Chapters Some people say that life is just a series of consequences which radiate from every choice you make. From the clothes you put on in the morning to what time you go to bed at night. You could leave the house at 7:30 in the morning for an interview and land your dream job, or you could leave the house at 7:35 and get hit by a semi. If only you'd left a few minutes earlier.
Still others say that life is a pre-determined series of events leading you towards a destiny that has already been decided for you, even if you don't know it yet. Your life is on a track, and you have no control over anything. You're just along for the ride, inching ever closer to an inevitable, already scheduled ending.
Those people are dicks.
I don't like the thought that at some point, some almighty power thought it would be amusing to stick me here on this hellhole of an island, separated from everything I love, everything I care about. I could die here at any moment, and nobody would ever find me. Just like Amelia Earhart.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.
My name is Jason Wheeler. I'm 22 years old. I like skateboarding, football, girls. Nothing unusual about my life, nothing extravagant or amazingly special. I thought it'd be a good idea for me to get out and see a bit of the world after college, even if only as a series of distant landscapes from the railed confines of a small, private cruise ship. Sure, I would've liked to have gone on one of those luxury liners that can pack thousands of people, but who can afford that? I just had to stick with a tourist vessel. Barely held a few hundred tourists and about thirty to forty staff.
God, I'm an idiot. But I couldn't have known that then.
I left on a Saturday, not that it means much now. I waved to my family, promising to check in now and again. The day I left was beautiful, and the day after that, and the day after that. Fishing during the day, all the while listening to a Hispanic tour guide point out various points of interest. I'm not entirely convinced he really knew what he was doing. He kept referring to dolphins as fish.
The fourth day was when everything went to hell. I've always been a heavy sleeper, and still I'm not sure how I managed to sleep through the pitching of the boat. It would rock left, then right, then left, then right, then further right just to mess with you as soon as you thought you'd found a pattern to steady yourself. I was awakened finally by a wall decoration which flew off its hook and smacked me in the face.
Rain was splattering the windows like pellets from a machine gun. I tried to look outside, but saw nothing but empty, overwhelming black. Voices were yelling on the deck. I was understandably confused. This was just a tourist boat, we were scheduled to circle a few islands, never going all that terribly deep into the endless sea. Maybe twenty miles offshore at most. Surely someone would have seen a storm coming, and headed for the harbor.
Under the assumption that we were close to land, I raced for the stairs. I thought I could help, a noble thought, although in retrospect not the smartest one I could have had right then. I pushed open the door to the deck and was instantly drenched by freezing rain. Struggling to gain a foothold while slipping on the deck, I stumbled towards the nearest figure I could see in between illuminating flashes of lightning. I could see his mouth moving, but couldn't hear any words over the wind and waves.
"WHAT?!" I yelled, barely able to hear my own voice.
I recognized the young man as one of the other tourists, he had a rope in his hand. He yelled again, I still couldn't hear him. He was pointing downwards. He didn't want my help after all. I was already drenched, but there was no sense in making a bad situation worse. I had just turned to head back down below when the wave hit, and the boat rocked. There was a sensation of flying, and then utter helplessness.
They say, in space, nobody can hear you scream. I guess that's kind of what this is like. There's nothing more terrifying than not being able to breathe and not even knowing which way is up. My brain was already trying to figure out what the hell I was doing in freezing water, and ordering me to stop doing it at once. My lungs screamed, equally angry with me for suddenly betraying them after 22 years of faithful service.
I was completely turned around, struggled to swim upwards. The waves instantly made me their bitch, tossing me back and forth like a feather in a hurricane. I couldn't see anything long enough to figure out where anything else was. I still have no idea how I made it out of that. Freezing rain, freezing waves, freezing wind. It was not an ideal place to be.
I remember being plunged underwater at the mercy of one particularly angry wave, and when my eyes next opened, I was facedown in sand. The chances of this particular occurance had to be upwards of impossible. My lungs were burning and my head was pounding. The storm raged on, but the sea had been deprived of its prize. I tried to call for help, call for anything, but my tongue was heavy and swollen from all the seawater I'd taken in.
Alright, first thing's first. Get away from the ocean trying to kill me. I crawled forward in total darkness, expecting my hand to land on a snake or the ground to give way into a long forgotten pit of poison spikes. Only my burning desire to get away from the crashing waves kept me going. I crawled until the sand gave way to rocks, and the rocks eventually gave way to what felt like grass. There must have been trees overhead, as the torrent of rain suddenly turned off.
Exhaustion overcame me, and darkness took me once more.
My eyes opened, I don't know how long after that. The storm was still visible in the distance, the waves still angry. But the rain had stopped. It was light out, I had never been so thankful for light. I lay underneath a cover of tall trees, slightly bent from the force of the winds and dripping from their leaves. Down below was a rocky beach, an expanse which spread an indeterminable amount of distance on both sides. I slowly rose to my feet, something very strange was going on here.
Okay, common sense time. Pretty much every inch of the ocean has been charted, hasn't it? No way an island this big would escape notice. Especially one so close to a travel route. The ship would be discovered missing, nearby landmasses would be searched. I'd be home by the weekend. But I couldn't stop thinking about the storm. How the hell had it come up out of nowhere? It didn't make sense. I stumbled my way down to the beach, littered with debris. Alright, so first, scavenge anything useful. I began picking up anything made of wood, anything that might be flammable later. Those got thrown into a pile beyond the reach of the waves. Useless now, but they'd dry off.
Scanning the horizon didn't help any, either. No land. There was nothing. How the hell was there nothing? The ship hadn't gone that far. I picked up a large metal box half buried in the sand near the sea and shook it. Something clanked inside. Sounded promising. I tried the latch. Locked. Of course it was, had I really expected anything else?
Damn it all.
I carried the box over to one of the rocks, a particularly pointy piece of work, and jammed the box down upon its edge several times. The lock broke apart after several tries, and a small radio flew into the grass from within its confines. I almost cried right there and then. I couldn't possibly be that lucky, I'd be home by sunset. I snatched up the device, and turned the dial with shaking hands.
Static. Holy shit, it worked. Another impossibility. All of these impossible things working in my favor so easily were starting to stack up. Something was very unusual about this place. Was I dead? It didn't feel like it, something was far too real about all this.
"The worst luck ever followed by the best luck ever..." I said to myself, and adjusted the tuning dial. Static, static, static, every frequency, every station. Impossible. I'd spoken too soon. I continued tuning, convinced there had to be someone, somewhere. On one particular hairline frequency, the static cleared. I could only pray.
Trying to overcome the urge to smash the button in, I fell to my knees in the sand and whispered into the unit.
"Hello? Hello? Someone? Anyone?" I pleaded.
The response came, but it felt like I waited for hours. "Um. Yes?" Came the answer. A female. Thank Jesus.
"Oh thank God, listen, this is Jason Wheeler. I need help."
"Jay-sun? That's an odd name. Are you alright?."
"I'm not alright, but I'm not hurt." I said. I couldn't help but be surprised. The hell did that mean? Why didn't she seem more concerned that I was in trouble? Why was my name stranger than hers?
"Oh really? And if my name is so strange, then what's yours?" I demanded.
"Mine? My name is Lyra."
Far too many coincidences were beginning to add up in order to be completely random. The storm was the biggest factor on my mind at the moment. I had run all sorts of options and alternatives through my head, but I just couldn't figure out how a storm of that size and severity had taken a ship of more than a hundred people by surprise. Weather tracking technology was so advanced these days, and at the very LEAST someone should have SEEN the damn thing.
And then there was the radio. My only link to the outside world.
Very little debris had washed up on the shore, which I found a good sign. I didn't think that the ship had been destroyed or gone down. At least I prayed it didn't. I had been knocked overboard by a rogue wave, one which had seemingly only dislodged me because I had the misfortune of having not been holding onto anything at the time. The debris which had littered the island had been minimal. A few broken planks of wood, a life jacket, a radio. All things seemingly designed to assist with survival. That was chillingly convenient.
I held the radio tightly in both hands, in such a firm grip that my knuckles began to turn white. This radio was all I had, and I was afraid if I let it out of my sight it would dissolve into dust or disappear completely. There was nobody here on this island, nobody except myself and the voice who called herself Lyra.
"Jason, you still there?" She asked.
"Yeah, I'm here." I replied. "Lyra is a nice name, what's it mean?"
"What do you mean? It's part of who I am, I play the lyre."
Now she was just starting to sound odd. I frowned a bit, but didn't think anything else of it. At least, I didn't until she continued talking. That's when things got strange.
"What's YOUR name mean? That's an awfully odd name for a pony."
Pony? I could have sworn she just said pony. I must have misheard her. I shook the radio lightly, giving it a light tap. Trying to clear up any static that may be interfering. That was another odd thing about this place. Not a single station was coming in, and I wasn't all that far from the mainland. Why wasn't anything working?
"I'm sorry, come again?" I asked.
"I asked what your name meant. You have a strange name for a pony."
There it was again. That time she definitely said pony.
"Um... I'm not a pony." I said defensively, feeling absolutely ridiculous for having to say even that.
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. Dragon then?" Lyra offered.
This was getting ridiculous. At first I thought someone on the other end was just being silly, but this was starting to feel like I was being pranked. Or trolled, as the people on Reddit often said. And it wasn't even a very good trolling.
"Alright, look, this is getting old. I'm not a pony, I'm not a dragon, I'm not a werewolf. Whoever put you up to this, just stop. I'm in real trouble here, I got thrown off my ship. I need you to get a hold of someone and tell them where I am so they can come get me."
"Of course you're not a werewolf, werewolves don't exist." Lyra said with amusement. I wanted to hit her. "But if you're lost, that's no good. I suppose I could send a message to Twilight Sparkle, she's usually pretty good at solving predicaments."
"Twi-" I began. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was talking to someone in San Francisco. These were just the sort of strange names that they would come up with.
"So let me get this straight. You're trying to imply that you're a dragon and I'm just supposed to believe that."
"Don't be silly. I'm a unicorn."
Oh, so there it was. I slammed my fist down in the sand. "Listen, I've had just about enough of this. Unicorns don't exist. Dragons don't exist. Ponies don't talk. Don't play games with me right now, are you going to help me or not?"
Lyra sounded confused. "Of course I'll help you. But if you're not any of those things, what are you?"
"Human." I said, a bit of anger rising in my face. This entire conversation was becoming retarded, and I wasn't any closer to getting help.
Lyra made a very strange noise that sounded like a mix between a hiccup and a gasp. There was giggling, which grew louder in frequency to the point I had to step away from the radio. They say you're never supposed to wake up someone who's sleepwalking, was that what this felt like? I thought I had just broken Lyra, or whatever her name was.
"I knew it! I knew it!" She was exclaiming, and a sudden rush of excitement came through the speaker. "Wait here, I'm gonna get you help, alright? I know just the pony who can find you!" There was a clattering as if the radio had been dropped, and then silence.
Great. My only companion was a crazy person. I waited for what felt like hours, before picking up the radio and hooking it to my belt. I began to walk along the beach, trying to mentally calculate how large the island was. Additionally, if at any point on the island I could make out another landmass on the horizon.
There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a mini-forest circling the center of the island, the outer ring of which was covered in a sandy beach. I saw no animals, not even a single bird. That worried me.
I had walked almost two miles over the course of an hour when the radio suddenly sprang back to life.
"Jason! Jason!" It was Lyra.
"Thank God. You found someone?"
"Sure did! Here!"
"Hi!" A new voice screamed.
I dropped the radio in the sand in shock, one hand holding my ringing ear. That voice. It was the most annoying thing I'd ever heard, a high pitched verbal assault.
"Agh!" I exclaimed. "Who's... this?"
"Pinkie Pie at your service!" The voice chirped. "You can call me Pinkie, or you can call me Pie, or you can call me Pinkie Pie, or I suppose you could call me Celestia if you wanted to, but that would get really confusing because then we'd have to call Celestia Pinkie and I want to be Pinkie, so that really wouldn't work."
Dear God. Make it stop.
"Okay. OKAY!" I exclaimed. But she just kept going. Could nothing shut this woman off?
"Lyra says you're a human, which if that's true, means you definitely don't live here. Oh! Oh! Maybe you're in a parallel universe! Are you near a lighthouse?" She asked.
"No. I am not near a lighthouse. I'm stuck on a damn island."
"Okay, okay, Mr. Grumpy Pants." She said. I wasn't sure I liked her.
"Are you anywhere in Equestria?"
"I don't even know what Equestria IS." I said. This wasn't helping.
"Huh. Well this is a puzzler. I'm gonna go ask Twilight Sparkle what it means! Bye!"
"NOW WAIT JUST A-" Useless. She was gone. My head hurt. Lyra, Pinkie, Twilight Sparkle. These were sounding less like names and more like flavors of cake.
Lyra returned. "Listen, I have to go for a little bit, keep your radio close. Don't go anywhere, alright? We'll figure this out."
"Oh, yeah, sure, don't go anywhere. I was just going to head to the mall for a few hours, but now that you mention it, I'll stay here." I said bitterly.
"Great!" She said, and just like that she was gone.
I sat down in the sand, rubbing my head to try and convince a growing headache to leave me alone. I flipped over the radio, concerned that my extensive usage would drain the life out of the radio before I could tell anyone where I was.
I unlatched the battery panel, and flicked it open. My eyes widened in disbelief. The radio fell from my hands and tumbled into the sand.
"That's... not... possible..."
The battery compartment was empty.
I stared at the radio in my hands for what felt like centuries. The sun and moon could have cycled twice over and I would not have noticed it. My brain was broken, trying to process the information it was receiving.
Not possible. Not possible. Not possible. My thoughts were stuck in an endless cycle. I shook my head to clear it, and turned the radio over in my hands, seeking any sort of explanation. Any sort of external power source. But there was none. A radio, which all facts of technology told me should not be working. Another impossibility to add to the ever growing list.
I looked out at the waves. The sun was slowly setting. For some reason I took comfort in that, knowing that the passage of time remained unaltered. Everything had started going to hell the moment I was thrown overboard, and my mind made itself up. I needed to get off this island. But that brought up yet another impossibility.
How?
i circled back to the approximate location where I had first awoken. A few body-sized shards of driftwood littered the beach. Definitely not from the ship itself, more likely remnants of cargo. I could string them together as a raft, but I had no string, no adhesives, no paddle. If the ocean decided to become violent again... I didn't want to think about that. I grabbed a piece of driftwood, and hauled it upright. I could use it as a paddle board, but then I'd be at the mercy of sharks. Additionally, I couldn't see any nearby landmass. Why forsake a place of sanctuary for the unknown?
Desperation. Entire wars had been fought on simpler concepts, but I wanted off this damn place. I didn't like how quiet it was. Not a single chirp of birdsong, rustle of woodland animal, there was nothing. That worried me more than anything else, I think. The island could be radioactive for all I knew. Animals sensed those things.
I decided to try to sleep, laying down in a blanket of grass near the sand. Exhaustion crept up and overtook me almost instantly. When I woke, morning was dawning. Barely sunrise. The night had been uneventful. I stood and stretched, realizing I hadn't eaten in over a day now. I wasn't hungry. Nor felt any negative repercussions from my lack of consumption. Again, why? Soon I'd be able to write a book on all the questions I had, but for now it was one less thing to worry about.
Grain of salt, I suppose.
I quickly began binding together driftwood with long reeds of grass, winding them together in simple knots. This was a terrible, terrible idea, but I had no alternative. Desperation drove stronger men than I insane. I left the radio in the sand, intending on leaving behind its ridiculous notion of talking equines. I took one look at the island behind me, and kicked off into the waiting waves, propelling my craft forward with a flat piece of driftwood.
It should have sunk instantly. It should have fallen apart. By all counts, this ridiculous idea should have failed. Yet it sailed forward as sturdy as a canoe from Wal-Mart. It was by this point I began to consider the very real possibility that I was dead, and living in my own personal hell. But why? I'd always been a good person, unless I'd been damned for hitting James O'Neil in the face with an iceball that one winter. Kid had a stupid face anyway.
The raft bounced on the ocean, which was fairly calm this morning. I had never been a religious man, but I prayed. Prayed for anything on the horizon. I had no way to tell which direction I was going, but it wasn't long before a gray mass appeared in the distance. Thank Jesus. I sailed towards it, looking behind me. The island I had left was barely visible, the other grey mass in front.
My strength was renewed by hope, and I pushed forward. I wasn't really sure what to think anymore, people had survived in isolation for far longer than this with far fewer supplies in the past. People who were less creative and less resourceful than I was. But at least they had animals to hunt, a sense of logic and accuracy in the world where everything worked the way it was supposed to. Here, everything was beginning to feel manufactured.
It was real, though. I could feel the heat of the sun as it climbed in the sky, wince at the burning in my arms as they protested my relentless drive to move forward. I could smell and taste the sea as it sprayed into my face and blistered my arms.
Hours passed, and the sun was well past its peak by the time the new landmass was within reachin distance. It may have been no better than the last one, but I wasn't about to stop trying. I sank into waist deep water and trudged towards land.
Well, that was easy. Too easy.
I was feeling rather proud of myself, that is, until I saw the radio lying half buried in the sand. My brain nearly broke in half again. I had gone in a fairly straight line, and arrived at the same place I had left.
In a matter of seconds, whatever reserves of strength and hope I had left disappeared.
"...That's it. I'm dead. I'm in hell." I whispered. What other explanation was there? Some supernatural force refused to give me up. It was just past noon now, I had been on the water for almost eight hours. Nothing had happened in all that time, just paddling. Lots of paddling. The relentless burning in my arms wouldn't let me forget that any time soon. I looked back at my raft, still lodged in the sand. It was a piece of shit, composed of nothing but long reeds and wood. The fact that it had actually worked made talking horses pretty damn believable.
I picked up the radio, dialing into the only frequency which worked. Talking ponies or not, they were the only things keeping me from becoming completely insane, and I doubted even they could that off much longer.
"Hello?" I asked.
"Hi, Jason!" Came the reply. I recognized the one who called herself Lyra.
"...You're really a horse, aren't you?" I asked with a tone of defeat.
"Pony." Lyra corrected. "Are you really human?"
"Last time I checked." I said. "Listen, you don't happen to have anyone experienced in explaining the unexplainable, do you?" I asked. "I'm pretty sure I'm dead."
"Don't be silly, you're not dead." Lyra sounded amused.
"It's the only thing that makes sense. I don't know what to think anymore. By all laws of science and nature, either I'm dead or this island is magical. And magic doesn't exist."
"I disagree." A new voice said, this one hadn't spoken before.
"Great, who's this? Wind Whistler?" I asked. It was the dumbest name I could come up with.
"Don't be ridiculous, Jason. My name is Twilight Sparkle."
I sighed. So this was the 'unicorn' Lyra had told me about. "Alright, not like I have anywhere else to be at the moment."
"Tell me exactly what happened to you, the smallest detail might be important." Twilight said.
I was silent for a moment, knowing damn well how crazy it all seemed. I told her about being thrown overboard, waking up on an island. The lack of batteries in the radio, my attempt at leaving this damn place. Not being able to get away from it. Twilight was quiet through all of it.
"I think I might be able to get you some answers, Jason. And I may even be able to get you home. But you're going to have to do something for me, and you're not going to like it."
"So I'm not dead?"
"You're not dead." Twilight said. "I have a few theories, but I'll need to do some quick research first. I've never encountered this particular predicament before."
Great. Why did that worry me even more? If she was right, whatever little comfort I had in my situation was quickly evaporating. At least if I was dead, I could kind of learn to be okay with that. But if I was alive, that meant talking ponies were real. Magic was real. And I really didn't think I was ready to handle that.
I hesitated. "What am I going to have to do?"
"Assuming I'm right, which I usually am, it's simple, really." Twilight said after a moment. "You have to go back into the storm."
Into the storm. Did she just say go back into the storm? Two things were immediately wrong with that. First of all, the ocean had been almost completely calm since the morning following my arrival. Secondly, even if another storm did present itself, there was no way in hell that I was going back into it. That was just asinine.
"Excuse me?" I asked, just for clarification. Maybe I had heard her incorrectly.
"Let me explain." Twilight said. "I think I know what your predicament is. Unless I'm mistaken, the wave that knocked you off your boat flung you into a bubble, a disconnected pocket of space."
"...What?" I said, trying very hard not to laugh. First talking ponies, now inter dimensional travel? Ridiculous.
"Bear with me." Twilight said. "Since you arrived on island, has the weather worsened at all?"
"No, it hasn't." I confirmed.
"And your mindset has been one of fear, praying that the weather cooperates?"
"Well, yes. One storm was bad enough. I really don't feel like sitting through another one. Secondly, poor conditions mean poor visibility, reducing the chances of my being found and rescued."
"Precisely!" Twilight exclaimed. "Your subconscious is controlling your environment. I can't say exactly for sure how you wound up in that bubble, but you will be completely unable to escape it by conventional means," she said.
I felt a sense of dread rising within me. It wasn't that I didn't believe her, it was that I didn't want to believe her. This kind of information could completely turn everything I knew upside down, and defied every known facet of scientific logic.
"That would explain my raft," I said. I'd told her my entire story thus far, including my inability to leave this damned island.
"It does indeed. It doesn't matter how you leave that island, or what direction you take. You're always going to end up back where you started." Twilight said.
"Alright." I gave a sigh of defeat. "And what about the lack of any signs of habitation? The absence of birds, or even fish?"
"That's simple. In desperation, your mind created a space to protect you in a moment of extreme stress. It created the environment from existing knowledge already stored in your memories. But not even the mind can create new life."
"You're saying I can't play God?" I asked.
"Who? I'm not sure what you mean by that." Twilight sounded confused. "Not even Princess Celestia can create life from nothing, it's an extreme feat of her power just to channel the alicorn process."
I decided not to ask what an alicorn was. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it.
"So you claim that I'm in pocket of space in which I'm suddenly in contact with talking ponies." My voice was bitter, the words sounded absolutely ridiculous leaving my mouth.
"That's not unusual. Different dimensions primarily have no contact with each other, but a subconscious pocket of space could press against or even interlock with any number of dimensions because it's not supposed to be there. It's only blind luck that you managed to contact this one."
"And once I leave here, I'll never hear from Equestria again?"
"Most likely." Twilight confirmed. She sounded a bit regretful. "It's a shame, really. There's so much we could learn from each other. At the very least, Lyra will never shut up about it. She's been going on about humans for years, and we all thought she was making it up. You should have seen her face. I think half the town owes her an apology now."
I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't help smiling at that. "I'm glad I could help. I think." I said. "So what do I do about the storm? I want to get out of here."
"Completely understandable. You have to will the storm to exist," Twilight informed me.
It sounded stupid, but I was willing to try anything at this point. "Can I talk to Lyra real fast? I think I owe her that much."
"Of course," Twilight said. "Be safe, Jason." There was silence for a long moment, and Lyra's voice returned to existence.
"Please don't go, Jason!" Lyra pleaded. "I waited so long to talk to a human, if you can't take me with you, at least don't leave me alone again!"
"You won't be alone, Lyra. You have your friends." I said quietly. I still wasn't entirely sure I believed in all this, but the sadness in her voice was still heartbreaking.
"I know. But it's still not fair that you have to go already.".
You'll be alright, Lyra. If I don't talk to you again, thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome. Good luck, Jason." Lyra said, and the radio went silent. I wandered down to the beach and tugged my raft up further onto the beach, just in case. My mind began to wander. Instead of being scared of the storm, I began to encourage it. Willing myself to wish for rain, for stronger waves.
Nothing happened, not that I expected any differently. I crossed my arms, trying a bit harder.
"Come on, storm!" I yelled out into the winds. The waves began to look just a bit bigger, the sky a bit darker. I thought I was imagining it at first, but soon it was undeniable. A storm was coming.
I wasted no time. Grabbing my raft, I hauled ass towards the waves and pushed it into the angry ocean. The raft immediately began bouncing, and it was difficult to stay aboard it. It made sense now that it hadn't fallen apart. It stayed together because I WANTED it to stay together. I guess that worked in my favor. My arm worked the paddle, churning further into the darkening skies.
I wasn't sure how much power I had over this pocket realm, but I willed larger waves and darker skies. I was not disappointed. The waves were powerful now, and I found it impossible to stay aboard the raft. For the second time in a matter of days, a heavy wave tore into my body, whipping me backwards into the foam. I barely managed to stay afloat, bobbing helplessly in the surf.
"Is that all you have?!" I screamed.
In response, lightning lit up the sky, and freezing rain began to pour from the clouds. My raft had long disappeared.
"You better be right, Twilight Sparkle." I whispered under my breath, and flung my arms wide as another wave came crashing down, and I plunged towards the dark depths of the ocean.
Have I mentioned lately how much I dislike the ocean? From the first moment I've been out here, it's beaten me up twice, changed the way I look at EVERYTHING, and shown a total disregard for the laws of science.
The wave which plunged me into darkness was a monster, and was immediately followed by a sense of vertigo and helplessness. I had managed to suck in a deep breath moments before, and swam feverishly towards what I thought was the surface. My head was pounding and my arms burned, leading to a feeling of dismay as my fingers clutched the rocky bottom of the ocean floor. My supply of air was rapidly running out, and I did the only thing I could think of.
My feet pressed against the bottom of the ocean, and I kicked off, arms flailing to propel myself upwards into the darkness. I broke the surface of the water and was immediately assaulted by blinding daylight. I groaned and flung my arm over my eyes, taking a few precious minute to adjust to the sudden disorientation.
When at last I could see again, I quickly looked around to catch my bearings. Large masses of land were visible in several directions, the closest one had a harbor from which ships and boats were sailing in and out. Without wasting any time, I began to swim for it.
I didn't even make it all the way to the harbor. I wasn't sure I could. Thank God for patrols.
A routine Coast Guard patrol boat zipped back and forth, I could feel my strength rapidly draining. It only took a few waves and a few shouts to catch their attention, and they quickly made their way toward me. A line was flung from the boat, and I tied it around my waist, eagerly accepting the embrace of strangers. I was hauled in, strong yet gentle hands grabbing me and hauling me up.
I passed out only seconds after being laid down on the deck.
Turns out I was only missing for a few hours. Some sort of time displacement, I guess. I don't understand it now, I'll probably never understand it. The tourist vessel I had been on had survived the storm, and a head count had been taken shortly after its dissipation. I had been the only one missing, and a search had immediately taken place. The recollections I heard from those on board claimed they had never seen a storm come and go so quickly, and nobody was unable to explain it. It was just one of those things, I guess.
I was taken to the nearest hospital, evaluated, and aside from sunburn and dehydration, announced to be in fine condition. A few reporters wanted to get an interview from me, but I turned them down. What would I tell them? I survived in a rip in space that didn't even exist, and had bided my time talking to horses? That I had survived on a mysterious island filled with meerkats? Yeah, that didn't sound crazy at all. I insisted that I was fine, and must have become disoriented.
I don't think they entirely believed my story, or sensed that there was more to it. But I didn't want to talk about it, and eventually the few media which had arrived got frustrated or bored, and left.
Laying in the abnormally white bed and waiting for my parents to arrive was the worst part. I couldn't shake the feeling that the bed was moving, churning, threatening to throw me onto the floor. At one point I looked outside the window and for the briefest moment thought I saw a horse, watching. A horse with an enormous pastel colored mane. I blinked, and the image was gone. I looked again, but there was nothing there.
My parents visited after a few hours, seeming to have aged years since the last time I saw them. They had been contacted the moment the ship was en route back to the harbor, and had been worried sick since then. My father smelled of cigarette smoke, something he did when he was worried but that I don't think he'd engaged in for years. My mother was practically glowing with relief.
"How did you ever manage it?" She kept asking. "What went through your mind, out there by yourself?" She wouldn't let go of my hand, as if afraid I might float away again.
"I dunno." I said. "It's a miracle, I suppose. I just kept thinking of my family and friends, that got me through the worst of it."
My mother looked relieved. "Well, you know what they say. Friendship is magic, after all."
I groaned at the metaphor. "Yeah, right. As if THAT will ever catch on."
