A Whole New World

Author's notes: The first few chapters are going to take place on Earth so I can get a decent backstory and describe the events leading up to the protagonist ending up in Equestria. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

It was an unusually cold Autumn this year. The rain pattered against the window, and made puddles in the road. The days were getting shorter, and the morning was still bleak and dark.

I thought today would just be normal, like every other day. I got up, had breakfast, washed, and got into some formal clothes. Despite being normal, today was still very important, I had a list of companies I had to get to for application interviews. I know, twenty years old and I still didn't have a job! It's fairly easy to explain:

It was no secret that the British economy wasn't doing well. Unemployment was still rising, especially amongst young people. I had been looking for a job, every day, for the best part of 4 months now, but it wasn't a surprise that I wasn't getting anywhere.

As I drove into town, I took a moment to think about this country. The British were always known for their ability to make do with what they had and not be bothered by a lot of stuff, in fact, we were almost famous for it. But life must've seen this as an excuse to give us all the bad luck. As I watched the rain spatter on my windscreen, it's noise drowning out the sound of the engine, I sighed to myself. Typical British weather.

My first interview was for a job as a receptionist. Not the most exciting career, I know, but it was better than nothing. At least I would be getting paid until I had enough fitness to apply for the Royal Marines. I walked into the building and wasn't even given the chance to approach the front desk before I was approached by a thin, short woman in a crisp office suit.

"Name?" She said, looking down at a clipboard.

"Um, Douglas Jones." I replied, a little taken aback by how blunt this woman was.

The woman flicked through the papers on her clipboard, before looking at me again and saying, "Follow me please."

I was led up some stairs and down an endlessly long hallway before entering a small room with a table, two chairs, and a dead plant in the corner. She told me to take a seat and promptly left.

I must have waited for an hour, before a large man in another suit waddled into the office. He walked over to the other chair and somehow managed to wedge himself into it. It wasn't far from the front door to this room, but he was still perspiring from the effort. I stood up and offered my hand for him to shake, but he just told me to sit down. I recognised this kind of body language like I had in countless other interviews. He wasn't interested in me, why would he want to recruit a twenty year old kid when there were other adults out there who were also after the job. I would just cause trouble, not learn anything and leech money from the rich people.

God I hate my stereotype.

The interview was fairly uneventful, I'd danced this routine dozens of times before. Same questions: Why are you here? What are you hoping to acheive? Where do you expect to see yourself in five years?

I answered the questions almost automatically, and in all honesty, I was bored. After what seemed like an eternity, the man somehow unstuck himself from the chair and thanked me for taking the time to see them. Don't be fooled, he was acting the same way so many others had. He'd already decided; he wasn't going to accept me, he was going for the cocky, 37 year-old arsehole with disposable income who only needed to support his own life banging hookers!

Wow, that was unexpected. I'm a lot better than I was, but I was cynical for a long time. When I was about 13, I hated everything. The media certainly didn't help, only talking about the economic decline or the death of another soldier overseas. One day I just stopped caring, and became one more pessimistic kid. It was only recently that I became more open-minded when I realised that there was no point complaining about stuff you couldn't change.

I suppose old habits die hard.

Christ, what a day! Six interviews, and each one as boring as the rest. I don't know how all of them went, only that I couldn't guarantee a place with any of them. After the interview with the fat guy, I went to the local Tesco. They needed people to work the counters and by the looks of it, that would be my most promising application. The other four were for jobs that needed some form of qualification, so I doubt I would get those. Even though I had more than enough to meet their requirements, they would probably do what the first guy did and go for someone older.

I was contemplating all of this on the way home. I really hope I got a job soon. I was getting too old to live with my parents, and if I didn't find an apartment or something I would have to start paying rent. That was one of the main reasons I needed a job. It was also to just support my family in general. My brother Christian was only a couple of years older than me, so he was facing the same problem I was. My parents didn't have the best jobs. They didn't get paid much, but it was enough to pay the bills and keep the food cupboard full. Regardless, I still felt guilty for not being able to do more.

Suddenly I spotted the turning into my village coming up, and wondered where the rest of the journey went. It's wierd when you do something so second-nature, you forget what you're doing. As I pulled into my driveway, I noticed there were no other cars there. I would have the house to myself for a while, at least I could take comfort in that. I forced all the thoughts I'd had on the trip home out of my mind. Now that I was back, I could get some tea, put my feet up... and start looking for more jobs. I sighed to myself; it gets so mundane sometimes.

As I unlocked the door to my family's house I was greeted by a familiar and friendly sight: my terrier jumping up at me. She was an awesome dog, twelve years old and she acted like she was half that age. I gave her a smile and a hug as I set my keys on a hook by the door.

I was just boiling the water in the kettle, when my phone vibrated. I normally didn't get many texts; most of my friends had moved on and I only talked to them through Facebook. My family members were also quite independant, and would only contact me if they needed serious help with something.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket and selected the new message. What I read made the blood in my veins run cold.

Doug
Need you to get to Swindon Hospital now! Mum involved in car accident. Going to contact Dad
Chris

Fuck! My brother would normally use text language when he wanted to contact me, so he must've been serious. He wasn't one to pull pranks like this either.

I didn't even switch off the kettle, I raced to the back door and grabbed my car keys off the wall. My dog looked at me with raised ears.

"Sorry Nikki, I need to go somewhere. Don't worry, I'll be back soon." I told her. She cocked her head and let out a small whine. I swear, that dog understands everything I say. I gave her a small smile as I shut the door behind me and locked the it.

I don't think I've ever driven that fast before. I was lucky I didn't get pulled over for speeding. As I saw the hospital I pushed a little further down on the pedal. I pulled into the car park and found a space in record time.

I had to force myself to slow down as I walked through the front doors of the hospital. I went up to the front desk where the receptionist gave me a look of sympathy upon noticing my panicked expression.

"Who are you here for?" she asked

"Eliza Jones" I replied.

She spent a moment looking on her computer, then said, "She's still in A&E, but you should be able to see her. She's on the first floor, room 26."

I thanked her and made my way to the stairs. I was too busy thinking about what could have happened that I almost walked straight into a doctor coming the other way. I ignored the grunt of annoyance from him as I reached the first floor and carried on down the hall. When I found the right room, I walked straight in without even knocking.

My brother was sitting next to a bed, with my mother lying there. She managed a weak smile as I entered, and my brother got up and walked over to explain her condition.

"How is she, Chris?" I asked

"The injuries she got weren't too bad," Christian said in a hushed voice, "She's got some scatches on her face from the glass and her left wrist is broken. She's going to recover from those, but the doctors said there was... something else."

My heart skipped a beat, that didn't sound good. I was about to inquire when a tall man in a white coat entered carrying some x-ray photos.

He looked at me and Chris and said, "Could I speak to you, privately?"

He was probably the best person to get answers from, so I followed him further down the hall while Chris stayed with Mum. When we reached an area where there were no other staff or patients, he showed me the x-rays.

"We located a fracture in the left wrist. I'm sure you already know about that." He said, showing me an x-ray of my mother's hand. He then moved the photo to the back to show the next one, this time of her ribcage, "It was when we were scanning her torso for additional injuries we noticed this." He pointed to a section of the ribs. Upon closer inspection, I realised what he was pointing at. A lump, about the size of an orange, and fainter than the white glow of the bones, was sitting in the area where my mum's lung would be. I had studied science, and I knew what it was. I just didn't want to believe it.

"She's got cancer?"

"Yes. We noticed this tumor after a second scan. Judging from the size, it's already several months old. In all honesty, I'm surprised she's still walking around in her condition."

"Isn't there a way you can treat it?"

"I'm afraid not. It's already passed the stage of treatment, and any attempt now would do more harm than good. The only thing we can do for her is make her as comfortable as possible."

I had a habit of being fairly placid, but I was only just managing to keep myself standing at this point. "How long does she have?"

"Not long. My best guess would be about six months. She doesn't know. I'm very sorry, but there isn't much else we can do."

I didn't know what to say or feel as I walked back to the ward. When I got there I silently asked my brother to come outside with me. When he did I just broke down, and told him everything. He pulled me into a hug, and I could hear him fighting back the tears. Dad arrived shortly after, and we told him too. It just ended up as three men crying into each other's shoulders.

After we'd calmed down we went back into the room, where mum had been waiting for us patiently. I always admired that about her; no matter how long you took, she was always willing to wait. We eventually plucked up the courage to tell her what was going on, and she just listened to all of it. After all this time I still don't know how she was so calm about it. It was like she had known it was coming, and simply accepted it.

We all stayed with her that night. Dinner was chocolate bars and water from the vending machines, and we slept in some chairs we took from the waiting room. None of us wanted to leave my mother's side. Morning came eventually though, and dad had to leave. He had a job to get to, and his clients weren't going to wait forever.

His final words to us before he left were: "Don't worry, we'll get through this."