Jonathan Tucker sat down at his kitchen table to enjoy his last meal: A two pound steak marinated in olive oil, black pepper, garlic and rosemary with sautéed Brussels sprouts and a bowl of bean and barley soup. For dessert, a slice of rhubarb pie and a beer (Modelo, to be exact) to wash it all down. For a last meal it would have been decent if only he could bring himself to enjoy it more. He looked around his little apartment, now void of all joy. His wife had left him a few months earlier. It was probably for the best. On top of his Anna being gone, he’d gotten laid off from his job at the outdoors sports store six months ago and he had become extremely depressed, nearly to the point where he couldn’t function. Sheila left him a few weeks after he got laid off and promptly filed for divorce.
Jonathan would make it easier on her. He walked over to the far living room wall. There were pictures of a smiling couple with their little girl. His little girl, his Anna. Oh, his Anna… She died eight months ago. Just another victim of the serial killer finally identified as Marcus Fletcher. It all seemed so surreal, his little girl’s death. She was taken from their life just like that. No warning, just one visit from the cops. Anna first went missing on a Thursday in November, right from the grade school parking lot. There had been a misunderstanding between Sheila and him about who would pick her up from school that day. They both arrived at the apartment thinking that the other one had gone to get her. Frantic calls were made to the parents of some of Anna’s friends, hoping she was with them but no one had seen her that day. Twelve stomach-churning, sleepless nights later the cops were at their door. Anna had been found dead in a dumpster and stuffed in a duffel bag outside of a video store only miles from their home. Her head was shaved to the skin and her teeth had been pulled out. The police informed them that Anna had apparently been picked up by a man in a brown truck who claimed that her father had to stay late at work and had asked him to pick her up. He then took her out of town to an abandoned horse stable where, Jonathan and Sheila learned, she died quickly and painlessly with an injection of arsenic. They were told this as if knowing that fact was supposed to help them cope. After the injection Fletcher brushed Anna’s teeth and washed and combed her hair before removing it all. Sheila threw-up and fainted upon hearing what he’d done. Jonathan had to fight the same urge himself. Anna was Fletcher’s fifth and final victim, all girls between the ages of seven and ten. According the news, one bowl was found in Fletcher’s attic for each victim. He would drape the little girl’s hair in and around the side of the bowl and lay their teeth in the center as if to recreate a bird’s nest with eggs in it. All he was after were those items, and no one had a clue as to why. Why? Even though he knew the answer couldn’t bring Anna back, even though he knew no answer would ever be satisfactory, Jonathan obsessed over that one simple question: Why? And now they would never know because Marcus Fletcher had been strangled to death by his cellmate in prison not two nights after being arrested. It was suspected that the guards on duty that night not only saw a fight break out between the two prisoners and did nothing to stop it, but encouraged it and even went as far as to handcuff Fletcher to the cell bars so he could no longer fight back. What happened that night was never fully investigated. After Anna’s death, whatever was left of Jonathan and Sheila’s marriage gave way beneath them. Both of them were completely consumed by guilt and equally consumed with quickly growing hatred towards each other for letting such a thing happen. Jonathan shook his head, as if to shake the thought out of his brain, before averting his eyes to another picture. This one was of him when he was in the Marines during the Gulf War. Inside the frame under the picture hung a Silver Star and a Purple Heart.
After the war in the Gulf, Jonathan was diagnosed with chronic posttraumatic stress disorder, better known at the time as Gulf War syndrome. When he came back he found it hard to adjust to civilian life. He would jump at ordinary things like loud cars, slamming doors and fireworks. He also suffered from nightmares every night for years. It was always the same. He'd find himself in a battle pinned down by enemy fire. There was an explosion from a grenade he knew he had thrown, followed by a flying, twisted mass of body parts. Hands and feet and decapitated heads hit him like shrapnel. As Jonathon wiped the blood from his face he’d yell into the sky without a sound while a tightness gripped his chest harder and harder until he’d wake up sweating and panting. After a few years the dreams became less frequent until they finally stopped. But they all came back after the terror attacks of September 11, 2001, in New York and were even worse. Getting married to Sheila when he was 30 couldn’t stop his suffering, and neither could having Anna three years later. But they both helped him survive. Now he had no one. Jonathan turned around and saw himself in a mirror. He was forty-two with muscular, big arms, a wide chest, and even thicker legs. He felt old and rundown. Sometimes he would look away, unable to face himself. But there was other times, like right then, when all he wanted to do was destroy that tired, worthless old man.
Jonathan screamed and threw the picture across the room. He tore down the other pictures and threw them, too, before putting his foot through the drywall. He thrashed around his apartment, breaking anything he got his hands on. Jonathon had one option: He would shoot himself. He had to shoot himself. The night he found out Anna died he knew he had to, but he couldn’t gain the nerve until Sheila left him. Now there was nothing to hold him back. Stomping into the bedroom he picked the gun up from his nightstand (his favorite, a 45 colt revolver) and checked to see if it was loaded. It was, like always. He cocked back the hammer, put the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Nothing happened? He thought. The trigger was limp and the hammer didn't even budge. The mechanism connecting the trigger and the hammer together was broken. Jonathan gave out a grief stricken laugh, then dropped the gun and cried. Sobs turned into wide-eyed hyperventilation. I can’t believe it! He mentally screamed. It was beyond his expertise to fix. A throb in Jonathan’s head made him aware of his surroundings again. He went to the medicine cabinet, vaguely thinking about finding painkillers. He didn't find any painkillers, but what he did find surprised him. There, right in the back of the medicine cabinet, was a full vial of insulin and a needle. Sheila born with type one diabetes. It surprised him that she’d left this behind. As he pulled the needle and vial out of their black casing Jonathan went wide-eyed again with realization. His heart pounded so fiercely that every limb seemed to have its own aching pulse. His head throbbed more every second and the pressure behind his eyes was becoming more intense. Shaking hands grabbed the vile and the needle. Jonathan was so engulfed by desperation and anger than he hardly noticed he was back on his living room couch. He filled the needle up (What’s going to happen when I’m dead? He wondered), tapped it with his finger (It can’t be worse than this. It CAN’T be!), and plunged it into a bulging vein in his arm, pushing its contents into his bloodstream. He threw the needle aside and laid back. He thought about his mother and father who both died in a car accident seven years ago. His peripheral vision was starting to go; two black curtains were slowly moving across Jonathan’s eyes. Fear combined with a deep sense of relief closed around his entire body and thoughts. He remembered his darling Anna. She always had a smile on her face. They would sometimes go fishing together. She would always throw the fish back, She didn’t like killing the poor little fishes. The curtains move closer. Involuntary crying overtook Jonathon’s final waking moments. Anna didn't watch very much TV, but there was one show that she just adored. My little Pony: Something is Something. He never could remember the last part. Somehow she always convinced him to watch it with her. Jonathan remembered Anna was always beside herself with giddy joy whenever a new episode would air. The curtains closed shut, and the last thing he remembered before the darkness took him, was his Anna and her smiling face.
The first thing Jonathan Tinker remembered when he came to was the sensation of being outside in the open. A soft babbling of a creek was the first noise he heard, closely followed by the chirping of birds and what he was sure was the very distant sound of wolves howling. Wherever he was, it sure as hell wasn't his apartment. He rolled over onto his back. I'm lying on grass, he remarked to himself. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. He tried to remember what he had done that had brought him here (Where was I last? Where am I now?) when a flood of memories bombarded him with such intensity that for a moment he felt it was actually happening. The gun… The insulin… His Anna… Oh, God… He grabbed his head as a roaring pain filled his mind. Every memory from his apartment brought more pain than the last and he knew if this lasted it would drive him mad. Finally the memories ceased and the pain along with them, leaving Jonathan a quivering wreck on the ground. When the quivers subsided and the last remnants of the pain were gone, Jonathan sat up, his back protesting. It was not fun being in your 40s. You got tired more easily and you got hurt more easily as well. It was chilly enough to make him shiver slightly. That was another thing about getting older - you weren't as resilient as you were in your youth. Jonathan's eyes adjusted to the dark. The faint outline of trees began to reveal themselves. He stood up and staggered over to one of them. He could smell the fresh odor of pine sap. Is this the afterlife? Jonathan wondered to himself. If it is, then is this Heaven, or Hell? Or do Heaven and Hell exist? He remembered the memories and the pain moments ago and for a moment he was convinced this was Hell but he was too disoriented to think clearly. As far as he knew this could have been Valhalla. All he knew for sure was that he was dead. No one man could take that much insulin and live, he was sure of that. He looked around and tried to gain his bearings. This entire place, what little he could see of it, was completely unfamiliar to him. But in an eerie way it wasn’t… Jonathan sat down with his back leaning against the tree and was surprised by how smooth and soft the bark was. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. It would be better to wait for morning before he did anything else. Pure exhaustion couldn’t make Jonathan sleep. It was too damn cold. He still had on what he was wearing in his apartment: A pair of black cargo pants, the kind you saw the SWAT team wear, a pair of size 12 tall, leather boots and a dark blue T-shirt. A warm breeze drifted by that stopped Jonathan's shivers momentarily. He dozed fitfully until the sun began to rise. The rays of light quickly grew in intensity. It seemed quicker than any sunrise he could remember. He rubbed his eyes and slowly opened them.
What Jonathan saw next confused the hell out of him. He closed his eyes again, hoping everything would return to normal. It didn't. When Jonathan opened his eyes again, everything, the trees, the clouds, the birds, everything, was a cartoon. Even in this shadowed, thick forest he could see that his surroundings were brightly colored and lacked texture. Everything was simply shaped, even cute. Jonathan scoffed at himself. Rocks and trees, cute... He almost laughed. Looking down at his shaking hands he realized that he too, was a cartoon. His whole body started to shake and tighten as his mind spun circles in confusion. Jonathan stood up and walked towards the sun. Instincts told him he had to keep moving while he thought about what exactly had happened. When his predicament fully sunk in he lifted his face to the sky and screamed, “God damn it!” He screamed again and again and collapsed on the ground, pounding his fist on the grass until he wore himself out. When he finally started walking again he didn't care where he went, he just had to get somewhere. After a few hours of following what looked like game trails, Jonathan wondered if he was going in circles through the dense forest. He came across the ruins of a house. The walls were barely standing. The roof had completely collapsed and was now a rotting heap of beams and thatch. Not knowing what else to do, Jonathan decided to take a look inside. Among the dust and rotting wood there were only three things - a burlap bag, a frying pan and a large double bladed axe. He put the frying pan in the bag with some dry sticks for kindling. Jonathan didn't know what this cartoon world had in store for him, but what he did know was that fortune favors the one who is prepared. The axe needed sharpening in the worst way. In the corner of the room he found a fist-sized rock. It wasn't the best for sharpening an axe. He'd much rather use a file or at least a Whetstone, but since he was deprived of both he would have to make do. This place looks so familiar, Jonathan thought. He couldn't shake that feeling, he knew this place, but where had he seen it? The axe was just starting to get an edge when a scream of terror pierced the still air. It was definitely a woman’s scream. Jonathan dropped the rock and ran out of the building towards the screaming, axe in hand. He ran as fast as he could, his legs like liquid springs. The further he ran the louder the screams were. He ran and ducked between trees until he reached a small clearing. What he saw took him completely by surprise. A yellow… pony with wings and a pink mane and tail? Was being chased by a giant lizard? Jonathan didn't know why he so quickly assumed the animal was a pony. It didn't look much like a pony with its oversized head, saucer-size eyes and short snout. He looked again. I know you… Then the realization of where he was hit him. My God, I’m-- The screaming of the pony snapped Jonathan back to reality. This reality, anyway. The lizard had her trapped against a cliff. She didn't try to fly away. Instead she curled up into a ball and whimpered in fear. Jonathan turned around to leave. He didn’t know what else he could do. Jonathan hadn’t felt this overwhelmed since he was in his apartment. With his heart beating between his ears and a sudden dizziness threatening to make him collapse, Jonathan closed his eyes and prayed to wake up from this. This was all too much for him to handle. As he took a step back into the woods something stopped him. An oath he had made to himself as a young man, the reason he joined the Marines. Defended those who cannot defend themselves. The words screamed at him, taking over any sense of doubt, confusion and fear until Jonathan did the only thing he could. He gave a war cry and charged the lizard, with all of his anger focused into one destructive desire. The yell got its attention and the lizard faced Jonathan and roared. Jonathan was nearly on top of the beast now. Raising the axe he brought it down with his huge strength upon the nose of the pick-up truck sized lizard. The axe didn't cut through the scales, but Jonathan felt bones and cartilage give way underneath. The beast roared in pain and tried to back away as Jonathan savagely hit him again, this time in the jaw. The lizard, now desperate, quickly turned around and with its tail hit Jonathan full in the chest, flinging him several feet in the air. The axe disappeared into a bush. Jonathan landed hard, the back of his head hitting the ground before the rest of his body. Dazed, he stumbled to his feet and staggered in front of the pony, who was now watching in horrified amazement. He knew that without a weapon of some kind he would be next to defenseless against such an imposing adversary. I'll throw rocks at it if I have to, Jonathan thought. But the lizard, who was now sporting a crushed nose and a few broken teeth, stomped back into the forest. Only when the beast’s yelps of pain grew dim did Jonathan let out a sigh of relief. With shaking legs, Jonathan turned around and looked at the pony who was still frozen in fear. “Are you alright?” Jonathan asked. “Ye-yes I-I am.” The pony said, still quivering. “Good,” He breathed before he passed out. Jonathan regained consciousness what only felt like seconds later. He couldn't open his eyes, so he listened instead. It was very quiet, much quieter then the forest. There was a strange ping-ping noise coming from his right. That sound was so familiar, but he just couldn't place it. He realized that he must've been some kind of hospital. Do ponies have hospitals? Jonathan wondered. The door opened and Jonathan heard two people (or ponies?) enter the room. Then what sounded like an enormous boom vibrated through the room as something metal hit the floor. To Jonathan is sounded like an explosion. Immediately he was back in the Gulf. He tried to reach for a gun or a knife, anything, but his hands wouldn't move. He wanted to jump to his feet but it was as if his body was dead. “Nurse, please do be careful.” An older man said. “Sorry, Doctor,” The nurse replied. She had a very pretty voice and Jonathan could help but wonder what she might look like. “Who is our new patient?” The doctor asked. “Jonathan Tinker. Forty-two years of age, ex-Marine and in a coma. His next door neighbor called the police to file a noise complaint. When the police arrived he was laying on his couch with a syringe and an empty vile of insulin on the floor.” The nurse said, uninterested. “Is he a diabetic?” The doctor asked. The nurse flipped a page, “No he isn't, so what does that mean? Attempted suicide?” “That's the only conclusion I can come to,” The doctor said sorrowfully. They talked for a little while longer about Jonathan’s condition before leaving. Jonathan laid there stunned by what he just heard. No one could have survived that much insulin, no one! he tried to convince himself. For what felt like hours Jonathan laid restlessly in his hospital bed with only the ping-ping machine as company. Finally the beat of the pings rocked him to sleep.
“Umm, hel-hello? Rise and shine, sleepy head. That is, well, you've been asleep for a long time now, and I thought that, um, you might be hungry or thirsty. I hope I'm not disturbing you, it's just I don't want you to be hungry or anything,” Whoever was talking had a very sweet, if not shy, voice. Jonathan couldn't help but feel calm. The giant lizard and the hospital was just a bad dream. He opened his eyes and his entire body went stiff with shock. It was a good thing he wasn’t a screamer or he might have done so. Jonathan wasn't in his apartment or in the hospital, but back in the cartoon surroundings staring at a cartoon ceiling. This must be a dream… Please, God, let it be a dream… He knew this must mean that he was alive and in a coma at some hospital. There was no way this could be real. “Oh, okay, you’re awake. How are you feeling? You got hit pretty hard by that giant Gila monster.” Jonathan didn’t respond, he only stared at the ceiling. She persisted, “Are you hungry or thirsty?” Jonathan realized that yes, in fact, he was rather thirsty. He sat up and saw that his hostess was the yellow Pegasus with the pink mane and tail. “Who are you?”Jonathan asked, a little more gruffly than intended. “Oh, my name? It’s Fluttershy,” She answered nervously. “Well, Fluttershy, some water would be fine,” He told her, softening his voice. “Okay, I'll go and get that. You just make yourself comfortable. I won’t be a minute,” she said cheerfully, flying out of the room. Jonathan sat up and looked around. He was in a nice room. All the colors were warm and pleasing to the eye. The furniture and very style of the room was mostly Victorian inspired. The bed, though comfortable, was far too small for someone of his size. Jonathan’s body hurt all over, but not as bad as he thought it would, considering he was recently hit by a tree sized tail. That never happened, Jonathan. This is a dream, remember? Jonathan reminded himself. It sure feels fucking real, though.
Jonathan sat in silence until Fluttershy came flying back in with a tray balancing a large pitcher of water and two cups in her hooves. She set it on the bed-side table. “Thank you,” Jonathan said quietly, taking a glass and filling it. Fluttershy asked tentatively, “So… what's your name?” Jonathan drank and said, “Jonathan Thucker.” “That's a nice name,” Fluttershy paused and looked around the room, as if looking for the right words. “I hope I'm not bothering you with these questions but, well, I was just wondering, um… what are you? It's just that I've never seen an animal like you before,” She turned her face away, letting her hair hide what Jonathan sensed was embarrassment over such a question. “I’m human,” Jonathan replied. “Oh…” She stood there trying to recall that word, “I've never heard of a human before,” Fluttershy paused again as Jonathan drank more water before asking, “Where are you from? How did you get here?” “Please one question at a time,” Jonathan said. “Sorry…” “It's all right,” Jonathan tried to think of the best way to tell her. Obviously he couldn't tell her that he had attempted suicide and was now laying in some hospital bed in a coma. He had the feeling that she wouldn’t understand, and if she did she would be horrified. So Jonathan finally settled with, “I'm from a little town very far away from here and how I got here is anyone's guess. I fell asleep and woke up in the forest,” Fluttershy looked confused but he continued, “Now I have a question for you - Where am I and how did I get here?”
Fluttershy answered quickly, “Well, you’re in the spare bedroom in my cottage, which is right outside of Ponyville in the Kingdom of Equestria. As for how you got here, you were dragged back her after you saved me from the Gila monster. You’re very heavy,” She noted before quickly adding, “Of course I-I don't mean that in a bad way!”
Jonathan grabbed one of the bed posts and slowly, painfully stood up. Fluttershy looked worried, “I don't think you should be walking around in your condition, but of course if you want to that would be okay, I suppose," Jonathan looked down at Fluttershy. He must've have been a full two feet taller than her. He walked to the mirror right next to the window and looked at himself. He was surprised by how much he hadn’t changed. His cartoon reflection looked a lot like his real self. He also looked as he felt - like a train wreck. Jonathan’s long blond hair was rather messy but his full beard looked untouched. “Do you have a brush I can use?” Brushing his hair had become a morning routine he had never broken. It helped to feel normal, in the same way a morning cup of coffee did for most people.
“Yes, I do,” Fluttershy said, flying out of the room again before quickly returning. Jonathan took the brush and tried to brush his hair but couldn't. Every time he reached up his neck burst into pain. Fluttershy, seeing Jonathan's discomfort, came to his side, “Are you in pain?” She sounded very worried.
“Yes,” he rubbed his neck. “My neck, I must've tweaked it when that damned lizard hit me,” I'm lucky that’s all I tweaked. Jonathan took his head in both hands and twisted, first to the right then to the left, cracking his neck loudly. It helped a little bit, but it still hurt. Fluttershy cringed, “Doesn’t that hurt your neck?”
“Not much,” Jonathan tried to brush his hair again but he was still in too much pain.
“I can brush your mane if you like,” Jonathan nodded and gave Fluttershy the brush. He didn't bother to tell her that humans have hair, not manes. She had to fly over him to do it properly though, but she did a good job.
“Thank you,” Jonathan said when she finished.
“Oh, it was no problem. Now I think you should get back into bed and recover,” Fluttershy urged, nudging Jonathan towards the bed with her two front hooves. He lay down in the same position he woke up in, and Fluttershy, to Jonathan's chagrin, insisted on tucking him in like a child.
“Thank you,” Fluttershy said sweetly when she was finished adjusting his pillow.
“For what?” Jonathan was confused.
“For saving me. I don't know anypony, or any creature, that would fight a monster like that, head-on. I'm just sorry you both had to hit each other so hard.”
“Hmm, yes…” Jonathan said under his breath, “How long was I asleep for?”
“The rest of yesterday and this morning,” Fluttershy informed him.
“Have you told anyone about me?” Jonathan asked.
Fluttershy looked down and nervously pawed the floor, “Well, umm, I didn't exactly tell anypony. I mean, well, a few of my friends saw you and helped me drag you inside and, well, they started to ask questions, and… I didn't want to lie so I told them how you saved me. I hope you're not angry with me. Please don't be angry!” She was so nervous that it made her sound fearful. Jonathan saw how nervous his question made her. So he put on a warm smile and said, “I’m not angry at you.”
“You're not?” She asked, still nervous.
“Not at all. As a matter of fact I would love to meet some of these friends of yours,” Jonathan was lying through his teeth. Frankly, he didn't feel like meeting all the happy prancing ponies that he vaguely remembered from TV, but he knew that saying so would make Fluttershy feel better, and it did. Jonathan was about to say something more when a white rabbit bounded into the room and stole Fluttershy’s attention.
“What is it, Angel Bunny?” She asked. Angel pointed towards the door.
“Is there somepony downstairs?” Angel shook his head, then walked around the room flapping his little arms like a chicken.
“Oh my! I forgot, I need to feed the chickens,” Fluttershy flew out of the room. She popped her head back into the doorway to say, “Feeding chickens doesn't take very long.”
Jonathan needed to process his new surroundings in solitude, anyway, “You take as much time as you want, I'm not going anywhere,” Fluttershy smiled and left. When he heard what he assumed was the front door clicking shut, the smile he had pasted on for Fluttershy was gone and replaced by a frown that perfectly described how he was feeling – pissed off. He laid there, trying to hold back tears of regret and self-loathing. All he wanted was to die and stay dead, was that too much to ask? He rolled over onto his side and let self-pity overwhelm him. For the first time since his daughter's funeral, he cried. Not tears of rage like when his gun broke. These were tears of despair. He despaired because he failed, failed to be a good father, a good husband, a good human being, for that matter. How selfish I am… Jonathan thought and let tears flow freely.
Jonathan wept until his eyes could no longer make tears. He sat up, grabbed the bedpost, pulled himself up, and painfully walked over to the window, grabbing one of Fluttershy’s petite chairs on the way. He took off his boots and watched the world go by. There wasn't much to see as this window faced the woods. Time passed like this for an hour or so. As he was wondering what Fluttershy was doing, the door downstairs creaked open and the sound of multiple pairs of hooves accompanied by low whispers echoed through the cottage.
“What kind of a critter is he?” Asked a country twang Jonathan didn’t recognize.
“He said he was a human,” Said a quiet voice that was unmistakably Fluttershy’s.
“How you know he's a he?”
“I'm not sure. I guess I just know. He seems like a he.”
Jonathan groaned. He didn't feel like visiting with anyone, but it didn't seem like he had much choice in the matter. Besides, he supposed he wouldn't want to be rude, even only to figments of his imagination. From behind him, Fluttershy’s small voice said, “Oh, I didn't know if you were up. Are you feeling better?”
Jonathan turned around. Fluttershy was standing in the doorway by herself.
“Yes I feel much better. I heard voices downstairs,” He said, gesturing towards the door.
“Oh yes, my friends are here. Are you feeling well enough to visit?”
“I am.” Fluttershy turned around and said, “It’s okay, girls, come up!” Five ponies entered the room. The only one he remembered by name from the show was Pinkie Pie because of her utter randomness and acting like such a spaz all the time. Oddly enough, she was the first one to come forward. Jonathan stood up to greet her when out of nowhere she leapt up and gave him a hug. “Thank you, thank you so much for saving our friend!” The sudden leaping hug had caught Jonathan off guard. “Um, you’re welcome, it was no problem,” Pinkie Pie loosened her death grip of love and dropped to the floor, beaming up at him. Now that the ice was broken the other four ponies came forward. “Thank you, partner. I'm Applejack and this here is Pinkie Pie,” The orange one in a cowboy hat said, shaking Jonathan’s hand vigorously. So this is the country bumpkin, Jonathan thought. “Thank you, I'm Rarity. Charmed, I'm sure,” A white pony with a horn on her head and huge, gravity-defying curls daintily shook his hand. Unicorns, too?? Jonathan was surprised by how little he remembered from his daughter’s favorite show. I clearly remember something, though – this is my subconscious, after all. Another unicorn, a purple one, trotted up and shook his hand, as well, “Thank you so much, I'm Twilight Sparkle. I hope we can talk more extensively soon, I have some questions I would love to ask you,” She was very cheerful and smiled at him. “Yeah, sure…” Jonathan said. A blue Pegasus with a rainbow mane and tail cautiously walked to Jonathan, “I'm Rainbow Dash. Thank you for saving Fluttershy,” That's what her mouth said but her body language, on the other hand, said, If you ever mess with me or my friends I will put you in your place. She was clearly a fighter and Jonathan respected that. Jonathan took a good look at the six ponies and noticed one thing they all shared: Insignias on the flanks. He’d noticed the three butterflies on Fluttershy earlier, but the other ponies each had their own – Three balloons, three apples, three diamonds (three was a common number, apparently) and also a cloud with a rainbow lightning bolt, and a fuchsia star surrounded by five smaller stars. These insignias perhaps had some kind of personal meaning, but what it could be he couldn’t remember. Pinkie Pie looked around, seeming to be looking for someone, “Hey, Twilight, where’s Spike?” “Oh, Spikes still asleep. He had a long night last night,” Twilight replied. Rarity spoke up, “Oh, dear, that's a pity. Spike would have loved to have met, um, what was your name again, darling?” “Jonathan.” “Yes, he would have loved to have met Jonathan.” Jonathan had no clue who they were talking about, “Whose Spike?” “He’s my assistant.” Twilight informed him. “So, Jonathan dear, Fluttershy told us you’re not sure how you got here,” Rarity said, delicately. Jonathan sat back down, “Yes, that’s true. I fell asleep, and woke up in your forest,” He still avoided telling them the full truth. It would raise questions that he didn’t feel like answering, even if it was just a dream. “So, what happened next?” Twilight asked. “Well, I walked around for a… a few hours, it musta been. Then I came across this rundown, old shack. Found an axe and a few other things. I was actually trying to sharpen the axe when I heard Fluttershy, here, screaming. I think you probably know the rest. I fought off that megalith of a Gila monster, got hit pretty hard, passed out and now I'm here.” Rarity looked a little distressed, “It must have been horrible for you, having to trudge around the Ever Free Forest like that.” “Wasn't that bad, actually, I think you have a rather nice forest,” Jonathan said. The six of them were taken aback by this statement. “You mean you don't know?”Applejack said. “Know what?”Jonathan asked, confused by such a strange question. Applejack took a step back and told him, “The Ever Free Forest just ain't natural. The plants grow,” Fluttershy took a step forward, “The animals fend for themselves,” Rainbow Dash also spoke up, “And the clouds move,” Then the three of them shouted in unison, “All on their own!” Twilight rolled her eyes and Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle to himself, it seemed so ridiculous. Rainbow Dash seemed insulted, “What's so funny?” She demanded gruffly. “I'm sorry but, that sounds like my world,” Jonathan immediately cursed himself. He didn't mean to say “my world,” and the thing he was trying to avoid happened. “What do you mean by ‘your world?’” Applejack asked, raising an eyebrow. Jonathan realized that he’d screwed up and there was no point holding back the truth now. At least most of the truth. He would still keep the suicide business to himself. “This is going to sound weird, but… I’m asleep. In a coma, actually. I had gotten, um, very ill and I had to be taken to the hospital. I don't know why I'm here. I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming, but this is like no dream I've ever had.” “I think that Gila monster hit you harder than we thought, Sugarcube,” Applejack said, trying to sound soothing, as if she was talking to a psychiatric patient. “Perhaps, but I am sure that I'm dreaming. Well, as sure as I can be at least,” Jonathan told her. “Now, darling,” Rarity said in that upper crust accent that seemed to fit her to a T, “Surely you don't actually believe you're from some other world.” Jonathan responded quickly, “Are there other humans here?” None of them knew what to say. “Have you ever seen or even heard of anything like me before?” He continued. The ponies all looked at each other, looking for the one who could answer “yes,” but it was obvious that no one knew. They all looked away uncomfortably, except for Twilight, who had her head tilted to one side, thinking. Her head suddenly straightened and she had a big smile on her face like before, “I remember something I read in a book called Obscure Phenomenon. It suggests that there are a countless number of realities all coexisting and unaware of each other, and through very special circumstances beings from other realities can travel back and forth.” “What kind of special circumstances?” Rainbow Dash asked, sounding impatient. “Well, a discharge of extremely powerful magic or,” Twilight stared at Jonathan, looking concerned as the smile faded from her face. She said shakily, “or near death,” They all gasped, except for Jonathan, who sat there looking unperturbed by this news. “If this is true, I'm so sorry you had to find out like this,” Twilight softly said. Jonathan crossed his legs, “Near death, ho, well all that means is that I'm still alive, right?” He said, putting on a fake smile. It seemed to do the trick. The six ponies relaxed at Jonathan's optimistic tone. “Well, I'm sorry everypony, but I have to get back to Sweet Apple Acres. Thank you again, partner, wherever you're from,” Applejack said, tipping her hat at Jonathan. Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Rarity said their good-byes and followed suit, leaving Twilight and Fluttershy left. Fluttershy spoke first, “Twilight and I were wondering if you wanted to see Ponyville.” “Where would we go?”Jonathan asked, unsure. “We can go to Sugar Cube Corner, and there's always the market, or we can even go to Sweet Apple Acres and meet the Apple family,” Jonathan didn't know what it was about Fluttershy but whenever she spoke all of his anger and self-loathing seemed to take a backseat, at least temporarily. Jonathan smiled a real smile and said, “That sounds nice, just let me get my shoes back on,” As he was lacing his boots up, Jonathan couldn't help but wonder, “Don’t you think that it might be kind of strange being seen with me?” “What do you mean?” Twilight asked. “I mean, I'm this large, strange looking creature that no one has ever heard of. I could only imagine that I might look kind of scary.” Twilight waved a front hoof in a, no, that’s ridiculous jester and told him, “I don't think you should worry. Many of these ponies have seen strange and unusual things before.” Fluttershy took a step forward, “Twilight's right Jonathan, you don't have anything to be scared about.” Jonathan finished tying his boots and stood up, “Please lead the way, then,” He said and gestured towards the door. He almost surprised himself by his willingness to go, but what the Hell? It was only a dream, after all. I might as well do something, he thought.
