The man’s eyes shoot open as he inhales deeply. His aged bed creaks from the sudden movement, sounding above the loud pattering of the rain attacking the man’s roof and windows. Faded early-morning light shines through the window and scatters across the man’s room. He looks to his alarm clock. 6:59 AM. A minute before the alarm would blare. He sighs and lets his head sink into his dirty pillows, hoping to enjoy his last minute of silence before the day starts. A walk through a bustling downtown, a ride on an overcrowded bus, and a boring day of being an intern at a therapy office.
7:00.
But he hears no bells ringing, no obnoxious beeps, no alarm blaring. He hears a loud creaking, much like the one in cartoons, he thinks, when they open the bars to a prison cell.
Confused, he looks to his clock. Unlike every other morning, however, there is no red glare of the dull object. in fact, there is no light. Simply darkness. He reaches out to the darkness, but his hand slams into what feels like cold cement, and his fingers crinkle against the rough surface. Hissing in pain, he recoils his hand.
A miniscule light shines from the other side of his bed, casting a small orange glow around the room.
“Hello?” He calls. “Who’s there?! Where am I!?”
“Shush, human!” A feminine voice shouts in reply.
The man looks towards the source of the voice, and becomes even more confused. He takes in the room around him — a cold, dank cell of sorts. Sitting up, he feels that his bed is not actually his bed, but rather a simple scratchy cot.
“Stay still!” the silhouette commands, advancing towards the man.
Her shoes clack on the ground rapidly, causing the man’s heart to race. He starts to scramble, pinching himself in one of the many springs on the cot and accidentally kicking one of the cold metal bars at his feet. Trying to understand where he is, he quickly surveys the room. It appears to be a simple concrete cell with one wall made up of bars, which the woman is on the other side of.
“Trixie said stay still!” She repeats, causing the man to look towards his predator. The shadow halts at the cell opening and opens the bars, whilst she sets a dim-glowing candle down.
“W-who are you!? Why am I-I here?”
“Trixie demands you service her!”
The shadow steps into better light just as the man’s eyes formally adjust, and he doesn’t believe what is before him. A plush, light blue pony — no, unicorn, with a soaking wet coat and mane, which are dripping onto the floor.
“What!?” He shrieks, backing up to the wall.
She glares at him, allowing the sound of the rain to again seize control of the cell.
“What!?” He repeats, as his eyes manage to widen even more.
“Hmmm. Trixie thought you would know what that meant.”
“Well, I don’t! Now where am I!?”
She scoffs.
“Isn’t it obvious? We are in a building.”
The man decides to not pursue that question anymore.
“Who are you?! Why am I here?”
“Hmph! You do not recognize the Great and Powerful Trixie!?” Trixie questions, raising her head high.
“Um... no?” He squeaks.
Trixie shoots her head back down and gives him a death stare, but she relaxes slightly, thinking.
“Oh, yes, that’s right, you are not from this world,” she recalls, taking a miniscule step backwards. “So, human, what world did you come from? What do they call you?”
“What? I’m in a different world? Why?”
“Trixie said, what is your name?!”
“Woah, calm down, calm down, my name is Dean, and you are... are Trixie, right?” Dean asks.
“Yes. Now, since you have proved useless to Trixie, come with her, and you may be able to return.”
Dean hesitantly gets out of the cot and follows Trixie. He puts his hands in his jean pockets and looks around the cell. The few windows are barred or have shattered glass in them, and plants grow wildly through cracks in the floor and walls. Most of the ceiling is gone, and the pair walks under the remaining parts. Rain pelts as loud as a jet, and a cold chill makes itself present to Dean.
Within a moment, they are in a more sealed part of the prison-like building, and Trixie uses her candle to light another.
“Sit down,” Trixie says.
“Alright,” Dean agrees, and sits criss-cross on the cold cement floor.
The blue unicorn walks towards the middle of the poorly-lit room, sets down the candle, and her horn begins to cast a small amount of light. The weak blue light that surrounds her horn also envelops a small platform on the ground, and the platform raises about a meter into the air.
“Now this will take a few minutes, and then you can go,” she states, walking back towards Dean. Her horn still shining, as well as the platform, she advances to Dean. Trixie takes a seat close to Dean, and stares at the contraption she controls. “You know,” Trixie continues, “you’re a lot less... crazy, than the other humans I have brought here.”
He shrugs. “Eh. Weird things happen, and I’m okay with that. I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming, but usually I wake up when I realize that. Also,” Dean pinches himself, and goes on, “That always wakes me up. Anyway, how many humans have you brought here? And why?”
Trixie looks at him uneasily, and reluctantly answers, “Three, apart from you. Why must you know?”
Dean shrugs again. “Just curious, I guess. If you don’t wanna answer, whatever. I’m clearly not the one in control here.”
“Well, if you want to know, it is because of this book,” she says, using telekinesis to float over a book off of a nearby table. “It says that humans, of the world Earth, once serviced ponies at their command, before they were exiled back to Earth.”
“Huh.”
“So, you do not know what services you are supposed to provide?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t the book have something on that?”
“It did, but over the centuries the pictures have faded and blurred and ripped, so I had hoped that the humans would remember,” Trixie explains, sighing.
“So what are you doing out here? This doesn’t seem like a place for anybody to live. Is everywhere like this in this world?”
“Trixie stays here because it is much more welcoming than the rest of the forest. And no, Trixie is the only pony that lives this way,” she says, repeating her sigh, and shifting around.
“Well why’s that?” Dean questions, cocking an eyebrow. “Did something happen to you?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I got time,” Dean says.
“Hmmm,” she thinks aloud. “I suppose if you must know, I can tell you.”
“Alright, go ahead,” he says, spinning in place to look at the strange creature before him.
“You don’t need to tell Trixie to do something she was already going to do,” she snaps at him, then lets out another small sigh. “Sorry,” she squeaks, then continues, “Trixie used to be a showmare, traveling place to place and performing amazing feats of magic before thousands of adoring ponies...” She stares off into the forest with glistening eyes, lost in a memory.
“Go on...”
“Well, one day, Trixie came to Ponyville, a town not far from here. As she was dazzling the crowd with her unique performance, a few ponies got jealous and decided to start booing at the Great and Powerful Trixie.”
“Um, sorry, but it does sound like you were kinda showboating.”
Trixie reels back and glares at Dean, but then she relaxes, and scolds herself under her breath.
“You’re right. I was showing off,” she admits, slumping her head down. “Trixie keeps reminding herself that, because she keeps forgetting.”
“That’s okay, it happens to everyone,” Dean assures her, frowning at her sudden sadness.
“It... it does?”
“Yeah, sure. Everyone has problems remembering, and, everyone I know who shows off doesn’t even realize that they are. So you’re doing better than most.”
“Really?” Trixie asks, looking up at Dean.
“Really,” he confirms, smiling a little.
“Well, thank you,” she says.
“Of course. I hate it when peopl- or ponies, I guess, are sad.”
She nods.
“Oh, right, where was Trixie? Ah yes, she was explaining the problem in the crowd. So, Trixie went to deal with the ponies mocking her, and one of them dared challenge Trixie. Trixie was mean in return, and almost hurt the ponies, all while she was talking about defeating the Ursa Major.”
“Ursa Major? Isn’t that some sort of star formation?”
“What? No, it is a very large beast, much larger than Trixie once thought.”
“Ah.”
“As Trixie was saying, she had boasted about defeating one, and in an odd turn of events, an Ursa Minor showed up. Trixie ran, while a much more talented pony fought the monster,” she explains, letting yet another sigh escape.
“Wow,” Dean says.
“Yes, Trixie was not very nice. And then she came back again, from the forest, with a dangerous item. Trixie challenged the talented unicorn to a duel, but she lost. In the end, Trixie ran again, but the talented unicorn forgave her, or so she says.”
“Really? Did something happen after that?”
“No, Trixie has just been here, reading that book and trying to summon humans like you, but less useless.”
Dean again cocks an eyebrow, which Trixie sees.
“Sorry, Trixie did not mean that.”
“It’s okay. So, why haven’t you gone back to... what did you call it? Maresville?”
“Ponyville.”
“Ah. Why haven’t you gone back? If she forgave you, maybe you should visit her,” he suggests.
“Trixie does not think all of Ponyville would like to see her again, nor Twilight Sparkle.”
“If after all you did — no offence — Twilight said it was okay, I’m sure she means it. It would take a really nasty per- sorry, pony, to lie like that,” he points out.
Ding!
“Well, human, or, Dean rather, it is ready. You can return,” the blue mare says, looking towards the strange platform.
Dean nods, and stands up. He begins walking towards the machine, but he stops.
“Hey, can I try something?” He asks.
“That depends, what?”
“In my world we have ponies, but they are very different. They really enjoy it when you scratch behind their ear, or so I think. Since you can talk, you can tell me if you enjoy it or if it is a reflex. Do you mind?”
Trixie looks at him suspiciously.
“I... I suppose,” she says.
Dean walks over to her, and gently places his hand behind her ears. As he lightly scratches, Trixie lets out a subtle smile, and a small “ooohhhh.”
Dean lifts his hand and backs up, saying, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He turns back to the machine, and Trixie follows.
“Just step here and I’ll transport you.”
“Okay.”
He steps up on the platform, now on the ground once more, and nods to Trixie.
“Trixie will do what you say and visit Twilight Sparkle. She thinks... she thinks you are right. Trixie thanks you, Bean.”
Bleep-bleep! Bleep-bleep! Bleep-bleep! Bleep-bleep!
Dean’s eyes shoot open, and his hand automatically flies in the general direction of his alarm clock.
7:06
“Huh,” he thinks aloud. “Weird dream... did she call me Bean?”
