was not that fun before the manticore scene are my sayings on the meter.

[asmcint]

That bastard was an inch away from killing Pinkie Pie...

img19.imageshack.us/img19/3599/7942751312410161084full.png

[AnormalUnicornPony]

This seems like I have read this before... Not a dig but I am wondering if this is a re-write of another story. If memory serves right at least in this fic equestrian does not equal english... Interesting so far.

[ThatClosetBrony]

Writing in a journal with no pencil, nearly killing Pinkie Pie...You have done the impossible. I applaud you, Jane Doe. You will become a true soldier, and a BLU one no less.

[shapeshiftingpedro]

When I read this, I think of
fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/351/b/6/combustible_lemons_by_arri_stark-d4jfbuh.jpg
Does anyone else?