A Thief by another Name.

by TheSecretBrony

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Human
Length: 1437

Hello, my name's Jason, I'm 24 and I'm a collector, sure from time to time I collect things that aren't mine, but that doesn't make me a thief! Anyway, you people probably want to hear a good story right? Well I got one that&

A First Person perspective HiE story.

Hello, my name's Jason, I'm 24 years old and I'm a collector, sure from time to time I collect things that aren't mine, but that doesn't make me a thief. Anyway, you people probably want to hear a good story right? Well I got one that'll knock your socks off.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-02 01:20:02 UTC

Introduction.

You ever have a dream, where you never wanted to wake up? How about a nightmare, where it never seemed to end? Right now, I feel like I'm sort of in a grey area.

My name is Jason, I'm 24 and I work as a computer technician for a law firm. I'm also a... collector of sort. I know, I know by now you're probably thinking of a nerdy kid, bedroom lined with figurines, trading cards, all that sort of crap. Well you're half right, that was what I was like when I was a kid. Hey! Don't judge we all had our little "clicks" in high school. Anyway I liked owning things, lot's of things. In my adult years, it sort of became a habit.

Oh believe me I tried walking the straight and narrow, had a decent job, a nice looking apartment. My own little slice of heaven, right in the city centre. It just wasn't enough. I liked nice things, is that really so hard to imagine? Eventually though, I couldn't get my money to stretch far enough, I'd even sell my things, just so I could buy more things. My doctor called it oniomania. She was probably right, still she wanted me to buy a load of therapy sessions, talk about mixed messages.

Eventually, I got bored of sitting around, waiting for my paycheck to be put in the bank. I took to the streets. I started off small, little things like picking pockets. Remind me to show you my credit card collection sometime, it's a bit of a step up from baseball cards I'll tell you that much. I got good at it too, though I nearly got caught a couple of times, nearly.

As you can imagine, it was only a matter of time until I started upping the ante. Making unscheduled trips into my neighbours' apartments for instance. A little tip, if you get caught the first couple of times, act drunk. Chances are they won't call the cops, they'll just kick you out, or if they feel like being a good Samaritan, they'll carry you back to your own apartment. Easy. Eventually they'll either catch on and have you arrested, or you just wont get caught anymore. For me it was the latter.

Anyway, back to the grey area. Ever heard of karma? That thing's a bitch. What goes around, comes around and it knocked me for six. I'm not sure how it happened, I'm not sure why it happened, all I know is this. I went to bed, closed my eyes and when I opened the up BAM! I'm in the middle of field. I know right? At first I panicked, thinking the jig was up and some poor soul had come back for all the stuff I'd "liberated" from him. It had to be a him, I don't take women's things. Not my style, besides who says chivalry is dead?

So I start calling out, looking for the ass who put me in the field. I'm not a heavy set chap as you'd might imagine, can't be light on your feet AND pack away the pounds. Still I was nowhere near any buildings and this place certainly looked out of the way, I didn't even recognize it. I started looking for tire tracks, imagining someone had bundled me into the trunk of a car or something and dumped me out here. Nothing, there was nothing, not even any footprints. This field was kind of muddy and the soil had some give, I had expected to see tracks of some kind. It's like a giant crane had plucked me up from my bed and dumped me here, and I remember thinking to myself that was surely that was taking things a bit too far.

The field? Why would I describe the field? It was just a field, you know grass, couple of flowers? Come on, use your imagination a bit would you?!

I start walking and eventually I can just make out what looks like a barn. A big red barn. Had I suddenly ended up in Amish country? Looking around, I could see sheep, pigs, cows, everything short of Old McDonald himself. No roads, no telephone poles. I could also see a little cottage. Awesome, I could just go and talk to the farmer, figure out where I am and today was Saturday wasn't it? I remember going to bed Friday night, maybe I could stick around, watch the football while I try and figure out a way home. Then I saw that the cottage didn't even have an antennae on the roof. Yep, pretty sure this is Amish country.

As I walk my way down, I notice something odd. A small, orange horse kicking a tree, and was? It was, it was wearing a hat! It noticed me and starting staring back, almost like it was scrutinizing me. I just laughed it off, it was just a horse after all. Probably just some territorial thing or something. When I turned to look back it had gone, I'd probably spooked it.

I shrugged, oh well, the farmer can deal with that. Me, I just wanted to get home. I knocked on the door of the cottage.

"Er, hello?" I said.

"Whosit?!" A loud raspy voice shouted out, from the sounds of it and old lady.

"My name's Jason, I'm not sure how but I ended up in one of your fields this morning, d'you mind if I come in, I want to figure out where I am."

This old lady spoke with a very distinct southern drawl. Had I ended up in Texas or something? Just how long was I out? "Ya ain't a timberwolf are ya?" She said.

Considering I hadn't even heard of a timberwolf before, my answer was obvious. "No ma'am."

"Alright, come on in young'un." I thanked her and walked over the threshold. I had to duck my head slightly as the door frame only went as high as my forehead, what was even stranger was how small the kitchen was that I'd walked into. Keeping my head bowed, I walked from one end to other in a few strides.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the main room, jus' take a left."

I followed the sound of her voice and found myself in front of yet another door. She was probably on the other side so I went straight on through. This, main room, as she'd called it was almost as small as the kitchen. I could see a rocking chair facing a window. It was one of those big old-timey rocking chairs you know? Looked like it'd been hand-carved out of wood too. There was a white bun of hair propping over the back of the seat and I could hear the repetitive click-clacking of knitting needles. It looked like I'd found my host.

"Ended up in our fields you say? Lemme guess, your one of those feather-brained pegasuses ain't ya? Wassa matter, you been going too fast for your own good again?" She said in an off-handed manner.

My response to this was as calm as I could manage. Obviously this woman was crazy. I was a nerd, remember? I knew what a Pegasus was. And I was most certainly not a horse with wings. "Er... what?!" I said flabbergasted.

She must have thought she'd offended me, as when she spoke again she sounded quite apologetic, though retaining that little snap in her words. "No need to shout young'un, I ain't mean nothing by it, now let's get a look at ya. Must'a crashed pretty hard if you don't know where ya are."

This little old lady dropped out of her chair, as she rounded it, quite frankly I was speechless. The old lady however was not. She wasn't even a lady, she was a-

"Horse?!" Okay, so maybe I wasn't speechless but I was still pretty freaked out. Anyway, in my shock I toppled backwards, tripping over my own feet.

The horse did the same, only she screamed "What in tarnation are you! Somepony help!"

"What are you?!" We said in unison. I started to back up until I tripped and landed painfully on my backside, my back pressing against the door. That was the last thing I said for a while though. I felt the door swing behind me and the last thing I remember is hearing a loud "Gong", a sharp pain in the back of my head, a flash of red and then the world went black.

Obviously, I wasn't having the best of days.