Waking Up

by DarkSeqvus

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human, Original Character, Adventure
Length: 8429

A young man finds himself in a small town in a strange world. That's all well and good, except for two complications: one, the town is apparently the home of magic ponies, and two, the town is completely deserted...

A young man wakes up in a strange, empty town, with no idea of how he came to be there or why the town (which is inhabited by ponies??) is seemingly abandoned.

Things only become more complicated when he realizes that he won't be leaving the town anytime soon, leaving him with no choice but to explore the town in the hopes of discovering a way out, or at least the truth behind the town's mysterious state.

This story is inspired by a certain computer game from the mid-90s. I won't be saying which one, in order to delay spoilers for as long as possible. (...OK, fine, it's Leisure Suit Larry 6. Maybe.)

First fiction. Rated Teen for language. Advance apologies for the inevitable moments of suck. For now there is only one character; if in later chapters more appear, I will add their respective icons.

If anyone is willing to pre-read or help me with later chapters, or can suggest/provide cover art, I'll be most grateful.

Published 2013-12-05 05:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-05 05:20:04 UTC

Prologue: ...Wherein Nezzy decidedly does NOT flip out

Prologue:
...Wherein Nezzy decidedly does NOT flip out

The young man stood with a grim expression on his face as he contemplated the swirling vortex before him. It was fairly large, nearly the size of a small cabin, and it simply... gaped open in the middle of the air, filling most of his field of view with an inky, blue-black void that, if he looked closely, seemed to be dotted with distant stars.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, running a hand idly over his messy, brown hair.

This is stupid, and you're stupid for going ahead with it, he thought to himself.

"Mmhm."

He stood for another minute, staring into the vaguely hypnotic depths of the vortex. It floated only several feet away in the open space, threateningly, tauntingly. It did not move, but it seemed to beckon, as if to say, Come on if you think you're hard enough.

...You're just going to do it anyway, aren't you.

The young man's face broke into a lopsided, irreverent grin. "Well, of course! At this point, there's no way I won't be jumping headlong into the horrifying rip in the fabric of space and time, is there?"

Well, it doesn't look too bad, but—

"Besides," he added, turning to look all around him, "It's not really like there's anything more than can be done here, right?" The smile faded to a more wistful expression. "If we can't do any good here..." He turned back to the chaotic phenomenon. "...We can at least hope that we can do something there."

I suppose. Assuming there even is a "there", and that we can reach it...

"True. But you know, I'd say we no longer have the option of stalling for time here. Don't you think so?"

The young man's inner voice replied with only a brief chuckle.

"Nothing to it but to do it, as the saying goes."

Fair enough. Alrighty, let's get this shitstorm underway.

Nezzy woke up with a start.

Eyes unblinking, he stared blankly at the wooden surface before him. It took several seconds before he could form a coherent, unnerved thought.

That is not my ceiling.

He sat up with a sudden jerk, nearly falling off the bed—

This is not my bed.

—And looked frantically around the room.

This is most definitely not my room.

Nezzy took a ragged breath. The rush of adrenaline from whatever inner trigger had woken him already had his heart pounding, and his disorientation was really not helping.

As he scanned the room, a few details made it through the confusion and lodged in his mind. The bed, on which he had been lying at a weird angle, was surprisingly short, only coming up to around his knees. The room itself seemed to be made—no, carved—entirely from wood: the ceiling, the walls, the floor. There was a rounded window through which tree branches were visible.

Nezzy turned around. Part of the room was not enclosed, opening into a large, open chamber that went down to the floor below. It also seemed to be carved from wood—with what appeared to be tree rings spanning the floor—and it had a number of pieces of furniture against the walls: a writing desk, tables, a hutch, and bookshelves carved into the wall.
And, worryingly, there was no one in sight.

"Hello?" Nezzy called out nervously. When he was answered with silence, he tried, more strongly, "Is there anybody there? Hello?" There was still no response, or at least none that could be heard over the heartbeat drumming in his ears.

He stumbled his way down a staircase to the main floor. He could now see a French door—a glimpse showed it led to a balcony—and a passage leading the floor below. Continuing downward, he entered another large room, this one furnished with only a small table in the center and a book stand off to the side. There were also more bookshelves carved into walls, almost all the way around. There was another passage leading further downward, but opting not to explore a strange basement, Nezzy called out again from the entryway, again with no luck.

Moving to another oval-shaped window, Nezzy could see some small buildings nearby, houses. He quickly made his way to the undersized door and exited. Outside he couldn't see any roads, just stretches of grass between buildings.

Still on edge, Nezzy walked a few hesitant steps before raising his voice.

"HELLOOOO! IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE?"

A faint echo rang out and quickly faded as a stiff breeze disturbed the still air.

A note of desperation entered Nezzy's voice as he tried again. "HEEEEEEY! IS ANYONE TH—"

WHAP

A newspaper, propelled by the sudden wind, smacked Nezzy across the face, abruptly cutting him off. After a moment's pause, his hand started reaching towards his face, but the paper was blown away again.

In that brief moment, his face had transformed dramatically. The panic had disappeared from his eyes, replaced with an irritated look. His mouth now sported a small scowl.

Nezzy took a deep breath and exhaled noisily through his nose. Already his pulse was showing dramatically, and his legs felt much more solid. The confusion was still there, but it was overshadowed by an annoyed calmness as he replayed the last several minutes in his mind.

Looking around again, calmly, he could see a number of small houses—cottages?—as well as a clock tower and what was likely a town center not far away.

He stood for another minute, thinking, and then, calmly, he turned back to the door he had just used.

"Fuck this noise, I'm going back to sleep."

Author's Note

This is a bit of an experiment, not just because it's my first time writing ANY kind of fiction in a very long time (read "years and years"), but because I'm attempting to write a story in which, essentially, there is exactly one character (and a fairly sucky one at that). That will make this very tricky, considering how I don't have the luxury of cutting away to someone different (and less sucky). So, yeah. Sincere apologies. If we're lucky the concept will carry itself...?

Also, THATCHED-ROOF COTTAGES!!! #trogdor

Chapter 1: ...Wherein Nezzy looks down, then up

Chapter 1:
...Wherein Nezzy goes out, looks down, then up

Back indoors, Nezzy glared at his watch as he leaned against a wall in the second floor living space. A few minutes past 10:00. He sighed. It had been a decent dramatic line, in his opinion, but there was no chance of getting to sleep at this point, even if he was so inclined. No, he was going to have to face this day, and try to figure out where he was. He certainly didn't remember anything before waking up in a strange bed, in a strange library, not even whether he gone to sleep in his own bed, in his own apartment, or had somehow blacked out somewhere.

He glanced down at himself. At least there was something familiar. The green–grey pullover shirt was his; the brown cargo pants were his; the well–worn, yet serviceable black sneakers were definitely his. Nezzy smiled as his eyes roved the numerous scuff marks decorating their surfaces.

There's nothing quite like a good pair of shoes, he mused.

His expression quickly soured, however, as he felt his pockets.

Crap, nothing. No phone, no wallet, not even keys. Well, to be fair, the keys would probably be completely useless… as opposed to only being next–to–useless like the rest.

Nezzy's next realization prompted a frustrated groan. And no iPod. Great. Just great. No iPod and no phone. So no music. Friggin' lovely.

He frowned as he glanced around the room. This place is obviously lived in, he thought, but there's no sign of whoever lives here. All I have to work with is an empty… tree? The frown deepened as his brain finished processing what he had seen inside and out. The carved wooden rooms, the rings on the floor, the…"organic" structure… This place is… carved out of a tree?

He shook his head. I'm getting ahead of myself. The best thing to do is to work my way through this place, step by step. Things are already weird enough without me confusing myself more.

His gaze drifted to the room—the loft?—above. With a sigh, he pushed himself back to his feet.

"Well, I guess it's time to take stock…"

Nezzy was once more in the bedroom. Bedloft. Whatever. He first turned his focus on the bed, which was, on reflection, not just short, but small. Aside from the size, it appeared to be perfectly normal, but it came just short of a twin-size bed. The bedspread featured stars and crescent moons on a blue background.

He looked at the bed thoughtfully. It could be a kid's bed, except…

He glanced around the room. The room was too… utilitarian to belong to a kid. The other items in the room were simple: a wooden bookcase, a floor mirror, a short nightstand to match the bed, and a small dresser at the top of the stairs. On a magenta rug by the bed was a small basket, like for a small pet. The bedspread appeared to be the most decorative item in the room. The walls were marked only with etchings of swirling branches, leaves, and flowers, hanging from the walls were one cuckoo clock and, above the bed, a pair of horseshoes, and the nightstand held only a grey stone bust of a unicorn's head.

Nezzy cocked an eyebrow as he shot an eye between the horseshoes and the bust before taking a look at the bookcase. He wasn't ready to start flipping pages, but the shelves' contents looked like substantial volumes.

Okay, so not a child's room. Maybe a midge—a dwar—a "little person"? He glanced around the room again, at the inside walls of the tree. A wry smile spread across his face. "Or maybe I've found the home of the Kebler Elves," he said out loud. After a moment, he frowned. "Actually, I should probably hold onto that thought. I might need it…"

Nezzy almost missed the ledge that went around the wall behind the bed. A quick look revealed a second loft, full of boxes, cushions, and assorted pieces of furniture, including a couch and a second (also small) bed.

Having seen everything that did not require poking at private property—he winced inwardly at the alliteration—Nezzy returned to the main floor of the living area. He scanned the room's features more closely.

Immediately next to the stairs going down was a dark red writing desk, with two shelves, one filled with books, the other with shockingly neat stacks of paper, small golden jars, and… feathers?

"Huh, quills," Nezzy muttered. "Looks like someone hasn't invented the ballpoint pen, yet…"

The surface of the desk was far less neat. Papers and scrolls were scattered all over, covered in unintelligible writing, diagrams, and other scribbles. Nezzy frowned as he lifted a page of notes from the mess. He couldn't understand any of it, but could that just be because of the handwriting? He slid a book from the larger of the two shelves and cracked it open, only to see page after page of unreadable text.

"Uh oh…" he murmured in an apprehensive voice. Returning the book to its place, he took a quill from the desk and, after searching in vain through the desk's contents, rolled up his left sleeve. He gave his arm a series of quick scratches with the quill before putting it down. After several seconds, the skin started turning red, until the word "TESTING" became clearly visible.

"Okay, so I don't have brain damage," he said with some relief, then added, looking at the angry red lines on his skin, "…Well, probably." He focused on the desk again. "Seriously, though. Quills? I suppose there's gotta be a bottle of ink somewhere, too… But no pens, huh?" Not that writing utensils should be high on my priority list right now…

Also in the main room was a round wooden table, which sat below a large window with yellow curtains, shelves with dishes, a fireplace decorated with another horseshoe—Nezzy narrowed his eyes at it—and, what a shock, more bookshelves.

Before heading downstairs, Nezzy thoughtfully eyed a small doorway to the side of the desk. It led to a passage that curved along the outside wall of the room.

"Well, someone lives here, and they have a bedroom, so there must be…"

"Ahhhhhh…" Nezzy exhaled over the fading sound of running water as he returned to the main room and started down for the ground floor. "Thank God for indoor plumbing. And especially for hot running water. …Also toilets."

A glimpse on the way to what turned out to be the bathroom had also revealed a small kitchen, where he spent several minutes checking out the cabinets and stove, and several more minutes examining a finely decorated cupboard that, to his astonishment, turned out to be a refrigerator. Aside from its deceptive appearance, two things stuck out about it: that it did not seem to be plugged into a electrical socket, and that it was almost completely empty, save for a half-empty bottle of ketchup, a bundle of flowers, and a few other mostly empty containers.

"Geez, swap the flowers with an old pizza box, and you've got a college dorm fridge," Nezzy had muttered before resuming his way down the corridor.

Now that he was back downstairs, Nezzy tried to sort through his thoughts.

Okay, first off: this must be a public library, judging from how front-and-center this room is in this… tree. He frowned. Well, also, I saw a sign out front. Granted it just had a picture of a book on it, but still…

So it's a library. They… put a library in a tree? He ran a thumbnail over the surface of the wall. It didn't feel to him like dead lumber, but living tree tissue. They put a library in a living tree? An amused grin began spreading across his face. They put a library in a living tree… and then installed indoor plumbing? Ha!

Okay, so someone lives upstairs, over the library. Most likely the librarian, since I can't imagine anyone else being entrusted with that kind of thing. The contents of her desk show that she's hella neat and organized, maybe compulsively, but that's just guessing. On the other hand, the crap-ton of notes scattered all over—and the nigh-empty fridge—indicate that she probably gets completely wrapped up in her—

Wait.

"She"? Why the hell do I think it's a "she"? Nezzy's brow furrowed as he looked up and started looking around in bewilderment. His eye quickly caught on the stairs going up.

…Stairs that sported a very distinctive design. One that was heavy on heart shapes. Nezzy's expression went flat.

"Ah. Yeah, that'd do it. No self-respecting male would have their place decorated like that…"

His gaze shifted from the stairs to a glass display case that stood to one side. He wandered closer, until he could see the contents. Or lack thereof, rather. Inside, on bright pink fabric, were six shallow indentations, empty spaces where some… items may have recently sat. Whatever they had been, they were gone now.

Nezzy turned away. His eyes fell on the circular table in the center of the room.

"I think I'm sensing a theme here," he said dryly as he took in the prominent, wooden horse-head bust.

Idly, he turned to a shelf and began flipping through one of the books. As expected, the text was just as unreadable as in the book upstairs. He sighed.

Well, I think I've seen all I'm going to here, at least without rifling through drawers, and, according to the laws of narrative causality, the Librarian will come in just as I get started and bust me, heh… I guess that means my next step will have to be—ugh—checking out the town. Especially if I don't want to be stuck eating flowers and ketchup for lunch… Ugh…

Well, if there ever was a time…

With a groan of resignation, Nezzy turned to leave. Then paused.

"Okay, why would you put a picture of a freaking candle on your library door?"

Outside, Nezzy took a deep breath through his nose. The air smelled odd, unnatural. Everything around was impossibly still. There was no sign of life or movement as far as he could see, and he could hear no sound outside of his own breathing, not even in the distance. The breeze that had blown earlier had disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared.

He cleared his throat nervously, then again, more firmly. It couldn't hurt to try one more time, right?

"HEL-LOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOO!" he bellowed, voice no longer tinged with fear, but with an obnoxious, demanding tone. The shout echoed between the few nearby houses before finally dying out, once again leaving the deathly silence.

Nezzy sighed again, then shuddered. Despite the apparently good condition of the buildings, the lifeless atmosphere created an ominous feeling of desolation. "Boy, if I ever needed my music, it'd be now…" Oh, well. I'll have to make do with the next best thing, I guess.

He set his gaze towards the tall, circular building in the distance. The houses became more dense in that direction, forming streets. He began walking down towards one the streets, his footfalls loud in the otherwise still air. He began to hum quietly, in time with his footsteps. After a few bars, he raised his voice.

I'm waking up, to ash and dust
I wipe my brow as I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals…

As he climbed the hill towards the town center, he checked out the houses he passed. No two buildings looked the same, but they all appeared to be sturdy, timber-framed structures, and Nezzy was surprised how sophisticated some of the designs were. While many of them were of a nondescript color, some of them were brightly painted and decorated, often with more horseshoes, hearts, and—oddly enough—apples. What's more,instead of the rectangular box shapes he was expecting, he saw elaborate designs which included balconies, overhangs, dormers and… What's the word? Dammit, Wikipedia, where are you when I freaking need you? …Sounds like 'jets'… jetters… jetties? Why do I even know that much? Anyways, they're really deep. Is that supposed to be normal? By this time, Nezzy had finished the song and was absently looping through the first verse.

He turned a few corners and found himself at the end of a long aisle of market stalls. They were rather nicely decorated, at that, with colorful tents and signs. There were also a number of vendor carts here and there. Nezzy strolled down the rows, checking out the wares. They were familiar enough, ranging from produce—an absurd number of vendors were selling apples, it looked like—to baked goods to cooking utensils and more. They all seemed to be open, aside from the fact that no one tending to any of them, let alone shopping.

The sight of food reminded Nezzy of his empty stomach, and he cautiously took an apple from a cart. He turned it over in his hands, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but it looked normal enough. In fact, it looked as good as any apple he had ever seen.

He sank his teeth into the skin and let the juice trickle into his mouth. It tasted fresh and sweet, and as he bit down harder, he was rewarded with a crisp sound and a rush of juices.

Nezzy chewed and swallowed slowly, then finished off the apple in three more large bites. Placing the core on the counter of the stall, he turned his attention to the other notable feature of the marketplace.

The bags.

Here and there, on counters, right on the ground, empty, spilling vegetables and other assorted contents, were bags, sacks, and satchels, completely abandoned. Oddly, they were all in pairs, each set attached by a strap that went between the two open ends. They were strewn throughout the area, as if a large crowd of market-goers had dropped everything and fled.

"Did they know I was coming and run? If they did," he said, warily scanning around for signs of life, "they must be keeping an eye on things—on me, right?" His gaze went past the stalls, to the streets and alleys beyond them, while he started tucking apples into his cargo pockets. "So, where are you guys—"

Look down.

Nezzy's eyes froze in midsweep, then dropped to the ground. Then they slowly widened, as his brows arched skyward and he inhaled slowly through his teeth.

The ground was hard, but there was enough dirt to see footprints, lots of them. Nezzy started backtracking along his own footprints as he looked at the others with growing disbelief.

As far as he could see, throughout the entire space, his own prints were the only ones that could not be better described as "hoofprints". The hoofprints went back and forth down the line of stalls, overlapping with each other, crowding in front of the counters—just as shoppers would leave. On a hunch, Nezzy leaned over a counter, and as expected, there were more hoofprints, indicating a four-legged, hoofed creature had been standing, shuffling a bit over time.

With an apprehensive feeling in his chest, he started back in the direction he came from. He couldn't help looking over his shoulder as he approached the next street, but there was still no sign of life, hooved or otherwise.

"Okay, then… So is this town inhabited solely by horses?"

More like ponies. Check the size of the hooves.

"But… that doesn't make sense! The library… those notes…" He waved a hand towards a house as he passed it. "Their doors have freakin' doorknobs, for crying out loud! Can they really be… ponies?"

Do you have a better guess?

Nezzy furrowed his brow as he thought. As he reached the corner, his absently hung on a skateboard—no, it had handlebars, albeit very short ones—lying on its side.

"…Maybe they're centaurs? Really… short… centaurs."

A centaur couldn't sleep in that bed.

"And a pony could?"

At least a pony doesn't have a ninety-degree angle halfway down its spine.

"Oof, that's a fair point.” Nezzy shuddered at the mental image. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, then added, "Now that you mention it, whoever came up with centaurs must have known jack shit about anatomy. I mean, even setting aside the spine thing, it would have, what, two ribcages? What would the second one have inside it?"

It wouldn't be a second pair of lungs… Could it have two hearts?

"Well… yeah, but why would you put them in separate ribcages? Anyway, if one of the ribcages— Wait, which ribcage would the hearts be in?"

It would have to be the top one, so they're closer to the brain.

"Right, right. So if one of the ribcages is missing most-to-all of its typical organs, what's in there instead?"

There was a long pause, with no answer in sight.

After a moment, Nezzy continued, "Also, how much stronger do a centaur's front legs have to be to support the torso, compared to a horse."

That's a question for people who ride on horses' shoulders instead of their backs.

"That can't be comfortable for anyone."

I should say not. A pause. …Do you think K. A. Applegate ever had to answer these questions?

"If and when we ever get home, you can write her a goddamn… letter… Okay, why is this place so god-flipping heavy-handed with the hearts? And the pink? Seriously, how skewed can the female-to-male ratio be for it to get like this? I mean, it's just a fence, for crying out loud!"

"…Okay, why do they just randomly have a hot air balloon sitting in the street? What purpose can it possibly serve here?"

"…Okay, why is there a store that just sells quills and—oh, wait. Never mind, I get this one. They probably just have an incredible feather supplier or something…"

"Alrighty, this is a café… and it has no chairs." Nezzy eyed the strategically placed piles of straw at each table. "Actually, there weren't chairs in the library either. Well, except for one rocking chair and one stool in that storage room… So, maybe they can't sit in chairs? That fits with the four-legs thing well enough… But chairs still exist here, so… okay?"

He turned his attention to the food left on the tables. It seemed simple enough at first glance, a half-eaten salad and a sandwich in a similar state. (Nezzy reflexively growled at the alliteration.) However, on closer inspection, he saw a surprising ingredient: flowers.

"Huh. Well, that puts the flowers in the Librarian's fridge in a different light, doesn't it?"

"…Okay, why do they have a freaking gingerbread house-store?"

"…Okay, why do they have a goddamn bowling— Actually, you know what? I don't care. I just don't care. This is my not-caring face right here."

After roaming through the streets—some more than once, accidentally—Nezzy finally arrived at the town square. He noted the tall town hall building, but he didn't immediately approach it; there was something else he was looking for now.

After leaving the market, he had become more aware of items that had been dropped in the street, such as more of the odd satchels, children's toys, and other things. What had struck him, after a while, was that the lost items didn't look like they had been thrown down or tossed aside by a fleeing populace; they had simply been dropped in the street. That gave Nezzy a bad feeling, so he started keeping a closer eye on the foot—hoofprints—on the ground. He wouldn't be able tell much from the prints in the high-traffic areas, especially whether they were running or walking, but he could see there had been no organized mass evacuation, and the stuff that was abandoned in the streets hadn't been trampled in any stampede.

Which made his search all the more urgent.

So now he scanned the ground, looking for a patch of relatively untouched earth, which he finally found around the side of the town hall. There was a single set of hoofprints, uncrossed by other prints, and smaller than most he'd seen. A child had come this way, perhaps. The reason why was all but unfathomable, but it didn't matter now.

What did matter was that the trail of footprints came to an end.

"There you are," Nezzy murmured grimly as he knelt over the end of the trail to get a better look. There was no change in the prints as they approached the spot, not even to indicate the child had jumped into the air and flown away somehow.

"So," he said, heaving himself to his feet, "they didn't run away. They just straight-up disappeared. Right in the middle of their day, in the middle of their day-to-day life—poof, huh?" He flexed his shoulders a bit to loosen them. "Well, at least it's not like I'm not scaring them all off, then—"

Behind you.

Nezzy stiffened for a brief moment, then turned to look across the open square. There were a number of buildings around the edge of the plaza, including some tent-like structures, but in the middle of the area was a silhouette, an unusual one. It had four legs, hooves, and a mane and tail. It was reared up, with its front hooves waving in the air, and it was a pinkish clay color. It also had the biggest eyes Nezzy had ever seen.

"Well, there goes my centaur idea, huh?"

Not necessarily. It could be one of their gods. Maybe somewhere else in town there's another fountain, with a statue of a super deformed human.

"Okay, now you're just making shit up."

No comment.

Nezzy climbed up onto the edge of the fountain to get a better look at the statute. "Seriously, though, do they really look like this? Those eyes are freaking huge."

I don't think I like the way it's smiling at us.

Nezzy hopped back down. Having found the prints, he wasn't expecting results, but it couldn't hurt to check the town hall anyway. As he approached the door, however, he happened to look up at the roofs of the buildings in the distance. He chuckled.

"Hey, look. The weathervane also has a pony—" He cut off when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He quickly scanned the sky for a long moment before he got another glimpse. Then another. Horror crept onto his face as realization hit, and he spun around. There was a path leading out of town, towards a forest in the distance, and he took off sprinting down it, crossing a small footbridge along the way. As he went, he started muttering urgently to himself.

"Please be wrong… Please be wrong, please be wrong… Please be wrong please be wrong please be wrong please be wrong… Come on, Z, do yourself a big, big favor and just—! Be—! WRONG!!"

"…Shit."

Nezzy was bent over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. The sprint had winded him fairly quickly, so he had alternated between walking and jogging until he had reached… here, where his fears had been confirmed. All along the straight path, there had only been a clear view to the forest, which in itself had been dark and foreboding, but paradoxically, he had started feeling hope and relief as the forest approached.
Until something else was suddenly in the way, blocking the path. When he had seen it, he pulled up short to observe it, as well as to catch his breath, as dread washed over him.

It was a wall. It had an odd visual quality that made it difficult to see without looking directly at it, with it disappearing at a certain distance and angle. Breathing more easily now, Nezzy started towards it at a walk, and more of the wall became discernible. The dread deepened as he watched the wall extend endlessly in all direction. Looking up and to either side, he could see it curve gradually around, until it led back towards the empty town.

It was also a dark pink color.

"A dome. It's a goddamn dome," he said dully. Now that he had confirmation, the pool of dread was beginning to diffuse, leaving behind only a feeling of grimness.

He walked until he was only a few feet away and stared at it. Now that he was up close, he noticed another strange occurrence. When he tried to look through the wall, the forest that he had seen so clearly before was blurred and hard to make out. Trying to focus on it only made his eyes water and sting. After a full minute of trying, Nezzy wasn't even sure he could see the forest anymore.

Frowning, he stepped back several feet. He spotted a small rock to the side of the road and palmed it, rolling it a bit with his thumb. He glared up at the wall, then wound back. He hesitated at a mental image of the rock being propelled at high speed at his skull, then turned at an angle before letting the rock fly at the wall.

At this point, he was barely surprised when the stone noiselessly struck the wall, then dropped straight down without bouncing backwards. He walked back up to the wall, tentatively prodded it with a finger, then pressed his palm against it. Or tried to, at least. He couldn't feel the surface, there was no pressure; it was if the entirety of his hand was stopped at the same time.

He took a half-step back and cocked a fist. He delivered it straight into the side of the dome, where it stopped cold against the "surface". The energy from the punch was instantly dissipated into the barrier, and Nezzy still couldn't "touch" it. He tried again, landing multiple touches, with increasing power, that were instantly drained of their potency. He stepped back with his other foot and began striking out rapidly and fiercely with both fists. As the punches flew, the scowl that appeared on his face grew deeper and madder, and a growl escaped his teeth. With a final roar, he delivered a haymaker, then stumbled back, once again breathing hard.

The total effect of his raging was nil; the barrier remained unchanged.

Nezzy glared at the wall as he calmed down from his… well, tantrum. His eyes went upward along its curve, until it faded from view overhead. Still pissed, he jabbed a finger at it.

"You know what? Fuck you, giant pink dome. Fuck you, and fuck the horse rode in on. It occurs to me," he continued in the same tone, still brandishing the finger, "that I probably shouldn't be using that expression around here." He shrugged. "I mean, not that there's anyone around to be offended, but still."

He rubbed his neck absently, then looked at the knuckles of his hand. "Well, on the upside, I probably didn't bruise my hands on that stunt, even if it was a complete waste."

He continued, "So, it's looking like this town has been completely sealed off from the outside. Or that's what I'm guessing until I actually can go around the whole thing." He sighed. "So, why is it sealed off? Am I in the middle of Magic Raccoon City? Oh my God, I better not be in the middle of friggin' Magic Raccoon City, that would make me yelling in the middle of the street the absolute worst idea ever. Seriously, good job, Mr. Trope Savvy." He stifled a brief impulse to look over his shoulder, back towards the town, and forced himself to relax. "Keep it together, Z. If you were going to be attacked by monsters or zombies, it would have happened already. …Probably.

"Alrighty, so the next step is to—literally—walk around the entire town. If there is any chance that there's a way through this thing, I need to look for it. Yikes." He checked his watch. "Okay, it's about one o'clock. I guess I've got a few hours I can spare out of my busy, busy schedule."

He started walking in one direction along the dome wall, stopped, took a few steps in the other direction, then paused a moment to chew on a knuckle thoughtfully.

"Fuck it, I'm going clockwise."

The next few hours were spent viewing a great deal of scenery. The dome wall led from in front of the forest entrance across grassy fields, through a barren area populated only by a varied assortment of rocks, into what had to be the largest expanse of apple trees he would ever see in his life. Nezzy found himself half thankful for the dome, if only because it kept him from getting hopelessly disoriented. Looking at the wall, he could just make out even more trees on the other side, before his eyes started stinging again.

There were some breaks in the mass of trees, thankfully. At one point Nezzy had to cross a stream—it was only later when it occurred to him to wonder how the water could be flowing out of the dome. Shortly after the steam, he came across a wide country road, from which he could see a farm a little ways down it, in the direction of the town. He'd have to come back and check it out at some point, preferably soon, but for now, he had to press on. The dense orchard was already slowing him down plenty as it was without making major detours.

In fact, it was nearly two hours since he’d set off when he finally cleared the apple trees, to find himself facing railroad tracks coming through the dome wall. He eyed the tracks warily, but after reaffirming the wall was still solid, he stepped across.

"Looks like service has been disrupted."

THANKS, DAVID CARUSO.

"Shut up."

Continuing on, he passed a road coming down a steep hill, narrowly avoiding a sheer drop off a cliff, then a river flowing down towards the town from a mountaintop lake—or at least that’s what it looked like through the pink barrier. This time he remembered to check out the flow through the dome wall, from a low point on the bank that was just close enough to reach it. The results were not helpful, however: while the dome still blocked his hand from pushing through, the water seemed to be coming right out of the wall. It vaguely reminded him of underwater inlets in swimming pools, only over a much wider area.

Frustrated, he pressed on, through more slightly forested areas—he was at least relieved to see that they weren’t fruit trees anymore, even if just for the variety. On the other hand, his stomach was being a full-on nuisance, since he hadn’t had a legitimate meal all day, only the one apple in the market, plus a few more off of the orchard trees as he passed by. Unfortunately, he had to make do with the fruit he had shoved in his pockets hours ago. Even if they were still a huge step up from flowers and ketchup, there was only so much apple he could take without anything else to go with it.

Eventually he emerged from these trees, as well, and was walking across grassy hills. Spotting the tracks again in the distance, he followed them with his eyes to a station. A little ways beyond it, he could just see a familiar tree standing at the edge of town. Continuing onward, the dome went around the back of a rather impressive hospital building, which was situation in an otherwise open field. Nezzy took a good look at the emblem on the sign out front as he passed by, a white equilateral cross on a red circle, with four small pink hearts in the corners.

Then there were more hills, with scattered trees, interrupted only by the railroad tracks on their way back out of the dome, plus a few roads coming from the direction of the town. Nezzy was humming intermittently to himself, in between grumbled complaints of boredom, as his eyes absently roved the landscape, on both sides of the wall. If he didn’t focus too hard on any particular feature, he could look at the mountains in the distance without his eyes burning. Flicking his gaze lightly around, he thought he could glimpse some kind of city built into the side of the mountain, but the barrier kept him from getting a good look at it. After trying for a solid minute he gave up and pressed on, muttering, "This is stupid, and I'm stupid for thinking of it."

The next notable feature of the landscape, around a half hour's walk from the hospital, was a moderately sized lake, with sandy banks and a wooden swing having from a nearby tree. Nezzy's mood lifted quickly, and he grinned on seeing the invitingly clear blue waters.

"Maybe some other day," he said, reluctantly pulling away from the bank. "Assuming it's safe to swim, anyway."

More grassy hills followed, and Nezzy started straying away from the wall, not far enough for it to disappear, but far enough to get a better lay of the land. Twenty minutes or so from the lake, just when Nezzy was starting to feel antsy again, something floating overhead caught him off-guard. It was fairly understandable that he had stopped keeping a close eye on the sky, considering the only notable feature for the past three-plus hours had been the dome, and he may have missed it entirely if he hadn't spotted the mailbox that stood all by itself, directly underneath it. Nevertheless, he kicked himself for not seeing it a mile off, since it didn't seem like something one could easily miss.

Seeing as how it was a flying house and all.

Technically, it looked like a cloud, but it was unmistakably in the shape of a house, albeit a rather fanciful, tower-like house. It had a classical look to it, complete with what looked like Ionic columns, but what really made it stand out—as much as a floating building could "stand"—were the rainbows. Two of them were cascading off the cloud like waterfalls, and they were even separating into drops as they fell towards the ground before disappearing. There was another that flowed around outside two of the floors, and one giant rainbow coming out from the domed roof before curving towards the ground.

Nezzy stared, his face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. Eventually, he regained his composure and addressed the cloud house, gesturing dramatically with one hand.

"I hereby dub thee... the 'Lisa Frank House'," he declared grandly. He observed it for another moment. "Don't worry, I won't actually be calling you that. You're not nearly retina-burningly sparkly enough. Good lord, that was a mouthful..."

He brought his gaze down to the mailbox on the ground. It was light blue, and the flappy arm dealie was a three-toned, lightning bolt-shaped rainbow, coming out of a white cloud. On impulse, he opened it up, but it was unsurprisingly empty.

Well, he thought to himself, I guess it could be pretty cool, having a floating house. If you're into rainbows, anyway. Not sure I'll be checking this place out anytime soo—whoa, pink trees.

A lot of things are sneaking up on you today, huh?

"Shut up."

Back on track, Nezzy was grateful for the new change in the landscape. Groves of trees with pink leaves covered rolling hills, with a few points of interest, such as a couple of country roads, a gazebo made from a few strategically placed trees, and a white barn, which, unfortunately, heralded the imminent return of the apple trees, prompting an aggravated groan.

For the following half hour or so, Nezzy was back to walking along the dome wall, trying to keep at a decent pace as he pushed through the orchard, but he reluctantly stopped to refill his pockets with apples after a protest from his stomach.

Eventually, the endless trees gave way to an open space with a few buildings, the outskirts of town, Nezzy guessed. He could see the dark forest just outside the dome, meaning he was just about finished with his walk, and a clock tower verified the time on his watch as he prepared to make a final push forward.

He stopped when he saw the cottage. Right near the wall, it was even more stereotypically fairy tale-like than anything else he'd seen that day. Well, aside from the cloud-house, at any rate. It sat at the end of a small footpath that crossed over a stream, and it had a roof covered in greenery, small, rounded windows, and a startling number of birdhouses mounted on and around the building. On his approach, Nezzy stumbled upon an animal burrow in the ground around the cottage—several times, in fact.

"I think Snow White must live here," he said dryly.

Less than ten minutes later, Nezzy was back at his starting point, in front of the (blocked) entrance to the forest. With a mixture of relief and satisfaction, he looked at his watch.

"Okay, that took about four and a half hours. I was going much slower than I do on pavement, so..." His eyes fluttered half-closed as he tried to calculate. "Maybe around four miles across?"

He sighed wearily, running a hand over his head. "Geez, what a way to spend an afternoon. But I guess I still have time to gather some foodstuffs before it starts getting—"

He cut off abruptly. Once more, the sky had a surprise for the young man: the sun was already setting in the sky over the town. Uncomprehending, he whipped his head around to look back at his watch. "The hell it's 7:30! It was just 5:30 two goddamn minutes ago!" He took off at a run in the direction of the town and, ultimately, the library tree. "Like balls I'm gonna be wavering around this place at night!"

As the town hall rose up before him, one thought passed through his mind.

Something is very wrong with this place.

Author's Note

Nezzy missed something ridiculously obvious in the library. He's going to kick himself so hard when he realizes it tomorrow morning. I'm sure you guys spotted it right away...

I decided I wanted to take as much as I feasibly could from the show, inventing as little as possible from scratch. The obvious problem is, duh, the inconsistencies are everywhere. I'll be doing my best to interpret as well as I can what I have to work with. For the layout of Ponyville, I'm heavily (but not totally) relying on the map drawn by Aurek Skyclimber (formally Aurebesh). I've added the swimming hole in the northeast and reimagined the distances in the outskirts—oh, and I'm basically ignoring where he put the marketplace.

Nezzy is basically going to state it outright in the next chapter (i.e. Journal 1), but I'm going to say it here, anyway. Nezzy does not hear voices. He does not have schizophrenia or any personality disorders, does not suffer from hallucinations (although I'm sure he's wondering if that's really true right now), is not possessed or psychic, and is not being pestered by his subconscious, like many depictions of Twilight Sparkle are. His "inner voice" is him—i.e. there is nothing that it says that isn't something he's thinking. He just likes to think in conversations. Think of it as him reading a dialog in a script, with him speaking both parts. And also writing them.

Please tell me if the walking around the wall is too drawn-out and sucky or not.

Journal 1: On isolation

Journal 1:
On isolation

Day 1, evening

So, since I'm running out of daylight, and apparently I was too dumb to look for a lamp or something, I guess I will have to save important details for tomorrow. But to summarize:

Woke up in strange, very empty town.

2. Town is (normally) inhabited by ponies(?) Why? Because magic, why not.

3. Town is sealed off by giant pink dome.

Definitely an exciting day.

I wonder if this might be how a castaway feels on a deserted island. Or maybe how an inmate feels in solitary confinement. Unlike the former, I won't have to scrounge for food and shelter, but no number of makeshift rafts will get my me out of here; unlike the latter, I have full run of the place, but I have to fend for myself.

Yippee. Freaking. Skippy.

Either way, I'm stuck here, and completely on my own. I don't really mind, at least not yet; I've always been pretty good at keeping myself entertained, and my habit of thinking in conversations will be handy in staving off the MIND-NUMBING BOREDOM. For a while, anyway. When I normally do it, there are still people around to talk to, so it's balanced out. But I don't have that here...
Which brings me to this journal. I am not a fan of journals at all. But without this, I'm liable to forget how to use "I" and "me" to refer to myself, and end up just using "we" and "us", and who needs that? (Would it be more correct to say "ourselves" or "ourself" in that case? How does royalty do it, anyway? ...Who even cares?)

Anyhow, I'm most liekly likely going to be spending a great deal of time exploring this place, so I won't be sitting on my ass, staring at the backs of my hands. So, with luck, the INSANITY of isolation won't hit me for quite some time. I guess I'm going to be trying to learn all I can about these ponies(?) and this town.

So far I don't think much of them, but that's more than likely the "having-to-write-with-a-freaking-quill" talking. Seriously, this thing is killing my fingers here. At least I was lucky enough to find a bottle of ink in one of the drwers drawers before it got too dark to look. And should I be blotting the ink or something, too? How does one even blot, anyway?? I bet tomorrow morning I'll find my hand covered in ink...

How the devil do ponies write with these things, anyway? And while we're on that, how do they type with boxing gloves on? And how do they pick stuff up if they're not wearing any Marzi
ok, that's enough of that.

Seriously, I just want a flipping ballpoint pen! Is it too much to ask?!

...There's a old story about the early days of the Space Race. They say the U.S. astronauts quickly discovered that their pens would not work in space. They go on to say that NASA then spent millions (possibly billions?) of dollars and a crap-ton of man-hours developing a solution, and in the end they created a pen with a pressurized ink cartridge, or something like that, that would work in zero gravity.

The Soviets used a goddamn pencil.

Note to self: Tomorrow, go find a goddamn pencil.

—NZ

Oh God I'm gonna be stuck here fo
nope, not doing this.

Author's Note

I should probably remind everyone that the story about the space pen is actually a myth... So...

The space pen story is a myth, guys.

The purpose of the journals is more or less as Nezzy implies, to break up the one-character narrative with a slightly different one-character narrative. While I am—by necessity—relying heavily on his thought-conversations, I need to break it up with something different, and this is it.

The bolded letters, like the random strike-through's, are meant to simulate how the writing might turn out if you were actually writing this stuff with a pen, an old-timey pen when you're not used to one. Let me know if that's not coming off right to you guys.