Stories I've worked on but don't plan on finishing... and they're bad.
Writers go through a ton of ideas and even more drafts. Sometimes they turn out pretty well and other times... they end up like these...
A large and possibly growing compellation of stories I'll never yet finish. Read: they are unfinished and never will be. They are also not pre-read, so be prepared. Maybe make a drinking game out of how many errors you spot, you'll die after the first thousand words.
A man on Earth has obtained a camera that shoots the people in the photo into Equestria. He's having a lot of fun messing with the space-time temporal rift but you don't care about him, you want to read about the chick, don't you?
The hot blond with an hourglass bust and tanned skin, wearing an outfit almost skin-tight, landed dangerously on her high heels, making her teeter on the edge of falling face forward and ruining the pink trimmed shades on her head and spraining her ankle. The click-clack of the shoes echoed in the elongated hallway, decorated with lavish stones, ornate stain glass windows portraying various points of history, and vases on pedestals that were relics of time past. The sun was at mid-morning, casting a shadow nearly twice her height. The corridor was empty, devoid of servants and body guards. There was not a single sound other than the ones she made from texting away at her phone and chewing a well-used stick of bubble gum… out loud.
But, of course, she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings or her recent slip-up. In fact, she had only seen the flash of light which she assumed was a camera. She continued wandering around in her new location as if she was still on the side walk, too immersed in her digital conversation to even notice or care.
Jen_Jen: Hy grl
Liza: ?
Jen_Jen: Party 2nght?
Liza: Yeah :D
Jen_Jen: Drinks?
Liza: Tots
Jen_Jen: Like that 1 time?
Liza: With the guy?
Jen_ Jen: Yh, the 1 w/ the thing.
Liza: XD
As she absent mindedly turned a corner, she bumped into none other than Princess Luna who had her mane done into a ponytail so she could be free from distractions.
“Excuse me,” the regent pardoned herself.
“Yeah watch it you stupid bitch,” Jen yelled back, still using her Iphone.
“Oh, you’re one of those humans who have been arriving here,” she said politely as possible, trying to excuse the offender as much as possible for her vehement wordage.
Jen actually looked up and met Luna’s eyes and then realized a couple of things. One, she was looking at a horse. Two, she wasn’t on earth anymore. Three, this was totally tweet worthy.
OMG in EQSTA- Jen_Jen
“Oh my god, I’m like, sooo sorry! I thought you were like some stupid bitch who didn’t, like, know how to walk or something.” While she seemed earnest about it, the Alicorn suspected there might have been a lack of intelligence too.
Restraining her royal voice urging to roar, she complied with the peace offering. “Right, well if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy with constellation w-“
“Hey girl, I really love that hair! How do you, like, get it all, like, sparkly like that?”
“Oh, magic conditioner. Anyways, I’m busy with c-“
“And those boots? Sexy.”
“Thank you. As I was s-“
“Is there a restroom around here? I gotta, like, take a wazz.”
“… A-“
“And where are all the, like, people around here?”
“As I was saying, I’ll have a servant redirect you to Celestia’s counseling chambers,” Luna forced out almost in one breath.
“M’kay.” Jen popped a bubble while the midnight mare whistled for assistance. Within moments, a silver colored servant with short but finely combed hair, slicked back, arrived.
“Redirect our guest to the appropriate station and to a lavatory so she may relieve herself of her… wazz.” The alicorn held a hoof to the guide’s ear. “And be cautious with this one.”
A click noise suddenly sounded from the electronic device. The blond turned the rectangle around, momentarily laughed at the screen, and then updated her Facebook status.
I’d order her to fornicate with herself, but something tells me a new participant helps her with that every night.
~~~
“-and that’s like, when Amy, like, took this giant piss in the pool and that’s when Kyle, my douchebag X, went like-“
“Oh how unfortunate,” the servant joyously interrupted, “it appears we’ve arrived. You’ll just have to relay the rest of that fascinating yarn to me at some other time.”
“Kay kay! Bye Silvy. Call me?” she made the cellphone sign with her hand.
“Don’t have a phone or thumbs. Ciao!” he yelled as he rapidly left the area. The human turned around to see a large, white, winged and horned horse sitting upon a lovely throne.
“Hello,” her deep but calming voice permeated through the empty room. Even her guards were absent. “Are you my latest guest to our lovely castle? From what I’ve heard, you’ve already had the pleasure of being acquainted with my sister?”
“Girl, oh my god, girl, that hair,” she said aloud, completely passing the previous conversation topic. “Do you have to dye that often because if not, I’m soooooooo getting that. It’s bitchin’!”
Celestia, not often one to receive compliments, delicately ran a hoof through it. “Thank you, I appreciate the… compliment,” she responded politely, almost in the form of a question. She felt obligated to return one, but she was having a bit of trouble. “Your clothing really brings out your… eyes.”
“Oh, I know right?”
Slightly confused, she replied, “yes?”
“Like, me and some friends were at JCP the other day looking for cute tank tops and I saw this on the rack on sale and I was like ‘Abby, I gotta get this’ and she was like ‘No way, it’s shit’ and I’m like ‘Guuuuuuuuuurl, this is fabulous!’ and she’s like ‘that just totally sounded like Jacqueline’ and I was like, ‘oh I know right?’”
“I… see.”
“So I talked to the guy at the register and he was like, a total hottie, so I gave him my number and he said he was gay. I was like, ‘Bitch please, no one is this gay.’”
“Uh… huh.”
Before she could continue her onslaught of destroying every ounce of dignity to the English language, Jen’s Iphone beeped and she whipped it out faster than a sugar charged ninja with throwing stars. With adept precision, her thumb unlocked it and she went tapping away, replying to some IM.
“Before we continue with the rudimentary procedures for temporal return, may I ask what that peculiar device is? I’ve been seeing it in pockets all day, but it would have caused much delay if I had inquired earlier.” By that, she actually meant she was terrifically afraid it was a weapon; though, one wouldn’t have guessed that with her air of formality.
“What, my Iphone?” Jen answered, too engaged in the latest hot topic amongst friends to return her attention to Celestia.
“Yes, what does that device do?”
“Like, oh my god, we gotta catch you up on the times.”
~~~
Jen and Celestia were now sitting in the same throne seat, both grinning idiotically at the same Youtube video.
“N-n-n-no! Wait for it…” Jen shushed the princess who was choking back a large laugh, or attempting to at least.
Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… KA BOOM!
“Did you see his face!?” the blond laughed out. He was all like ‘waaaaaaaaugh!’”
“And the car was like, ‘ka bwaaaaa’,” Celestia added on. The two were using their hands/hooves to portray the event they had just seen as if it made it more comedic than before.
There was now a line of about ten adult humans, either patiently standing and tapping a foot or sitting while resting their head on a propped fist.
Luna entered through a side entrance with a relieved expression. “Ok Celly, I got the star charts realigned for t-“ as she absorbed the new situation, that being her sister sticking her tongue out while dragging her hoof across a device she had viewed earlier and a line of unhappy people, her jaw dropped. “What in the name of the Elements is happening here!?”
One man with a scruffy beard spoke out in annoyance, “we were told to come here and these two have been having a hay day up there! I wanna go back home to my wife and kids. They’re probably worried sick! All we’ve been listening to for the past forty five minutes is trashy music and giggling!”
“Forty five…” her voice trailed off in disbelief. Her royal side kicked in and she commanded, “Servants! Pardon my assertiveness, but escort them to my wing of the castle and retrieve the portal trafficker and put those who need immediate return on top priority is reimbursement for their generous patience. Divert all traffic there. I’ll be there shortly to accommodate the others shortly.
“And Celestia! Shame on you for losing yourself so easily!”
“Ugh, like that take poll out of your ass, Lulu.” Then, the two at the throne highfived and continued what they were doing: the human was braiding her hair (and occasionally sniffing it) while Celestia was reportedly setting up something called an e-mail.
This newcomer has corrupted her, I need to extract this threat.
“Oh, calm down, Luna, she’s only kidding,” Celestia defended her companion. “It’s just how she and most of her friends speak. Their society is much more relaxed than our own. I would really love to visit the country of Cally one day.”
“And look what has become of you! Just check what’s in your mouth, ‘Tia.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re getting a-“ as her hoof reached her tongue, she saw a pink, slimy substance sticking to her golden décor. “Is this…”
“Yes, it’s chewing gum. You hate chewing gum, Celestia. Within the hour, that wretch got you to abandon your morals and revert you to a prepubescent state. Imagine what she will accomplish within a day.”
Absolute horror spread across the sun alicorn’s face as the epiphany set in. Then, she sterned herself, swallowed the gum, and magically unbraided her hair. “Luna, forgive me for my actions. Jennifer, I need to send you back to your planet. Immediately.”
“But Cella, we’re BFFS!” she pouted. “You’re gunna let that skank tell y-“
A bright flash of light and a whoosh later, Jen was gone.
Life is like assorted jellybeans. Sometimes you get the flavor that makes your brain explode and sometimes you eat one and your mouth turns into rubber. One day I got the one that tastes like crap dipped in a dumpster filled with homeless people. Waking up in the middle of an apple orchard with no recollection of getting there will do that to you; oh, and finding out half your legs are cut in half doesn’t help either. Regardless, I’m willing to find out why I was brought here through any means necessary, even if the answer isn’t what I’d like to hear.
Alarm clocks can be an annoying thing to wake up to in the morning (or at any time, actually), depending on the buzzer. They’re about as patient as an infant and unrelenting as a preachy teacher. Parents and siblings are worse because they not only speak, but with voices that are often shrewd and condescending. A bucket of ice cold water is probably a dream land’s demon. Though I suppose if my first sights of the day consisted of my room ignited in flame that wouldn’t be too nice either. Or nukes... nukes are bad too. But nothing could have compared to a dense object to the back of the head from who knows where. Now that’s a new one, for me at least. But, I’ll admit, it was pretty damn effective because I’m awake now.
I attempted to grumble something profane about how it was too early even though I had no clue what time it actually was, which was more of a reflex than a conscious objection, but when I spoke my mouth was filled with clumps of dirt and the aroma of grass. Obviously, that’s not right. Why was my face in a patch of dirt anyways? Why wasn’t I in my bed? Was this some cruel joke? Was this another prank!? I swear to God there’s going to be retribution!
Another object thumped the back of my noggin and I was getting pretty frustrated about it. Wasn’t once enough!? Angrily, I lifted my neck and was about to shout until I saw what I was looking at. My jaw dropped; not a single decibel of noise was emitted.
A lush green field littered with trees, rolling hills, and a solid blue sky painted with soft fluffy clouds graced my view. On the trees a couple red and green dots could be depicted and I could only assume they were apples.
“What- why- how is this?” I stuttered out. I didn’t honestly expect an answer to come from an empty field (though the ways things are going, why not?). Waking up in an unfamiliar place with no possible means of understanding why isn’t exactly going to allow me to “ooh” and “aww” at the fields. The reality of the situation was: I was here, in a field, with no adequate explanation other than that Johnny was probably being an ass again; after that stunt with the bed full of fish I wouldn’t put it past him.
A peripheral vision check confirmed that two plump apples were lying in the grass. It also confirmed that I was under the shade of a tree filled with more similarly apple-shaped fruit precariously perched on branches. In other words, this one tree was probably worse than alarm clocks, cold water, and parents combined. Not nukes or fire though, they’re still bad. From what I could tell in this position, chest down to the earth, I was in the middle of nowhere.
The unfortunate part to all of this was that I couldn’t feel my arms or legs; anything beyond my shoulders was as limp as a twizzler. I could see I still have arms, so I know that they are there, but they just weren’t responding. I couldn’t see nor feel my legs, but I assumed it was the same. I lay there, head resting on its side so as to not wind up taking a dirt nap, so to speak. I was pretty sure I was going to give myself a nasty crick in the neck at this rate, but what could I do? Lie there and suck it. Well, I opted for the first option and substituted option B for C, sleep. If an apple landed on my head, so be it.
But, then again, this is all probably just some sickly stupid dream anyways. I’m from the city. People don’t randomly wake up, face-down I might add, in fields when there isn’t a farm for miles around. Even Johnny wouldn’t waste gas for something as dumb as this. The fact that I can’t feel my arms or legs contributes to that. It’s a dream, that’s that. No self, I won’t let you argue anything else, I’m going back to sleep. Or going to wake up in the real world, which is sleep here, but in... no, just sleep.
___
Snooze buttons are my best friends. Violently hit them on the head and they shut up for a few minutes. In fact, they’ll go all day if necessary and they won’t complain! That of course is also a draw back. They’re consistent, persistent, determined, and probably mentally damaged by my fist. On the other hand, trees don’t have that option. They follow a whole other calender when it comes to living. So, when I was rudely awoken, yet again, by a fruit hitting my head, it was a cruel reminder about my apparently surreal circumstances.
So, I guess this isn’t a dream then? Well… just… fuck! How the hell is that fair!? I can’t move, fruit is working up my list of hated foods, the tree doesn’t have a snooze button, my stomach is starting to grumble, and my arms are sore as all crap. When I find out w-
Hold it. Go back a couple thoughts there.
Soreness… as in, feeling? As in, I can feel my arms right now? Like, I could lift this arm, right now, and grab that apple and then eat it? Stomach, how are you feeling? Starving? Alright, lemme remedy that situation. I think that’s exactly what I’ll do, I’ll eat that apple.
Though an unrelenting burning coursed through the nerves of my arms, I managed to pick it up with a cumbersome sweeping motion, forcefully plopping the red delicious-ness into my jaw with an audible pop. The aroma of it was tantalizing, that or I was hungrier than I first presumed, because my nostrils went to heaven and back with a message. This smelled divine, they said. My stomach and I were inclined to agree with my imaginary speaking nose. I took a large, satisfying chunk out of it and my eyes grew to the size of bowling balls (not literally speaking, of course).
I was once told by my father that smell is a window to taste; I didn’t understand what that really meant until now. That metaphorical window was smashed into tiny shards and that one bite filled an entire mansion’s worth with flavor and goodness. I’ve had delicious food before, some from very expensive and fancy “frou-frou” places, but this? Succulent, gorgeous, better-than-a-four-course-meal, knocking socks off amazing. My entire body was reinvigorated with a new stamina known only by demi-gods in the days of old. Seriously, this could cure depression, breast cancer, and the plague while still having some strength left for world peace. My stomach exploded with fireworks and a crowd inside had a celebration of epic proportions. When I find the person who owns this place, I’m going to submit every job application imaginable and demand to be paid with these.
After eating every last morsel, even the core, I flopped over onto my back, letting my partially extended stomach and my front relax in the cool shade. This was without a doubt the most comfortable spot on Earth. I took a moment to inscribe a large dirt X into the soil near the base of the tree. I shall name this spot “the day I experienced nirvana”. I stared up into the sky through the openings in the branches. Maybe it was mid afternoon, I wasn’t sure. I still couldn’t feel my legs, I didn’t bother to check. Lifting my head would have ruined the moment. It can wait.
I felt my eyelids droop as if anvils were bringing them down; at that moment I didn’t care why I was in a field, why these apples tasted like heaven, or even if a meteor was about to crash land at any moment and destroy me. There wasn’t one (from what I could tell) but if there was one is the point. I think people are too paranoid about that, but who cares? It’s time for another nap.
___
Sunlight can be a friend or foe. It can give a rockin’ tan or a simmering sunburn, it can wake someone up politely or keep him/her awake arrogantly. It’s what gives plants life and takes it away if the plants fail to receive water. When I awoke for the third time that day, it was approaching sunset. I could tell because the openings in the trees were now a vibrant orange instead of that benevolent blue showing earlier. Frankly, I was just happy I got up of my own accord. It felt relaxing.
Thankfully, I was on the sun’s mutual side as I found myself neither tan or burnt. I stretched my arms out, they didn’t hurt as much as opposed to earlier, with an awe-inspiring yawn. I scratched my stomach and lazily licked my teeth as I picked out a few leftover bits that had wedged themselves in, trying to stay for my fantastic company, I suppose.
Strangely enough, I still couldn’t feel my legs. I hadn’t bothered with them all day. “It’s not like I was even going anywhere anyway if I even still had them,” I joked to myself . I propped my head up slightly, craning forward to adjust my view. I… couldn’t see them.
Maybe it’s too dark already?
I swung my arms down by my sides and grasped at my lower half. I could still feel my thighs with my hands, which was a relief, but I was becoming paranoid about it. Why couldn’t I move them? My arms came back to their senses after a while… why not my lower half? Using my elbows as extra leverage, I gained more altitude, and instantly regretted it.
There was a simple explanation as to why I couldn’t see or feel them: they just weren’t there. Beyond my kneecaps were a pair of stubs, plain as day (or evening as the case may be). No blood on the ground, no brutalised appendages lying around, strewn about like some horror movie, they were just… nonexistent. It had to have been a dream; there wasn’t anything else this could be. I had these yesterday before I fell asleep on my mattress! I grabbed a wayward stick and swiped it through the area that they should have been. It went right through. Gone.
I drew countless lines through dirt where they should have been in a futile attempt of rejecting reality. A small rut of upturned soil had formed before I stopped. A definitive line of where I ended. A cruel marker of my own design. I threw up, making sure to avoid my body. It tasted of apple. I felt nauseated, with a side order of headache to boot.
I scooted backwards but the stubs followed me like ghasts hungrily seeking food. Tears poured down my face, lip quivering, and my nose dribbling large globs of snot managing to stain my shirt. It wasn’t a pretty sight, none of it was. As the natural light of the day faded, my stomach knotted as I pounded my fists into the ground. I don’t remember much of what I said, it didn’t matter, Reality was wrecking my confidence.
I was out from under the shady tree in the open, under a night sky that was emitting stars. I cursed at those stars, I cursed at that tree, I remembered the X I had drawn.
I crawled towards it and I rubbed it out of the ground. I called it a cruel bastard. A day I experienced Nirvana and hell. I hugged the tree, seeking embrace, something to lean on. It wasn’t a kind tree, it refused to return the gesture, I wailed at the bark with fists and words.
By the end, I knew I had curled up in a fetal position, staring at the nubs that had once been my complete body. I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried.
They were well rounded, complete semi-spheres. It didn’t make sense…
I had them there yesterday. Didn’t I?
Why? Why would they be gone?
Nothing answered. Again. I was alone in the night. It was warm, probably summer. I didn’t know, I didn’t care. I somberly fell into sleep once more in dire hopes that maybe… maybe I was still dreaming.
___
I was resting against the tree with my back, head dropping forward. The sand man had paid me a visit, generously crusting my eyes making them difficult to open. Eventually, I managed success. The first thing I saw were the premature tips of my former legs. It was still like yesterday. I don’t remember much of what happened last evening, most of it is fuzzy to me. Strangely, no nausea. I guessed I was empty. A green apple fell beside me but I wasn’t hungry. My stomach grumbled. Maybe I was hungry? I grabbed it and took a small nibble. It tasted bittersweet. My mouth said yes but my head was only reminded of the foolishness of yesterday. I finished it, keeping my sights upward in an attempt to avoid my new life dilemma. Out of sight, out of mind.
There wasn’t any point in sticking around here; this tree wouldn’t last me forever. My body was seeking new food and actual water. Somehow, I needed to get moving and find something that resembled shelter. I looked down further, my shirt used to be a solid blue but it was covered in ugly splotches of green and red. I probably had a nose bleed even if I don’t remember it. Some of my snot had crusted into the fibers. I looked a mess; I could taste dry blood just above my lip. I wiped what I could off of the shirt. Nothing much came off. My shorts had no such problem except for the green chlorophyll that had rubbed off on them from yesterday. It’s not something I should bother myself with right now.
I looked around. There wasn’t any sign of shelter other than trees nearby, though I’ve already had quite enough of those. Based on the organization of how they were planted, I guessed this was a farm. Farms meant farm hands, which meant people. People are a source of assistance. I began to crawl away, chest down to the earth, in hopes of finding something or someone. I decided to travel at the nadir of the hills to save my strength.
I meandered for hours and found nothing but the same scenery: trees, trees, hills, and imagine that? More trees. The only thing that had changed was how hot the day had become and the soreness of my elbows. I had to remove my shirt and use it as a bandanna. I moved around half-naked for a while more before tiring. This field was huge and I didn’t even have a clue of where I had been going. I might have even gone in a circle, who knew? I certainly didn’t.
I flopped onto my side, panting. I was about to give up and nap again before I heard a very faint thumping. Something was hitting something else and as far as I knew, trees didn’t do that. I couldn’t easily follow the sound because the trees bounced it a little. It sounded like it came from the left, so I headed that way. My elbows and arms were like lead weights, but I propelled myself forward. The bandanna was drenched with copious amounts of sweat, serving more now as a wet rag rather than an absorbent cloth. My pants had small holes and were tearing apart stitch by stitch at the bottom. There was a small hill with a lone tree on top. I scrambled up against gravity and an embarrassingly long time later found myself at the apex. Despite my prevailing locale, on the other side was something I couldn’t believe.
It was a brute of a red horse with an orange mane and it was kicking an apple tree. The fruit it had grown dropped into buckets precariously placed beneath it, remarkably falling into perfect pyramids. Even stranger was the branding the animal had. It wasn’t like normal brands where a white hot iron was pushed towards the skin (or sometimes it was the exact opposite with extreme cold, though the results are arguably the same) but it was a large green apple with I guess the inner part of the core showing. I’ll just assume it’s a him. I’m not a veterinarian, but I think I would know from a glance.
He didn’t seem to notice me, so he walked behind another small hill. He returned with similar pails and placed them on the ground near the tree trunk. I was baffled that this creature was, and indeed could, performing sentient actions. I wasn’t sure if horses could even be trained to do something like that outside of carrying something. He hit the tree once this time and not one single piece was misplaced when they fell. Whoever had taught this horse how to execute this method of harvesting was a genius. I guess I was saying my inner dialogue out loud because he looked at my hiding spot and reeled back a few paces.
I don’t really blame him; I could tell that I stank a little so he probably got a whiff of me as well. Hell, if I saw a person hiding behind a tree, I’m pretty sure I would freak out too. That or maybe I was just that ugly.
It wasn’t a kind thought, but I somehow found a sarcastic joy in it. Regardless, if this stallion had been educated, a teacher would logically be required. That means there is someone who can get me some help.
I whistled at the red horse in hopes that he’d come over. He seemed timid about it at first but eventually approached me. Perhaps he wasn’t given much social time with other animals or people. He stopped a good distance from me. I didn’t see it before but he had a stick of wheat coming out of his mouth like a country man. I seriously can’t wait to meet this trainer, he has an awesome sense of humor.
“Hey there big guy,” I said while coaxing him forward with my hand. A position that in retrospect must have looked bizarre: a bedraggled man with half his legs, lying face down in the dirt, coaxing a workhorse who weighed at least thrice him with an outstretched palm.
He nodded, yet he stayed put. He appeared to be looking me over, though I imagine he couldn’t see beyond the hill crest, so only my face and my shoulders were visible to him. I attempted speaking more words he might understand: sit, heel, whoa, anything I could think of from movies I had seen. Alas, no response.
It was obvious that the vocal approach wasn’t working, so I tried a new one. I replicated the stallion’s unique action of harvesting by hitting the one near me with the side of my fist. Miraculously, a polished red apple fell down and landed in front of me (for once, not my head). His ears perked up and he licked his chompers a bit. I rolled it down to his hooves as a sign of good will. Not that I could have done much if I meant him harm. Somehow, he understood. He trotted up the hill to where I was and paused as he loomed over me. He didn’t take the apple, which I found odd.
I was about to prop myself up against the tree and possibly see about mounting him, though I only really realised just how big he was now that he was close, when he walked off. Just… walked away with a whinney. Uhm, hello? I had to lie there and take it as he walked over a small hill and disappeared out of my sights. Seriously, I’m pretty pissed. If I could just stand up and w-
I had to swallow a lump in my throat. No, it wasn’t the time to go through something else like that. Right now, you need to focus on finding the owner. He/she can get you some help and maybe clue you in on what the hell is going on here. At least a location on a map or something. Throwing a tantrum like yesterday won’t do you jack crap.
I began to slide onward down the slope when my elbows gave out from underneath. I guess they had had enough by now. After the distance I had traveled, circular or otherwise, I’m not surprised.
Rolling downward, I let my consciousness release itself from my body. By the time I reached the bottom I was on the brink of passing out. The last thing on my mind was to affirm that I was facing towards the sky. Voluminous ether was taking over in a one sided war and, for once, I was perfectly ok with that. When it finally did win, we shook hands and I moved out to dream land.
___
Stars, of the astrological kind as opposed to celebrities, are a curious subject. For thousands of years people have used them for a myriad of purposes: navigating, predicting weather via patterns, wishes, calendars, horoscopes, romantic backdrops and millions of sci-fi movies. I’m a city dweller so I never had the opportunity to see any at night. City’s pollute the sky with their millions of artificial suns, sheltering them from a darkness that they don’t fully understand. One might think that out here in the open I’d have that chance or that yesterday I had the time. I… don’t want to talk about yesterday.
Unfortunately, I still haven’t gazed at those twinkly lights. Something nudged my side which forcefully removed me from my dense sleep. I could hear an imaginary squeaking in the back of my mind as I lifted the veil over my eyes. A silhouette of the creature’s head was above me. I might have retracted a bit in horror if the deadweight I called my arms weren’t completely drained.
“What do you want?” I asked him with a yawn louder than I had meant it to be.
He turned his head like he was beckoning me to follow him. I humored him and turned my head and, to my surprise, I saw a three wheeled wheelbarrow tipped on its side. Oh, ho, ho, but not any wheelbarrow, one large enough to fit a person (and then some), lined with pillows and a blanket. Lastly was a rope that was attached to both the farm tool and him. Especially in my exhausted condition, it was nice to see someone had sent me a carriage.
I pointed at myself and somehow managed to convey being quizzical.
He nodded; as if to say, “well obviously it’s for you, dumb ass.”
Well, ok, maybe not the dumb ass part, but he did nod.
It occurred to me that this creature had whisked himself away back to his place of origin and found his trainer and… somehow got the point across about a person in distress. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew basic math. Maybe the person was an old fart who just so happened to be a horse whisperer. I don’t really know and I wasn’t going to rationalize a rescue. I pulled out whatever remaining strength I had (my chin had to participate a little too) and crawled into the rescue barrow.
He situated the vehicle upright and departed with me in tow. The sweet relief of knowing that I would finally be getting some kind of answer was enough for me… For the first time in the past couple days, I think I truly relaxed.
Waking up in an unfamiliar bed is often perceived as one of the scariest thing in the world; it usually makes a few things come to mind. To me, it means that I’m in someone else’s house (obviously) and the people who own it have been generous enough to let a stranger sleep in a room, alone. So if they’ve been trusting of me I have to trust them! That alone isn’t the scary part. What are the people like? Will they expect me to make up some work? Are they ugly? Will I have to date one of their children (hopefully a daughter in my case)? Will I have to pay them for eating a few of their apples over the last couple days? And here I was hoping to finally find some answers… all I’ve done is create more questions. Though, I do expect that in my new… handicapped state… half of those answers are “no”. And yet I’ve met people cruel enough who could say yes.
I could hear a barely audible ticking somewhere near me. At a guess it was a clock, but it was too dark for me to be certain. The bed I was in felt extremely roomy. I managed to spread my arm’s length across the entire mattress and my fingers only barely drifted beyond the edge of the bed-spread. I felt like I should have gotten up, but I was tucked in. I guess the only thing I can do is head back to sleep.
And yet, I couldn’t just go back to dreaming; something didn’t feel right, like there was something watching me here, in this room. I rotated my head to the right and saw nothing but more darkness. I assumed there was a wall there. To my left I noticed a slim section of orange, flickering lights near the door. It was probably a television or maybe a candle. It was a country house after all. I chalked up the “something watching me” part to my imagination trying to get the best of me.
I lifted my arms out from under the blanket and fluffed the pillow. If felt a tad… hairy. I mean, it was obviously a pillow, but I guess the last guy who was sleeping here must have been shedding or something. Thick hairs too. Geez I hope there wasn’t something wrong with him.
I tried to lift the stubs I called legs and managed some success. There wasn’t any particular reason for it, it was just nice to know that there was still something there.
I felt a tear spontaneously dribbled down my cheek. I don’t know why that is though because I’m not in a particularly sad mood. I felt my face with my hands and it felt damp. I had been crying last night. Normally, I’d call myself a pansy but I didn’t have the energy to do it. I stared into what was to me open space and let a wave of mental fatigue carry away my consciousness into an alarmingly large sea of doubt.
___
A rooster crowed in the distance, and then again… and then one more time. “Hey, wake up! Suns up! Oh my god I’ma tell the world again! YO EVERYONE! SUN’S UP!” That’s probably what he was saying. I gave my condolences to the hens nearby, I couldn’t imagine waking up to someone screaming in my ear every morning at that magnitude. At least my parents only yelled once. With no small amount of effort on my part, and some encouragement from another gratuitous “cockle doodle doo”, I managed to force my eyelids open. Curtains had been drawn in my room and light immersed the square room, momentarily blinding me. My guess was that this room’s window faced the sunrise. Over on a drawer that was on the opposite side of the room was a clock with two bells on it. It didn’t look to be set to ring so I didn’t see the need to get angry at it. I never learned the name of one of those things, though I’m pretty sure it’s still called a clock. Most of it was made from brass and it was directly in the sun’s path so it should have been reflecting a lot of light. I noticed that a thin layer of dust was destroying those expected results which also told me someone had gotten it just for me out of a dusty drawer or maybe the attic. It probably could be assumed that this room wasn’t used often either.
The walls had some basic decorations clinging to them: hooks, paintings of horses, pictures of horses, and some kind of wall mount that was, yup, horse shaped. I’m starting to wonder if these people who live here are horse crazy. That insanely intelligent red horse from yesterday certainly wouldn’t prove that theory wrong.
I lifted myself upright out of the covers and found a curled note wrapped in green ribbon on a small night stand next to me. I gingerly untied the bow and examined the contents.
Sadly, it was either in a foreign language or the handwriting was just that atrocious. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. So, great; I’m in a farm house, in the back end of nowhere, inhabited by people who might as well speak horse. So on top of being immobile, I can’t even communicate? Why doesn’t someone remove my nose while they’re at it!? … I hope the note didn’t say something important actually.
A couple of footsteps interrupted my train of thought as someone was apparently walking down the hallway. He/she was going at a funky pace too. Instead of a dun dun dun dun it was a ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk. Maybe it was two people and their steps were overlapping? I wasn’t sure. There was only one way to find out!
“Hello? Is anyone out there?”
The steps stopped suddenly in the middle of their ka-thunk pattern, as if they had paused in the middle of the tempo. They resumed again, albeit slower and seemingly with more care. A pair of shadows lingered at the door. The knob, it actually looked more like a lever, shifted downward as if the person was relishing every tumbler clicking into place. Every churning gear managed to make a unique noise and frankly it was getting on my nerves.
Before I could say anything, the door creaked as it was timidly swung open. I can say right here, right now that what I saw next was probably the least expected thing ever.
“Oh my god.”
Jaw.
Dropping.
Adorableness.
I’ve seen a lot of cute things on the Internet: cats in fuzzy slippers, bunnies, rabbits, baby kangaroos, sneezing pandas, a monkey give another monkey a hug, and on occasion some kid that doesn’t annoy me and actually shows sign of promise. But what I saw gave me a figurative heart attack. No, this should have given me a heart attack but the universe decided I was going to suck it up.
So, this little yellow pony sticks its head in and looks at me. First, I think it’s a her. Second, the biggest eyes of the most heart wrenching cuteness ever conceived looked right at me. Third, she’s wearing a red bow delicately placed in her mane. A FUCKING BOW! I’m confused as to how I didn’t explode from all of this. It’s the world’s eighth mystery. The fourth I think is where I almost passed out. When she walked in, just… I-I can’t even explain it. She’s so small but so cute I’m just… forget it! Just forget it. She’s too adorable to accurately describe with my available vocabulary.
I must have been making some expressions that terrified her because her eyes got even bigger after that and her lip quivered. That lower lip gave me heart palpitations. I don’t know if I could take much more.
My belly roared, a great long throaty rumble (which did nothing for probably holding a megaphone to itself to let it be known that I was hungry. Stupid stomach, I already know I’m starving, what more do you want from me? The answer was obviously “get some food you dolt” but the problem was I couldn’t exactly reach any right now.
I tossed the covers off of my body, promptly ruining the tremendous job someone had done tucking me in (sorry), and swung my half-legs over to the side of the bed-spread. I noticed I still wasn’t wearing my shirt and it didn’t look to be anywhere nearby. My pants, however, seemed to have been untouched and some of the chlorophyll had rubbed into the white linens.
I could only imagine the horror someone had to go through carrying a half-naked man with stubbed legs into a guest bedroom right after an enormous red horse brought him here in a wheelbarrow.
The yellow adorableness approached me slowly, looking as if it was braving something dangerous. As far as I knew, I wasn’t remotely harmful unless words she couldn’t understand count. I can say some things that I didn’t know were possible. I know the expression goes, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” but that isn’t always true: if words could never hurt me, then why did I cry when someone called me a loser when I was four years old? Words are, it seems-
Anyways, she gingerly approached the mattress and looked straight at me. In actuality, it felt like she looked through me, trying to figure me out it seemed. She gave a small whinny and a grunt or two, sheepishly even (a horse doing something sheepishly… I smell irony). I stared at the young thing with my head cocked sideways. She motioned with a flick of her head to the door like she wanted me to go that way. As cute as it was, I knew I couldn’t do that plan of action. I pointed at my legs with my index. It was her turn to be confused. Oh, right, she probably can’t see them.
With a small amount of effort, I managed to rotate my body so that my legs drooped over the edge. She still didn’t seem to get it. I guess that makes sense in a way. Trying to show a creature that has hooves for feet that I can’t walk because mine are rounded wouldn’t even cross its mind.
I stroked my chin for a moment, wondering how to proceed. I needed a way to explain to this little… uhh what do they call them… colts? Wait no, that’s for guys. Cubs? No, I think that’s bears. Fillies. Fillies, that was it. I needed a way to explain to this little filly that me and moving weren’t the best of friends right now. My elbows were sore so I sure as hell wasn’t crawling again.
Pictures. That’s an idea. Removing the scroll from my pocket I flipped it over and praised that it was completely blank. I looked at the red haired filly and made gestures with my pinkie that I wanted to write something by drawing imaginary lines on the surface. She walked across the room, opened a drawer and removed a maroon quill (with her mouth, eww), closed it and returned to me. The feather was wet with.. ugh, horse slobber; but, it would do. She repeated the action again but this time grabbing a tiny bottle of ink. Damn, she’s smart! Just like the red one!
I loosened the cap and dipped the point in the ink, carefully wiping off the excess on the edge of the opening to not get any on the sheets or myself. To start, I drew the outline of a human figure with two arms and two full legs. It was too pyknic, but all I needed was to get a point across. Over the misshapen figure, I drew an arrow pointing down at its head. I showed my lovely drawing to her and then held it next to my face. With a polite nod from her signaling she understood (she’s a fucking genius I swear. I need to ask if they’ve been genetically mutated), I continued. I drew a line half way through both legs and smudged the bottom half with my thumb. I held it against my face again. I think then she got the point. I stuffed both the letter and the quill into one pocket and the ink container, making absolutely sure the lid was on tight, into another.
The pony left the room without warning, trotting through the still open doorway. I thought she ran away or something (I’m not that ugly, am I?) but she did come back and with something that brought a joyous tear to my eye. A rolling stool. Something that could inhibit free movement!
I hereby proclaim this adorable yellow fluff to be the best pony ever born, scientifically altered or otherwise.
She placed it near the edge of the bed and I more than happily complied by plopping onto it. To put it into a perspective easier to understand, the height of the contraption was somewhat taller than the length of my stubs; obviously, pushing around with those wasn’t going to work and that was almost as upsetting as having no legs at all. To my surprise, she recognized the problem and she started to push from behind. I turned my head around to see how she was doing it and, I must say, I became even more impressed.
She had placed her front hooves on my back which she used for stabilization and introducing a path for forward momentum. She used her hind legs as the force creators, walking forward to push me in the direction that I needed. She would shift the direction as necessary with relative ease thanks to the four wheels being able to rotate a full three hundred and sixty degrees. She moved at a pace that was fast enough to not put too much strain on her back while carefully minding not to push so hard that I went arms and stubs flailing forwards. Since she can’t physically grab onto anything, even if I was wearing my shirt (still, where is that thing?), this was a brilliant system of transportation. And the best part was that I didn’t have to do a thing! I had never lived before I let a pony push me around, strange as it may sound (and/or rhyme). Science, doing it right!
My stomach sent me another impertinent memo that it was still craving sustenance and my rather endearing mode of transportation heard it loud and clear. As we entered into the narrow hallway I took note of all the pictures hanging on the wall. Most had a title or plaque underneath them but they were still in that foreign language. I recognized the red one I met yesterday in a few pictures but there were a lot that were easily distinguishable from him. It could have been the facial expressions, but the main factor was simply the colors of their furs.
Reds, greens, blues, oranges, the-aforementioned-all-together; almost every color in the spectrum were on these equines. And the strange part was that not a single person was in any of the photos, not one. I grabbed one off the wall that was particularly interesting. It had in between twenty to thirty horses, all with a unique coloring scheme and an oddly marked behind that had something to do with apples or food in general. Each one looked as if they were having a good time, odd as it may sound. I think a few of them had a smile.
Then, it all clicked. These were pictures from some kind of freaky animal contest! Of course! That makes perfect sense! Obviously they were having some kind of contest and they had to spray paint their horses for who knows what reason and the different brandings are from different farms! And since all of the photos in this hallway are similar in this regard it must mean that these are from the same convention. Still, I found it strange that the owners didn’t want to get into these photos… maybe there’s another room with them and this one hallway is dedicated just to the horses? Hmmm… I could buy that.
The little one had stopped moving when I grabbed the portrait, though I didn’t notice at first. I kindly replaced it back on the wall and waved at her to continue. We passed by more and more and I found each more intriguing than the previous. I’d have to ask the owners of the place about this meet-up if they knew any English.
The first area we passed when we exited the hallway was the living room. I only had a few moments to give it a precursory glance, but it looked semi-barren too. A couch and some small chairs, one of them was a rocking chair(and not the musical type of rock), took up most of the available visible floor space in the corners while an oval rug absconded the middle. Each piece of furniture had been placed so that the respective person’s view would face another guest which led me to believe these people enjoyed quality time with each other.
A sharp turn right drove us into the kitchen. It was very rustic; I’ll say that much. The refrigerator was visibly aged with scratch marks and glue connecting old handles. The stove was a gas burner, though I’m not sure if that was a recent addition or not. The sink, or perhaps a pump, was near the stove. Wood cabinets lined the walls leaving a small strip of flooring in the middle for navigating space. There were no storage areas above the counter tops except for a small window ledge that jutted outward from the rest of the area.
To my surprise, we didn’t stop there. An open arch way at the end of the aforementioned kitchen revealed a dining table with a plate of assorted apple produce heaped together, presumably for me. There weren’t any chairs nearby, which was… odd, but thankfully that problem had already been solved: I was pushed close to the edge thanks to my handy dandy helper horse and I dug right in. I was delighted to see there were pancakes, cinnamon apple slices, orange juice, and a small cup of syrup. There was also some hay strips that looked cooked but I didn’t indulge myself in those. I handed it over to her(I really should find out what her name is) but she refused to eat it. I suppose she had eaten recently and wasn’t hungry anymore. I began the process of inhaling the food (‘eating’ would really fail to cut the mustard, or syrup in this case).
I couldn’t help but notice her ogling at my hands as I ate, she seemed fascinated by how I could pick up a cup with one and then pick up an apple slice with the other. I know this because she desperately tried to keep track of both during the entire meal that should have lasted me at least ten minutes but which I had callously reduced it to four.
Patting my extended belly with a grin that said, “well done,” I stared at nothing in particular while I let some of it settle. During this relapse, a small belch escaped my lips; entertaining her further. I can’t say I was surprised when she let out an equally loud burp of her own. She’s a genius, what more do I need to say? I noticed that some syrup was coating my thumb and as I was going to lick it off until a funny idea struck me like lightning, minus the extreme pain.
“Hey,” I said aloud to her. She recoiled slightly, not expecting me to speak, and looked up at me. “Watch this.”
I began to lick the syrup-glazed appendage. The syrup was pretty delicious, I’m not going to lie, so I took my sweet time about it. After about ten seconds I observed my work as well as she. I held it down to her eye level just so she could confirm that I had gotten it all. Then, I did something that horrified her:
I ate my thumb.
It’s an old hand trick where the person who performs it pretends to eat their thumb when it goes inside of his/her mouth. I had learned it from my father who learned it from my great grandfather because his son (or my grandfather) didn’t learn it because he was too lazy. Anyways, the thumb is then quickly pulled into the palm and covered up with the other fingers creating the illusion of a flat surface. If done correctly, it seamlessly appears as if that thumb was bit right off; works great on children and apparently it terrifies fillies.
She. Flipped. Out.
A terrified shriek and a near fainting, followed up by frantically running around the table whinnying and grunting who knows what in “horse-speak” ensued. I pretended to be completely serious about ingesting it for a few moments before I broke out in laughter that hurt my rib cage and nearly forced me to fall out of my seat. I’ll admit, it was a rather cruel thing to do, but I think in the long run it was a lesson she’ll look back on for better or for worse.
I lowered my head and found her cowering behind the middle leg support underneath the table. I showed her that my thumb was unharmed and grinned. It took her a few moments more of quivering and hiding before I think she understood it was a joke and came back out, albeit a little more timid than before. Seeing as she was capable of understanding cannibalism and humor, I decided to show her the process of the prank.
I did it in reverse, first hiding it in the fingers and then duplicating the process backwards. Just to clarify for the sake of knowledge, I repeated it a few more times until she found it funny too. Imagine that, a tiny horse laughing. It’s not as cute as it could have sounded, nor was it anything like what I was expecting, but it was just so god damn adorable I had to give her a high five! I’ll assume that this was one of her first tricks taught because she demonstrated she understood the mechanics fairly well. I need not explain the epicness (though I do need to note to myself that hooves are firmer than they appear).
A door swung open from an indeterminable location, the now familiar squeak of unoiled hinges resonating through the house. The ka-thunk pattern returned but these sounded denser and yet with a side of grace to them that was hard to accurately explain. I soon found out what was making the noise.
I turned around in the chair to find a sunset orange pony with a dirty blond yellow mane in a ponytail staring right at me from across the narrow kitchen with raised eyebrows. I returned her surprised glare with a charming smile (or, what I could muster anyways) and a hand wave. Then I realized something.
She’s wearing a hat. Not just any hat… a Stetson. I’ve met a few people with those and it was pretty cool to see something outside of fedoras and baseball caps, but this creature right here? She pulled it off perfectly. Not just perfectly, comically perfectly; so perfect it’s impossible not to clap and laugh at it good-naturedly. Not that I did of course.
The yellow one ran right up to her, excitedly from the looks of it, and flailed her forehooves in the air (an impressive feat considering it meant all her weight was on only a single pair of legs). I could only assume she was saying nice things about me and that this was another super genius horse. However, the taller horse looked upset; the way she flared her nostrils and neighed condescendingly (there’s no way to describe that, it’s something that has to be heard. I regret nothing) proved that either I or my early morning helper had done something wrong.
She pushed past the small one, carefully scooting her to the side, and walked right up to me. The way she went about it though freaked me out slightly. She eased forward by consciously placing every step while refusing to let her sight run astray. She walked formally and kept herself upright, not letting her muzzle drop one inch.
Here, I’d like to assume that the reason why this mare was being overly cautious was a lack of youthful innocence. Kids don’t assume the worse, they immediately see the best in people and they look to be friends. Looking back at it, is that why the yellow one aimed to help me so quickly? Adults know better. They never trust anything or anyone without some ethos to back it up: relations, recommendations, titles, awards, plaques, etc. Somewhere along the line there is a transition between oblivious to observant, from frolicking to fraternizing, from playing to participating.
By the time I was done running my proverbial hamster in my head to death I had found an orange hoof in front of me. Logical conclusion? Shake hands! Another beautiful trick performed by a super horse. Though, this one was aged considerably more, probably almost fully grown, so mayhaps there was an extra level of communication? If that was true, then there was only one thing to do!
I winked at the younger pony as I dipped my thumb in some remaining syrup in the cup. Oh yes, she knew what was going to happen. She snickered (I think?) but managed to keep her cool when the older pony looked back at her. I licked off the gooey substance and then, I TOTALLY ATE IT.
It’s even funnier the second time because I have never seen a horse turn a sickly green color like that. I could only imagine while she was vacating her stomach in the sink about how maniacal we were, the hair-bow pony and I. After about a minute, she stopped gagging and looked right at me with sickly eyes. I wiggled my thumb like it was dancing and gave a warm grin. She looked furious but after seeing it was just a prank I could see her physically lighten up about it.
___
After everything was metaphorically said and done, dishes put away and everything tidied up, we congregated into the living room while I patiently waited for the owners to return from wherever-ville. I had been assisted with sitting on the couch by the orange mare with the red apples on her flank-area and was now watching the younger one (oh how I wish I knew your name) communicate to the elder one. I would have said talk but I don’t think that would have been a very apt description of it. They seemed to get along quite well.
The Stetson pony paced around the room while the hair-bow filly followed her, making grunts and soft calls all the while. If I hadn’t the brighter idea I might have assumed they were actually talking like people. Most of the time it was Stetson saying one thing and then Bow-tie following up with an endless torrent. They kept looking at me through most of it which I found rather odd. I wasn’t entirely sure why they weren’t outside grazing or whatever horses do.
Amidst one of their discussions the filly came up to me and put a hoof on my pocket with the paper and feather in it. I took them out, unsure of what I was being asked to do. She swiped them from my hand and dropped them to the floor. I gave her the ink bottle too as I assumed she’d need it for whatever she had planned. I looked at the orange mare and gave a shrug. She returned it. Mental note: they can copy body language. P.S. these ponies should be put on Jeopardy as contestants because I know they’d win.
Licking up the quill with her tongue (eww), she dipped it into the jar and began drawing something on the mostly-blank side of paper. There is no way I can express the magnitude of the “holy fuck this thing can draw” I felt right there. I can think of one creature that can draw and that would be the elephant; however, they have an unfair advantage with that serpentine nose of theirs. Yet they also don’t draw, it’s more like splattering whatever colors they feel like onto a blank canvas. Nay, she was going steps beyond that and creating a physical, cohesive shape which is beyond amazement.
It took her a couple of seconds but eventually a… stick pony was born. When I say stick I mean the very bare basics. A messy circle for a head with one little line for an ear, a pencil thin neck with an ellipsoidal body followed by a tail that looked akin to fire. I refused to call the rectangles below “legs”. There was a scribble on its flank –area and above it was a big arrow that had a correctly drawn apple at the end. I continued to look over her shoulder and realized it resembled the red stallion from yesterday. A quick addition of a twig coming out of the circle head confirmed my suspicions. So, she wasn’t an artist but her intelligence levels continued to boost rapidly from my perspective.
She continued by drawing a very basic chair with large circles at the sides. After sporting in some spokes and thickening the rims I came to the conclusion it was a wheelchair. Well, that’s a mixed bag of candy for me. First are the sugary sweet gumdrops that say “hey, now you could move freely without the assistance of the super genius.” I won’t lie, that has an awesome flavor to it to be independent again. The only thing more amazing would be to get another shirt on. But in that same collection of goodies is the sour candies. They say “sure, you can move freely, but do you see the cost?” Truth be told? I do see it. It’s a constant reminder of things I don’t know, like how I arrived or why I’m being deprived of my own two legs I was born with.
Everyone seems to forget though that there is a third candy. The candy that doesn’t really taste like anything amazing but it’s hard to deny that it’s not bad. The good news is that it’s possible to eat a lot of this brand before disliking it which makes it bearable. That candy says, “you can forgo that kind of drama without forgetting your purpose. It’s a means of finding what you need and that’s all that matters right now. Wallowing again won’t get you anywhere.”
Yet, they sent a horse… to go pick up a wheelchair? Hmm, or maybe the owner went out on that specific horse and they’re both coming back with it. That makes a lot more sense. Who would send a horse out for medical supplies? That’s ridiculous. A door swung open at the far end of the house, beyond my vision from the couch, and two pairs of tapping could be heard.
They matched perfectly in unison so it had to have been a person! Finally! Human life!
I sat at the edge of my seat while I watched the orange and yellow ponies go greet the guests. They were too far away to hear anything I guess because I didn’t pick up on any of it. To be fair I still wasn’t entirely certain about the outline of this residence. I waited for a minute before making a polite chuffing noise to garner some attention. It worked because three horses I knew came into the living room and took their seats. But, a fourth set of tapping came down the hallway.
Ok, this is it. Calm down and be polite. Even if he/she can’t understand English I imagine that they’ll still want to help. Remember, they sent that red stallion into the field with a wheelbarrow for you.
The floorboards creaked…
Oh wow this person is taking forever. But, hey, don’t rush these things. This person probably has the wheelchair with them and you’ll thank them kindly for it. So, alright, just be cool, collective, and courteous.
The front of the chair rolled through the opening. I hopped over a couple spaces to try and get a better view.
This is it.
A white… hoof became visible on the handle. Then another, and then a white pony with a red mane walked into the room, wearing a nurse’s hat. On her hind quarters a cross with four pink hearts around it was her branding. She wore a gentle smile…
Seriously, what the actual hell? Does everyone in this place own a horse? Do they all send their horses to do menial tasks while sitting on their lazy ass and do whatever? That’s ludicrous, outrageous, stupendously stupid and outright distressing to every fiber of my being. I need to find out what’s up with this place as soon as possible, I’m starting to worry that I’ve gone completely bonkers.
Who sends an animal to deliver a wheelchair anyways? Isn’t that kind of, oh I don’t know, IMPORTANT? If I was a doctor and I was given a request for delivering medical equipment I wouldn’t send just her. Maybe an unpaid intern, but not a horse. If I were to go out on a limb and say that this is another sentient animal I’d still say I’m stretching my own truth. This is going beyond believable.
I mean, she’s acting like she’s never seen a person before. Her jaw dropped like an anvil, her eyes are like the pins of needles and she backtracking a little bit, butt to the floor. I’m honestly surprised her dainty little hat didn’t fall off. I’m glad the apple branded ponies are helping out, well that’s what it looks like anyways, but I don’t know if they’re calming her down any bit. She practically flew into the hallway from whence she came. The red one managed to push her back into the room despite how negligent she appeared to be about it. Geez, it’s like I’m an alien around here.
To finish it off, she’s white. Like blanketed snow! That obviously means that she’s albino and that obviously means the doctor who sent her has a deep wallet. That’s not even mentioning that anything albino is instantly awesome. I’ve seen a few albino creatures in my day: dolphins, squirrels, sharks, and lobsters come to mind. Now I can add horse to my list. Neat.
Well, this pony is my help, I might as well be courteous.
“Heyya,” I greeted the nurse-like pony along with a friendly hand wave. I attempted to grin but after her Oscar worthy performance of freaking out it was difficult to get anything more than an awkward smirk.
Not to be redundant but she flipped out again which wasn’t helping anyone. Maybe she’s skittish? Thankfully, with bouncer-like appeal, the large red pony stopped her dead in her tracks. It reminded me of one of those comedy movies where a guy is running away and then face plants into a buff guy’s chest and then falls onto the ground. He looks up at the towering wall of solid muscle in front of him and says, “holy hell.” Except, this was with brilliant horses.
I whistled into the air to gain some of my lost attention back. They turned their heads directly at me with vigor and uneasy eyes. I pointed at the floor where the scroll and pen were and motioned with my index for someone to bring it to me. Eagerly, the smallest of the bunch brought the necessary items to me.
With my entire amazing artistic prowess I inked the quill, flattened the page against my other hand and began to draw. It was magnificent. Their eyes didn’t miss a stroke of my creativeness as I danced around the page with nimble and fluid lines and arcs that w-
Ok, alright, I’m no artist. I actually managed to conjure up a box with a tiny plus on top in hopes that they’d understand “hospital”. Sue me if I’m not Picasso. Actually, please don’t, I have bills to pay.
Anyways, after I was done scribbling, the scared –to-death nurse managed to approach me, after some encouragement from the others of course, to observe my drawing. I would like to believe she finally calmed down at this point though an invisible barrier still seemed to emanate from her (was it something I said?). I held it up with my hands and thankfully she pointed at her hat and the wheelchair, indicating she understood what I meant. I wasn’t surprised to be honest, it would seem like every pony around here is super smart. No wonder the owners aren’t around, they don’t need outside assistance. At the same time when she approached I noticed her nose visibly retract as if some horrid odor had invaded the inner confines of her nostrils. She couldn’t help but hold a hoof to her muzzle. Did someone pass gas? Wait... was it me? After sniffing my pits I had the same reaction, though I had to gag dramatically for extra effect. Two solid days, not counting today, would probably do that to a guy. I drew another object. A shower.
___
With the assistance of my new rolling chair and the horses, they pointed me towards a small bathroom that was freshly stocked with linens and towels. It was a quaint room with an oval mirror hanging solo on the wall just above a porcelain sink that had cabinets underneath that. There wasn’t a window anywhere and the walls were orange, striped with red, wallpaper. The floor was tiled, clearly defining a change in the room from the wood paneling. Unfortunately the shower that went all the way up to the ceiling had a smell level that prevented me from rolling right into it. The orange one fetched a stool and placed it inside while the red one helped me transition over by using his front legs like a forklift. It was an impressive balancing act by far as he performed it in one swift motion. The landing was a little rough but I couldn’t complain (mostly because they don’t understand English). They checked that I had all the necessary provisions and shut the door behind them. I removed my pants (I won’t go into those kind of details, sheesh), put them on the seat of the wheelchair, drew the curtain and let the water begin the wonderful process of cleansing.
The water was no less than perfect. My definition of perfect would be warm enough to feel as if I were sitting in a hot tub while not hot enough to do any actual scalding. The tricky part was getting the knob, or in this case another lever, at that perfect angle which I managed to accomplish on my first try. I could feel the previous day’s aches and pains (not to mention excess dirt from the crawling) fade away.
The shampoo on the shelves at about my eyesight level were, unsurprisingly, apple scented. I didn’t need the fancy symbols to tell that. The only problem was I couldn’t tell which one was body wash and which one was for hair. They looked pretty identical, both of the mascots had strange colored horses on them (figures), so I took a guess. I took a large glop from one of the containers and began massaging my scalp with it. My hair loosened up from its greasier state and became unknotted so I assumed I gambled correctly. If I had known I was this messy I would have requested this sooner. I leaned into the spray so that more of the foam would rinse down the drain and not cause flaking.
After about ten minutes of scrubbing, I shut off the water and shook my hair, creating a light mist around me. I drew the curtain back and found a red towel and began to brush myself down. Unfortunately my hair had been given the privilege to grow out more than usual so it took a couple of rounds before it was completely dried. I put my pants back on and whistled for some assistance to get back into my new mode of transportation. The stallion came in and assisted me once more. He also looked at my fuzzy hair and motioned his head towards a comb lying on top of the small cabinets. Strangely enough, or perhaps unstrangely enough (so what if it’s not a word, it should be!), this brush didn’t look like it was meant from people. Maybe the owners cheapened out and saved money on hair brushes by using their animal’s? That sounds risky actually because horses could be filled with bugs and dirt and… disease.
Even if they are super horses that doesn’t make them impervious to common ailments; I’m pretty sure Einstein got a cold every now and again. In fact, now that I’m thinking about this a lot of everything around here hasn’t added up. If these ponies are trained then surely there is a trainer who clearly understand the limitations of what these creatures can do and the pros and cons that they provide. And what about the horses acting like people, the thick hairs on the pillow, the horses freely wandering inside of a house, and those pictures? Something isn’t on key here…
Reluctantly, I fumbled with the brush as I questioned the ethics behind combing my hair with it. While it did get the job done… something just wasn’t right about it. When everything was completed I stepped out- err, rolled out into the hallway and back into the living room with the red horse following me. The albino nurse looked like she was ready to head out and definitely calmer than before. Her eyes were enough indication that she was attempting to apologize about before and my waving my hand like “it was no trouble at all, I understand (sort of)” let her off the hook. She handed me my shirt, clean and not dotted with blood and mucus stains, which I happily put back on. Animals may dress in their birthday suits, but I for one was happy to have something over my chest again. I’ll have to thank whoever cleaned this, if I ever find out whom. My follower gave a small whinny and then walked outside through the front door to do whatever it was he did.
I turned around and exited out of the same door where I was confronted with a new challenge: stair steps. Even though there were only two steps that’s a huge distance for someone who can’t mosey down them with relative ease. An image popped into my mind about my tumbling down and landing face first into the loose dirt below wasn’t pretty, along with my wheelchair dropping on top of me and breaking my back.
Before I could contemplate any further about how I was going to approach this task I soon found my vision angled towards the sky. Then moving forward! Holy shit what the-
Looking behind me revealed the nurse using the rear handles to support me while she gently pushed me down one step at a time. I guess my face was contorted into fear because she had to give a reassuring smile. Even though it was from a horse… it worked and I let her do what she needed to do. When we hit ground she put me back into my normal position and continued pushing. Well, that was easier than expected. Anticlimactic too.
I unexpectedly found myself wheeled around and facing the house I was staying in. To my surprise, it was a two story residency with a wide girth which explained the narrow hallways. There were some windows up there but it was too dark inside to see anything. Two story house... I wonder if the people are up there? Back at the entrance the Stetson pony and the workhorse (he was wearing some brown brace around his neck so that’s what led me to that assumption) were standing in the doorway. Out from between the two the young yellow pony burst through and stood in front of me.
“Hey, how can I help you?” I asked, very well knowing she couldn’t understand.
She put a hoof on the wheel. Instantly I understood. I wasn't sure how, but I did. She wanted to tag along and take me to the hospital. That’s very compelling but I don’t think that would be the best idea.
I pointed a finger at her and said the most powerful word in the English language. “No.”
Her lip started to quiver. My god that’s adorable but she can’t come, this is her home.
“No. Seriously, stay here.”
Her eyes began to well up with tears. F-fuck! That’s cute!
“N-No! Stay!”
She plopped her haunch to the ground and drooped her ears down. The heart palpitations returned.
“Pl-please don’t do that! I know you want to come with me but-“
A small, lone tear streaked down her face while she kept up her dramatic pout. God damn it. “Alright, you can join,” I said with a smile.
She instantly put it all away, like it was some kind of mask, and returned to her jovial self. Did I really just get puppy dogged into getting her to tag along!? Yes, I think I did! These horses I tell yah…
With an approving nod from Stetson and Workhorse (not bad names actually…) she began to pace at my side as the nurse, who seemed unmoved by this, pushed forward.
___
Traveling along the dirt road was pretty intense, I’m not going to lie. It was my first time being outside since I woke up in… wherever-this-is -that-wasn’t-obscured-by-trees ville (or wtutwobt-ville for short). There were rolling hills with long tendrils of grass that bent graciously in the wind along with a cloudless sky and an afternoon sun that gave a cheery atmosphere that was hard to not to whistle to. Now, if only I could actually whistle. I found it odd that the atmosphere was clear while winds were prevailing seeing as moisture typically travels with it but I decided to ignore it for the sake of the mood.
The yellow adorable one had kept to the side, easily entertained by my hand gestures. I once let loose a loud clap when a bird was perched on a lone tree and everyone was startled by it. I got a look from both of my traveling companions like I was being a jerk. I gave them a raspberry (the tbbbbbbbbt noise) which cleared my slate.
I did have a question rolling through my head the entire time though: how far away was the hospital? Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving this open field business which is a nice break from the suburbia I live in, but it’d be nice to see another man-made structure.
“Well Ethan, just take it as it is, an adventure.”
I didn’t realize I had said it out loud because they both jumped back, slightly shocked I had spoken. Frankly, I understand. There’s no real reason for me to speak if there’s no one to talk to.
I pointed my thumb at myself and pronounced my name to the yellow filly. “E-than.”
It tried to get its mouth to form the correct vowels, but it mostly came out as “eeeeeeibuuuurgh”. It sounded almost like a question so I pursued the matter.
“No. Eeeeee-thhhhhhh-aaaaaaaan.”
“Eeeeee?”
“Yes. Eeeeeee-thhhhhhhh-“
“thhhhhhh-”
“Almost there!” Wow, if I haven’t said it already, these ponies are just awesome!
“thhhh buuuurgh.”
I shook my head in mild disappointment. I rubbed her little mane and patted her head. “It’s all right, it was a good try.” She didn’t know what I was saying but she did stop trying. Well, out loud for the most part.
After another ten minutes of traveling I decided to give my helper a break and push for myself. She seemed to be ok with it. Operating both wheels at the same time took a few tries to get used to, applying an equal amount of force at the same time with both arms isn’t as easy as it appeared, and turning wasn’t too fancy either. Most of the time I took too sharp of a rotation and botched my balance and almost sent me capsizing on land. They weren’t my proudest moments but I managed to get the hang of it.
Of course, the nurse found it entertaining that I couldn’t navigate well and let out a snort/chuckle. I understand I looked foolish but give me a break, it’s my first time using one of these! She knew it too. Maybe that’s why she was mocking my distress? Nobody mocks Ethan or makes Ethan speak in the third degree! ETHAN SMASH!
Unannounced, I bolted down the path as fast as my arms could push me leaving a visible dust trail behind me. Two barely visible ruts of dirt formed in my wake. Stunned, the two stood silently before realizing, “holy shit, he’s getting away!” I shouldn’t have been surprised when they galloped ahead of me, forcing me to use the brakes on the sides, but there I was... surprised. Response time: incredible. Acceleration: pretty fast. Is this like rock beating scissors: yes. The nurse was visibly pissed, which I didn’t even know was possible for a pony, but little miss yellow seemed to be just the opposite. She snarled something and forcibly took control over the driving again. Geez, don’t get your… hat in a knot (if only you wore pants).
A few minutes later (times like these I wish I had a watch) something popped up over the horizon. Was it!? Could it!? Yes! It was! It was a pointy roof top! And then, and then another one! Math time!
Roof tops= buildings. Proof of truth: roofs are on top of structures as to prevent water or foreign objects from entering above.
Buildings= people. Proof of truth: buildings don’t come into existence naturally. The root of building is “build” which mean someone created it. Else-wise they’d be naturals.
People= more than just one human and the possibility that someone speaks English increases exponentially. Proof of truth: is in the pudding.
So, by assuming that all of the above statements are true, one can infer with confidence that rooftops= people (or in this case, civilization of peoples which would still be correct). The exception to this would be if the native inhabitants had all deceased and the roofs were a remnant of the culture but that’s not pertinent to the case. They look well maintained and that’s all I need to know.
As more and more structures came into existence a stone pathway emerged. I delegated pushing to myself seeing as it would be a lot easier to navigate on stone than dirt. I could tell the nurse was keeping a close eye on me but I don’t think I wanted to upset her more than I already had. She could tell, however, that I was getting excited and decided to trot ahead. I kept with her pace as well as keep sight of the yellow filly.
We gained more ground, the walls of houses could be seen. Tall and lean houses with more than one story!
This is it!
A large wooden entrance showed up. It had foreign letters on it much like the letter but that only confirmed that this was a town! A place!
Needless to add, I was eager.
I zoomed through the parabolic arch, letting my hands fly free and letting momentum carry me. A shadow drifted in front of me. It wasn’t comparable to a cloud shadow either, the form was way too defined. It looked like it had wings but with a horse’s body. But, that could only mean-
I dared to look up. A silhouette of… of a PEGASUS was above me! A FUCKING! WHAT!?
My eyes darted down and saw another shocking thing. I hit the brakes and scooted to a stop. Eagerness gone and freak out mode engaged.
“A- a unicorn!?”
There was no mistaking it; a white horse with a purple mane had a horn on its head. A HORN! And what’s worse is that it didn’t look fake! In fact, as I panned my vision towards the rest of the town I saw only more of the same thing! Ponies of impossible colors, unicorns and whatever the plural of pegasus is, and more outrageous brandings all with unique color schemes and designs!
“No… no! Where are all the people!” I yelled at it in a confused rage. It ran away screaming in terror and the others followed.
I clasped my hands to my head and clenched at my hair. What the hell was going on!? Is this it!? Have I finally lost it!? My grandmother always knew I’d go completely insane but this was phenomenal!
Apparently my conscious decided that I couldn’t handle this right now so it put me to sleep. The last thing I remember was the ground coming dangerously close to my face.
Thud.
___
“Ugh, my aching…” I pressed my palm to my forehead and was surprised to discover I wasn’t touching skin, but a bandage. I rolled over and found sheets rubbing against my skin. Wait, that meant-
I opened my eyes with vigor to discover I was in the same room as I woke up in last time. The clock was clicking louder than normal, each perfectly timed tick distressing an already hefty headache. There was a sliver of grey light pushing its way through the panel of glass. It was night time, obviously. I propped myself up, causing a massive blood flow to my head which didn’t help at all. I rubbed my eyes and lazily yawned. Though it was difficult to see, I could make out a candle in a cup… thing that had a match next to it sitting on top of my chair.
I grabbed the light source and ignited it. The brightening of the room revealed the yellow pony sleeping silently at the other edge of the bed with a blanket draped over her. Her back was to me so the light wasn’t getting into her eyes, thankfully. I’d hate to wake her up.
The light also showed me a clipboard with some charts in it along with another scroll with a green ribbon on it. I picked up the charts and put the candle on a night stand that had been placed next to the chair. The papers were in that confounded other language but from all of the green highlighting everywhere at the bottom of each page I could tell my signs were good. Only one graph was highlighted in yellow which was the anatomy page. An arrow was pointing to the back of a horse’s body which had a large X though it in black ink. Seeing as it wasn’t a human body told me that I must be an unusual case.
So… I guess that means I’m in a town of a bunch of ponies… Is that even plausible? Can that actually be true?
I unraveled the scroll and found a short picture story in front of me.
From what I could tell there was a stick figure me in a shoddily drawn chair with mismatched wheel sizes. It showed me with my hands (err, someone drew them as hooves with sticks on them... nice) on my head and falling onto the ground. Two Xs were over my eyes along with a few symbols drifting above. I could only assume those could be equivocated to the letter z. In the next scene there was the nurse picking me up with an arrow in front of her pointing at a hospital.
Next there was the yellow pony and the nurse waiting outside of a room where they examined me. It looks like they’re really worried. I’m on a stretcher with a bunch of ponies circling around me, all with horns on their heads. I guessed I wasn’t hallucinating when I saw that unicorn or the pegasus.
The next frame had me sleeping in a wheelchair as I was pushed back to the farm. There were angry faces coming out of the hospital. I guess they didn’t want anything to do with me. Harsh. Workhorse and Stetson were there at the farm house. I can’t tell from the symbols but it looked like they were allowing me to stay. They looked concerned too.
I guess that means I’m living here right now. I’ll need to find a way to repay these… horses.
In the last frame were three unknown characters. Two of them were unicorns though one was arguably larger with a… sparkle or something on its butt. The other was a tiny pegasus. I didn’t know what that meant… maybe it was a random scribble. Oddly enough, the two smaller drawings didn’t have any markings on their backs.
I rolled the parchment back up and set it aside on the table. The blankets shuffled slightly and a muffled yawn came out from under. The crumpling of the paper must have abridged her sleep. She lifted her head up and swiveled her head to face mine. There were streaks of small tears, real ones, damp on her face. It looks like I really scared her yesterday or today (depending on the time).
She crawled towards me, letting the blanket droop lazily off her body and nuzzled my face. I hugged her and let out a sniffle or two. It’s not that I was a pansy, really I’m not, but finding out that I’m in a town filled with ponies with practically no chance of communication on top of having my legs removed was a burden, a burden that I’m not sure I could carry.
But now more than ever, I wanted some answers. I want to know why I’m here, why I’ve been, ugh, amputated and why there is a place like this.
For now, though, I embraced the young pony and cried into her coat. I’ll admit it, I cried. She hugged me back. She was more than just an animal; I see that now. I just want to know why. Eventually, I blew out the candle and rested my head back onto the pillow. That night, I slept somberly.
Life is like lemonade, sugar can be added to it and it gets sweeter. If acid is added, it’ll likely end up being death-in-a-cup. Though, I suppose that’s true with any drink. Actually, if acid was added to anything I’d imagine it wouldn’t be good. Today, I was feeling that life was on the slightly acidic side but still somewhat safe to ingest. It had some zest to it.
The morning started off with a kick just as the previous had. I found myself awake in the bed listening to the pitter patter of foot- err, hoofsteps, I guess. I refused to open my eyes even though I had regained consciousness. They paced down the hall, doing whatever it was horses do to freshen up in the morning. I lied there, motionless, unsure about whether or not I really wanted to confront reality just yet.
Human-like animals? Was that really even possible? I know yesterday that I confronted the impossible and I know that they’re more than just four legged lame horses, but part of me just doesn’t accept that. It’s against everything I know about them. At first I thought they were immensely intelligent, but now… The evidence is in front of me, as obvious as a brick wall in the middle of a street, and I should accept that for what it is… but why can’t I?
Ethan, if you keep thinking like this you’re going to hurt yourself. That’s why you have bandages on your head. I know self, but don’t you think that there’s something not right here?
Everything isn’t right here you idiot. That’s the point.
What?
What’s the definition of sanity, Ethan?
Stuff that’s normal?
You’re half right. Sanity is defined only by what is known as insane. Do you remember the Mayans? They would sacrifice people and it wasn’t considered insane; yet, if you sacrificed someone today the police would be at your front door step within minutes. Think about everything that’s happened so far. You met an intelligent red stallion, he took you to his house, they gave you food, shelter, hygiene, and hospital assistance. Speaking of, the chart had horse anatomy. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?
What’s your- err, my point?
You’re the insane part right now. If this internal monologue about talking to yourself isn’t a huge fucking hint then I don’t know what is.
Holy shit, you’re right!
Of course I’m right! I’m you! Now, wake the hell up and try and perceive the world differently today. Assume that whatever happens is right and I promise you it’ll get easier. Also, you’ll stop talking to yourself, it would be a lovely bonus for your sanity.
Heeding my own advice, I yawned a vigorous yawn and stretched out my arms to an empty bedspread which lead me to believe that the yellow pony had left sometime last night. Without much forethought, I let my eyes view the first glimpse of morning.
Instead, I got paper.
Yellow, rolled-up, bound in ribbon (how much ribbon is around this place anyways?), papery goodness. I’ve found more ways to annoy people out of sleep in half a week here than in my own home.
My hand worked its way up to my face and gently grabbed the vision-obstructing scroll. I soon found the same room I had been bunking in once again filled with the early morning rays of sunshine, the wheelchair from yesterday, and an angry looking Stetson pony in the middle of the room, completely statuesque in appearance except instead of invoking beauty she implied pain and fear. Mostly pain.
She flared her nostrils at me and a visible puff of air flew out. I made immediate eye contact with her, fearing her animalistic side, and tried to locate the source of the problem. I looked down at the other end of the bed and found the issue immediately. Hair-bow, the yellow filly, was sleeping on the ends of my leg nubs. She had the same tear stained eyes as last night. I wasn’t sure of the exact relationship between the two but Stetson was definitely related if she was standing up for her. I gulped because I knew what was coming:
A) A rampaging charge. B) A kick to the face! C) No! Wait! Maybe that crazy mare is going to take my chair and then drop me off outside, leaving me to crawl away from the fields! D) All of the above!
No, you moron, they’re not animals, remember? Well, ok, they are animals, but they’re not animal animals. Try and act human around them.
Following my astoundingly vocal conscious, I put my hands in the air as high as they could go in surrender. It got me a raised eyebrow which was, by all means, progress. She approached me, nearing no closer than the very edge of the bed, and put a lone hoof on my chest. With a scowl (I didn’t know they could physically do that…) she looked at her then back at me. She took her hoof off my body and dragged it down her cheek.
She stared at me, straight in the eyes, and remained silent. She wasn’t entirely angry. I think she was just concerned to the point of anger. The expression, “your eyes tell all” has never been clearer. I… worried them, especially the youngest one. Message received, “do not hurt Hair-bow ever again or fear my wrath.”
She nuzzled Hair-bow softly on her head. With weary, red eyes, she stirred almost half asleep and clambered on to the orange pony’s back. Stetson gave me one last glance and then walked out of the room. I waited, listening to the clambering of steps going up some stairs. I heard the shuffling of some blankets, the creak of a wooden frame, and then a door close as softly as it could. She then retreated back downstairs, not bothering to enter my room.
I clenched my fists and heard a faint crumpling noise.
Right, the scroll.
I undid the fastenings and unraveled the paper finding yet another picture story. It had been separated into four boxes with depictions of ponies and some other various objects that I wasn’t too sure about. Interestingly enough, only one symbol managed to stay consistent. It was a parabolic shape, much like a hoof, but each box had a different number of them in the top left corner. I suppose this was their counting system? Hooves?
Ok, right. That’s completely normal around here. Accept that for what it is and move on.
First box: A scraggly stick figure looking thing putting on clothes and getting some food. That was easy to decipher considering the shirt-ish shape and the pants-like box. The breakfast part was slightly more difficult to comprehend but after I figured out that the circle with dots on it was a plate with food it made sense.
Second box: Next was a picture of a house (I assume the farm?) along with three ponies outside of it. Wait just a second… I remembered about the scroll I had received last night, the one I had left on the table, and picked it up. Sure enough, three ponies that looked eerily similar to these were on there. The large one even had the same sparkle something-or-another on its butt and the two smaller ones didn’t have any kind of branding either. Two still were unicorns and one had wings so to say it was merely a coincidence would have been idiotic.
So, these three were coming today? Hmm, I won’t know until later.
Third box: A… tree(?) and a lot of cubes. I have absolutely no idea what the hell that means.
Fourth box: the farm house again and me in a wheelchair.
Well, I guess I know what the first half of the day is going to be like but I have no clue as to what’s going to happen later. As unfun (not a word but I’m using it anyways) as not knowing things is, it’ll have to do. But first, some food and a shower.
___
Now that I’m thinking about it, life is actually more like spray paint on a brick wall. If it dries then it stays there practically forever, the only thing removing it naturally is time. However, more can always be added to the wall. But what happens when there is no open space? Previous markings have to be covered, of course. Then, more has to be added and eventually there’s a second layer that completely blocks the first designs added. It’s ok, those weren’t that good anyways, and the newer ones are much nicer and cleaner. Actions and memories are refined and the craftsmanship is more presentable.
People can also leave their own marks on others’ walls. They typically take priority over lesser paintings so they tend to stay longer. The only problem is when scarring experiences occur. They’re frightening and take a whole lot of scrubbing to remove. And what’s worse, those are on top of those other layers so if needs to be removed, everything else beneath it suffers.
My mental wall’s a little messy right now with a lot of uncertainties that are covering some other important things too. Those uncertainties just so happen to be shaped like horses and wheelchairs and a truck-load of question marks; thankfully, those haven’t dried yet. One particular painting was still standing, almost untouched. My apartment.
As I drank a sip of orange juice at the dining table my thoughts kept leading back too it. It’s been a few days since I last saw it, I hope nothing has happened to it. If not, something will. Shit happens around that complex. And what about my brother? I hope he hasn’t called for a search party considering he calls the place every day and I always pick up the phone seeing as he’s the only family I have left. I wouldn’t be surprised when I got back if there was a giant stack of paperwork waiting for me because of a murder investigation or a kidnapping had taken place.
There was someone else too, a new neighbor had moved in and we hit it off alright… but I forget her name. That’s going to be an awkward reunion.
“Welcome back!” she imaginarily said as I pretended to arrive back home.
“Oh heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey… how are yah?”
“…you forgot my name, didn’t you?”
“Fuck.”
Yeah, that’s how it’ll happen.
Before I could continue any farther in my make-believe reunions, something interrupted me with a gentle tap on my shoulder. With a slice of charred toast in my mouth I turned around to meet the unknown visitor and found Workhorse behind me, wearing his unusually usual stoic expression with a stick of wheat still protruding from his mouth. He didn’t say anything, for obvious reasons, but he did gently motion with his head to come down the hallway. I assumed it was to prepare for the shower.
Honestly, it wasn’t going to help that much. A body can be cleansed but if the same attire is constantly put over it constantly then an irremovable stench begins to accumulate. Unfortunately, I don’t think getting new clothes is an option; I haven’t seen anything remotely human in a fashion sense outside of the hat and hair clip.
I returned to gobbling down breakfast. He was patient as I munched down on the last bit of toast and waffles. There was some more cooked hay stuff but I don’t know what’s up with that. I mean, yeah, horses eat hay but I certainly don’t. It’s like wasting food. My father would have thrown a riot if he saw me wasting something, even if it wasn’t in the human diet. Well, he probably would have gotten a heart attack from intelligent horses… but I digress.
I rolled out from the table, put my dish in the sink (and washed it) and headed off with Workhorse who would, like yesterday, assist me.
___
“Ow! Hot hot hot h-hot!”
I nudged the lever over slightly to the left.
“Gah! Cold cold cold cold c-cold!”
Using my honed skills in the art of adjusting shower temperatures, I pushed the handle to the right exactly one half of one fourth of one eighth of an inch with so much precision it’d make an electron microscope look like a cellphone camera. The result was adequate enough, not scalding but definitely not bone chilling, and I finally managed to sit on the stool and begin bathing regularly. The good news was it only took five minutes to finally get it there.
Releasing pent up stress I didn’t know I was accumulating with a hefty sigh I grabbed the shampoo from yesterday and washed myself down. I scratched my head as the product moisturized my scalp and the bandages- Wait! Damn it! The bandages! Don’t those normally come off when they come into contact with water or something!? How did Workhorse and I miss that? I need to unravel these-
My fingertip felt something peculiar at that moment, interrupting the haywire train of thought. It was the polar opposite of what should be felt in a shower. Dryness. The paper wasn’t affected at all, even after dousing it. I checked the entire wrapping and was met with the same results. I was amazed.
I cupped my hands in the controlled downpour and released a small pool above my head. Astoundingly, the bandages kept tight.
Not feeling up to wasting more time than I already had, I finished with the rudimentary procedures for cleaning up and shut off the flow of water. I whistled for assistance.
…
I signaled again for help.
…
Seriously? Nothing?
Feeling frustrated (and sopping wet) I dragged the shower curtain to one side of the wall and reached for a towel to clean myself off. Unbeknownst to me, there wasn’t a replacement from the one used yesterday.
“Damn it,” I groaned out loud, “looks like I gotta go find one.”
The clothes on my seat would probably have sufficed, but then I would have been wearing uncomfortable clothes all day, an irritation I would like to avoid if I could help it. But, I still couldn’t go out there in my birthday suit… those ponies may go around naked but it doesn’t mean I have to.
Leaning over, carefully minding not to topple the stool, I tossed the clothes onto the sink countertop. Now the more important task was at hand… the transportation of me.
Well, this wouldn’t be such a problem if I still had my feet but… yeah. Ok, you need to plan this carefully, Ethan. Taking one last reassurance yell making sure I wasn’t completely alone, but as it turns out that for some reason I was, I began the arduous process of… thought.
Ok, so, I’m sitting on a stool in the middle of a shower. There’s a small wall in between me and the wheelchair. It’s at the midpoint between the two objects. I can reach the chair and maneuver it on the floor however I choose but I lack the strength and torque to lift it over. Options:
- I could position the stool to where… No I can’t do that, I’d slip.
-I could try and rest my body against the… shit no, if I mess that up I might accidentally get stuck in a very awkward position. -What if I rolled up the chair and… wait, I’m not a ninja.
God damn it, why does this have to be more difficult than it should be? Why can’t I just pull the chair as close as possible, lock the breaks in place, turn around in my stool, fall backwards and catch myself in the cushion!?
Oh.
___
Thunk!
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Ow my aching everything!”
Well, that went absolutely brilliant. Now you’re on the floor, your chair is toppled over, and your hand is stuck in the wall; you wanna know something, Self? You’re an idiot. You should have waited.
Not wanting to scold myself anymore, the impending bruises and developing headache could take care of that, I stared at the door. Either through dumb luck or my epic skills, I had landed stomach-up.
Seriously, how could they not have heard that? The yelling, the crashing on the floor… what the hell is going on out there?
A creak from the upstairs…
“Hey! Heeeeeeeey!” I called out, hoping to gain any attention possible.
A pair of hoofsteps went down the stairs and then I realized something. Something horrible. Something that could scar me for life.
Hair-Bow might be the only one in the house…
She was put in her bed earlier…
And I’m naked.
She’s a child.
And… I’m naked.
“Hair-Bow! Don’t come in!” I angrily demanded as the impeding steps continued down the stairs.
It didn’t seem to help much, I could hear the rhythm continue. The nearest source of coverage was in the sink and it certainly wasn’t going to come crawling to me.
I jerked myself forward but fell drastically short due to the hand that had imbedded itself in the drywall.
“Shit!”
No matter how much I pulled back, my hand had somehow gotten stuck in there and it wasn’t going to release itself through contemporary measures. This didn’t aid the fact that a young filly was practically a few feet down the hallway by now.
“Don’t come in!”
The hoofsteps continued.
They were at the door a moment later. I could see the shadows impeding the small bar of light at the bottom of the frame. With one last fateful tug on my arm, I realized my future was doomed.
The lever turned, the tumblers creaked, the hinges squeaked, and then the doorbell rang.
The doorbell rang!
Thank you!
Hair-bow, or who I assumed it was, trotted down the hallway to go greet the guest. I got another good look at the wall to find what the problem was. I tore out a small chunk of drywall and found that my hand was holding onto a pipe. I had tensed up so much that it had forcibly grabbed the tube and it wouldn’t let go. Feeling like an idiot, I let go and released myself. Using my available strength, I crawled towards the sink, which wasn’t a fun experience on my elbows, got the clothes, awkwardly managed to dress myself, and then lied on the floor.
Well Ethan, if you had just dried yourself off with the clothes this wouldn’t have happened. Or, it would have been less stressful in any case. You have a real habit for tripping yourself up, huh?
The entrance to the bathroom gently swung open and revealed a pony I hadn’t had the opportunity to meet before. It looked feminine, purple (oooookaaaaaay... strange), and had a unicorn horn.
A horn huh? I always wondered what the whole point of the horn was, it’s not like those are violent creatures. Well, neither are rhinos unless provoked… maybe it’s an art of self-defense? I’m not sure, something about a stampede of unicorns just doesn’t sound as intimidating as a stampede of rhinos.
Wow, I just said unicorn like it was no problem. I’m either in shock or losing it. Probably a cruel combination of both. Aforementioned unicorn, on the other hand, was standing there rather perplexed. I’m sure I wasn’t a magnificent sight to behold, I wasn’t ugly at least, but I think this would have made anyone do a double take. I know I was, I’d never seen a purple mammal before.
Seconds later, after a delightfully awkward unintentional stare-off, my littlest companion walked next to her and gasped at the scene.
“Eeighburgh!” she whinnied, dismayed at my unfortunate circumstance. Small as she might be, she pushed the chair back up to its proper standing and managed to prop me up using only her noggin. I ruffled her mane a bit in thanks, only after observing her mopey face, and looked back at the new comer.
Hair-bow neighed something to her, there was an “eeeighburgh” somewhere in there, and then the purple one decided to walk up to me and BREAK THE FUCKING LAWS OF PHYSICS.
There I was, lying on the floor like a good man and then all of a sudden her horn starts glowing and I levitated. Just, up. Up. No rope, pullies, hooves/hands, just… up.
Up!
What the hell!?
My body was enveloped in that now apparently evil unicorn’s aura, FLOATING, and she set me in the chair before I could even voice my concerns. I was about to scream bloody murder but the filly was beginning to look desperately concerned again which meant it was time to chillax. Bow, how does one chill when physics was just eradicated from existence!? So, instead of trying to make sense of anything like a sensible person, I left my mouth agape in awe.
The reality shatterer stood there, unsure of what to do as I was unsure of up and down. That’s what I assumed, based on the silence and all. I mirrored her, not moving a muscle.
There was a clicking noise and suddenly a light pink bow was on the floor. The original wearer of the accessory nudged the anti-science pony on her hind leg and pointed at it. The manifestation of purple evil performed her witchcraft once again and levitated it up to my eye level.
With a huff, the yellow pony ordered a new command. It… transformed! Not just like it contorted into a different shape, but it physically changed into a rather swanky top-hat. Then it was put on my head, still damp, and they both smiled at me like, “See? No problem.”
As a child and through my adolescent life, I had never believed in magic. There was this one chick, Tessa, who was a firm believer in the practice and would always explain things so it made sense to her. When I confronted her about it, she said, “Magic is like life, it only gets more complex the more you look at the bigger picture.” For some reason, I felt compelled to ask her out after our brief conversation. She said it was magic that I did. I suppose it was true… her rack certainly was magical.
But to say that I was a believer… I believe she must have been on to something.
I shut my mouth as the realization set upon me. I told myself earlier that I needed to accept things for the way they were and this is exactly what I need. Also, not getting mauled by Stetson for upsetting her relative would be great too. Gingerly removing the hat and setting it on the filly’s head, I grinned at… Tessa, the purple pony, and shook her hoof. Politely, she brought out a towel for my dripping hair and mopped the puddle that formed on the floor. Using her super powers, no longer branded evil by the official brain of Ethan, she mended the hole in the wall to the point where it looked as if nothing had transpired here. I dried myself off as quickly as possible and set the towel on a hook for later. We three made our way into the living room where I met two little ponies, much like the descriptions on the scrolls, who both turned out to be my youngest companion’s friends.
I was introduced, a few more lines were said (I guess) and they both giggled at something. They started to circle me, inspecting my human shape and my hands, mostly hands, before I saw Hair-bow winking and gnawing at her left h-
Oh.
I clapped, instantly gaining attention. I pointed at a generalized area on the carpet and the guests paced to it, intrigued. My junior prankster fetched a cup of syrup to which she delivered to me. The living room audience cocked their heads sideways. “Behold,” I spoke, well aware they couldn’t understand any of my dialogue. Eh, I’m a little bit of an attention whore that way. “Feast your eyes on this thumb,” I said while panning my left hand to them, “as I will accomplish the impossible.”
I commenced the dipping of the thumb. Their interest increased.
I licked it.
Then, as was tradition, I ate it.
___
After another fiasco of frightened fillies and upchucking unicorns (how’s that magic for you, Tessa?) and a follow-up explanation using Pictionary, we all had a good but awkward laugh about it. I found it to be an appropriate source of vengeance for not warning me she was going to use magicky stiff. Seriously, levitation and transforming? I wonder what else she can do. And to think, I once thought unicorns were stupid. They’re awesome!
Stetson and Workhorse still were no place to be found which is… odd. Maybe there was an emergency to attend to? They probably didn’t expect I’d fall in the shower. I know I wasn’t planning it. Despite this, they’re going to get a lecture from me even if they can’t understand one word of it.
When everything was said, or perhaps unsaid to me, and done, I received an ushering signal from Hair-Bow to go outside with them. I did find it strange that I was suddenly putting in so much trust into a mere child but she seemed as if she knew what she was doing which is a one hell of a step up from my cluelessness. That, and I figured I owed her one so I obliged without any fuss.
One treacherous climb down the front stairs later and we were back outside. If I had to guess, it was a partly cloudy day with a fifteen percent chance of showers with rising winds coming from the northeast at approximately two miles per hour. But, that was just a guess, I’m not a meteorologist nor do I ever plan to become one.
From step, or in my case “rotation”, one, the group around me just wouldn’t shut up. The orange punk looking filly kept jumping up and fluttering her wings for a moment before landing again while her mouth was probably asking more than what was allowed in a game of twenty questions. The white unicorn was doing, more or less, the same thing but with more composure. About as much composure as an excited child can get.
Funnily enough, I did hear the one word I understood from their equine language. Little Hair Bow kept saying “Eeeighburgh,” as if defending me or answering questions for me. Hey, if I had a new comer in town that couldn’t speak… horse, I suppose I’d ask a plethora of questions too.
Tessa kept eyeing me from the side, either to see if I could keep up or for some other reason unbeknownst to me, but keeping barely ahead of the pack. I myself couldn’t help but glance at her own curious branding. It looked like a firework in all seriousness.
Hold it, brain click.
Stetson and Workhorse had apple markings and they both lived in a house at an apple farm. So if Tessa has a firework… she must live near a fireworks depo! And the little ones must not have a mark… because they’re too young for it, perhaps? I know I sure as hell wouldn’t want someone to brand me at that age.
“Eeeighburgh,” my somewhat-assistant announced while looking my way.
“Yes?” I replied only for the sake that she knew I heard her. It’s not like I could talk to them anyways.
“Eeeeeth…Eeeethhhhhburgh.” She was straining her tongue to force out a vowel that just wouldn’t arrive after the “thhhhh” noise. My guess was that she still couldn’t yet pronounce my name.
“Ethan,” I affirmed. “No burgh about it.”
As the phrase went, monkey see monkey do, they all tried their hand, erhm… hoof(?) at pronouncing it. They all failed at the same spot, some arriving quicker than others, but it was obvious that they were getting nowhere and fast.
The one place we were actually getting to came back into view. I’d have to take a guess and say it was the rooftops coming into view again. As soon as I saw them I put myself in park, a phrase I thought I’d never say in my life, idly wondering if going back through this place was such a good idea. The last attempt ended with me being sent to the hospital and having bandages wrapped around my head along with causing minor strokes of panic through an equine crowd. I kind of wish I knew more about this medical stuff right about now so I could properly treat myself.
Tessa seemed to notice my concern, or maybe even share it. It was entirely possible that Hair-bow shared my terrific tale of freaking out, but to say I knew for sure would have been a lie. She paused, keeping an encouraging grin, and seemed patient to wait until I was r-
BLAM!
Pink. Deadly amounts of pink from every color of the pink-spectrum. Dark, light, middle, and just plain pink came across my vision at a blur with an insane amount of force. I was tossed from my chair, somehow the buckle had come undone, and found myself rotating aimlessly in an almost ninety degree climb. Before I had even realized what was going on, I was at the apex of the arc and was soon about to plummet to the ground which looked far enough to cause some serious damage even if I did have feet to land on. Cue the blood curdling screams.
I think I passed out for a second because the very next moment, I found myself landing squarely on a plush white saddle and staring into a mane that was probably cotton candy. What’s even worse, this one was bouncing like a fucking maniac. From my perspective, there was absolutely no rhyme or reason as to what just happened. I’m not at a loss for words; I’m at a loss for everything.
My purple travel guide made sure to clarify, once my head stopped spinning, that this was not part of the plan. The furrowed brow with an unamused frown clearly spoke that she knew exactly who this was and she was displeased with the current actions.
So, I think they had an argument about it. There were some leg gestures that often pointed at my own transportation mechanism, a large variety of horse speak, and even a bit of the pink devil standing on her two back legs and crossing her arms which I knew was entirely unnatural. I sometimes wish I knew what they were saying, or at least thinking. I don’t appreciate being blindly led like this.
I tapped on the pink shoulder in front of me and was met almost instantaneously with a apoplectically wide grin. Her mouth ran like a motor boat trying to spew out every word (in horseinese), causing a shower of spit to run of my face. I had to hold a hand up. It probably wouldn’t be this way if her face wasn’t so close to mine… Poor hand, I’ll be sure to give you a wonderful soap and water scrub later.
My fingered appendage decided it would be better to stop the problem at the source and shut her up instead. As was to be expected, the fuzz ball wouldn’t quit it even after I closed it. I looked at the three fillies with my eyes begging for assistance. They shrugged. Simple as that, like, “There’s nothing we can really do.”
After seeing Tessa’s rather neutral expression, it led me to believe the same sentiments were true.
Fine, be that way. After today, I’m planning a way out of this crazy town… once I find a map and a decent method of transport, not to mention food, water, shelter. Not being able to communicate might put a damper on things and- ok, you win this round. I’ll just stay here and they’re going to like it.
As I returned my attention back to the civilization in front of me, my stomach began to fill with butterflies as if a giant migration had swooped in for a visit. I mean, at least this time I knew what to expect. Well, I knew to expect the unexpected. I kind of wish I had a metaphor for this situation.
“Well, Ethan, it’s time to man up and take a plunge back into this strange town,” I encouraged myself out loud.
___
Being observed by animals as opposed to the opposite way is awkward on both ends of either party. It’s like I was wearing a disco ball for a head and wearing a neon sign around my neck that was flashing “look at me!” in consistent intervals. The bemused faces, the hooves to their faces to cover their mouth (good news for you, I have no idea what you’re saying), and the occasional appearance of terror or grimace from them wasn’t pleasant in the slightest. Like adding lemon juice to an open wound, none of them talked or moved either until I was a safe distance away.
Even through all of that, my suddenly acquired tour guide was hopping along like nothing was amiss, even supposedly saying hi to a few. It was… interesting. I tried to communicate my concern about how aggravating it was to keep balance as she traveled onward, but it really didn’t go that well. In all honesty, it failed tremendously. We probably looked like a comic duo, a smiling happy pink thing and a frowning arm-crossed human. I wonder if that would make for a good sitcom…
Along the way, I did find out what the tree and cube picture really meant. Along with the normal appearing buildings there were also a select few that stood out from the crowd: A bakery covered with sweets, a design studio, and of course the house built into a tree. From one of the windows, before entering, I saw some bookshelves that were packed to the brim with texts of various widths. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. Of each of the four levels, the book size slimmed down from top to bottom with the bottom being no bigger than a weekly magazine.
Tessa held open the door for everyone to enter. Before we went through, I looked over my shoulder to still see the local… citizens (I think that’s correct), continuing their onslaught of unnerving glares. Not wanting to make a situation more awkward than need be, I decided to wave indiscriminately at the crowd. I managed to get one return from a small colt who seemed eager to return the greeting, but his mother forcibly put his hoof to the ground. My guide walked through the entrance and then the door gently closed behind us with a faint purple aura.
“Well, that wasn’t pleasant.”
But, there wasn’t any time for such wallowing as an air-light book was dropped into my lap, snapping me out of my momentary depression. I looked at the cover and it had a smiling sun with a crayon textured, impossibly colored school house with horribly drawn ponies, I think they’re ponies, and then back at my deliverer who happened to be the white coat filly. Her two companions also had one of similar design and Tessa was working on pulling more out from the collection, mostly bottom shelf. They piled on more and more of these with varying themes, based on cover design, until the stack was half way to my neck.
I picked up the top one, having a picture of a common kitchen set-up, and opened it. The very first page had a picture of a sink and the foreign language underneath. I flipped to the next page and it had the same thing, except with a different example.
Flipping through page after page, I suddenly realized what these were and why I was here. These were kindergarten books and I was learning how to read it. Just… damn. An entire literary encyclopedia set of bare basic knowledge. The pony I was sitting on gave me a tremendous smile before letting me slide back into my wheelchair, to which I more than happily oblidged. For the first time, I saw her entire face and really it was more cheerful than I had initially predicted. The young fillies brought out a table for me where I put down the stack and then they brought out blank scrolls, some quills, and an ink container.
I’m not entirely sure why a purple fireworks enthusiast brought me here to learn, but I guess they think I’m sentient enough to cope with their language. And, maybe if I studied enough I could ask them some questions and maybe, just finally, figure out where I was!
A sudden redeeming seemed to purge through my body, like when medicine kicks in but without the drowsiness. Finally, I could make some headway into figuring out my location and some other things, like why my legs are gone. A smile spread across my face ever so slowly as the glory of a new option, one with potential to solve just about everything, was born. I’ll never take school for granted again!
With a newfound resolution, I picked up the first book and got to work. My traveling group soon followed Tessa who ushered them to another part of the house. My guess would have to be she wanted me to have some silence so I wouldn’t be distracted or they needed to work on something else. Regardless, I was grateful. Before I could jot down my first note about the sink, a light green book levitated towards me. Freaky as it was, I removed it from the air and opened it.
There were seventy five pages, each with only one symbol.