My Little SCP Foundation: Horror is Magic

The first thing I felt was agonizing pain. It engulfed my entire body, although my right wrist was the worst. It felt like all my muscles were on fire, and I was extremely tired. Then, as my senses slowly came to me, I felt a soft, comfortable mattress under me. I figured I was either on a bed or couch. I then remembered that this was the most comfortable I've ever been in the past nine months of being in jail. I grunted from the pain, but sighed blissfully as my body sunk even deeper into the incredibly soft cotton. All I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, and forget this entire nightmare. Or better yet, wake up from this entire nightmare.

My eyes started to slowly open, pain making me wince. I was fully expecting to see a gray, featureless prison cell ceiling above me. Instead, however, I got a yellowish-orangish ceiling above me, with a happy and calm feeling projecting from it. I marveled at its unique structure, the expert craftsmanship having my full attention. The pain in my wrist resurfaced, and I grunted as I moved my left hand over to caress the injured right one.

I didn't touch the familiar, weathered skin of my right hand, but fur. Soft, short fur. I instantly realized someone was holding my hand, with some type of furry glove. Actually, it felt more like a hoof.

"Oh, dear," I heard a hesitant, feminine voice say, close bye. "I didn't mean to wake you.. Please, tell me if you would like me to stop. I'm just trying to look at your wrist.."

I figured I was in some type of doctor's-- or, nurse's, office. I heard once from my jail buddies that you should always remain calm in these situations; sometimes, when an experiment went wrong, you would wake up with a nasty wound. The nurses were almost always already working on it when you woke up, and the more you moved, the harder you made their job.

I sighed outwardly, and put my left hand over my eyes. It felt good to close them whenever I wanted to, again.

"Nurse, just tell me. Is my wrist broken?" I asked. Better to get straight to the point than to act like it's not happening.

I was expecting a "yes." Or even a response. All I got was silence. Frustration started to get the best of me. Then, after a few seconds of nothing, she spoke up.

"You.. can talk?" the feminine voice stuttured.

Confused, I looked over to the nurse. My mouth opened, but before any words came out; my entire body froze.

There, standing just one foot away, holding my broken hand, stood a technicolor pony, with big, blue eyes. Her coat was light yellow, and she had a long and cartoonish mane, which was light pink. Come to think about it, everthing about her seemed cartoonish. Her light yellow coat was a flawless, single shade. Same with her mane, except for the occasional thin, black line running down it.

Wait, are those wings?

        My wide eyes shifted from her face to the two, oval shaped, feathered wings on her sides.

A pegasus. I had woken up in a yellow, pink-maned, cartoon pegasus' house. Either the nurse has me on some pretty wacky medication, or I'm going crazy.

No, I didn't feel loopy or funny at all. This is no medication. The countless hours of being alone, in the darkness must have gotten to my head.

        She shifted uncomfortably, and averted her gaze from me. I quickly noticed that I kind of blacked out a little, staring at her sides.

        A couple seconds passed, without a word being shared. Finally, I figured so should break the tense silence. I eased a friendly smile on my face. "Hi," I said simply.

        The very fact I could speak must have really spooked her; she was hiding her face behind her mane. "H-hi.." She stammered quietly.

        More time passed. More awkward silence.

        "I'm..." she started, but then said something so quiet it was intelligible. It sounded something like "Fmudderspy," but I didn't bet that was her name. Or anyone's name, to be specific. Unless their parents were drunk Germans. I shifted a little, raising one eyebrow. "I'm.." She started again, but then whispered under her breath again. I sighed.

        "I won't hurt you," I said with a smile. That seemed to put her on ease, but not a lot. "I'm 378b."

        She looked up at me, tilting her head. "378b?" She questioned quietly. "Your name is a number..?"

        "Well, that's actually my.." I stopped mid-sentence. I didn't want her to think I was a criminal on the run. That was the last thing she needed right now. "...nickname."

        "That sure is a weird nickname.." Her voice was slightly less scared. "What's your real name?"

       I never told anyone that. Only the people closest to me. "..I don't remember," I lied. That was probably one of the more realistic answers. I was most likely unconscious when she found me, so I could fake an amnesia-related accident. "I must've hit my head pretty hard.. Where am I, anyway?"

        The yellow mare was getting bolder, and was no longer hiding her face behind her mane. "You're in my house. I brought you up here after I found you unconscious on my porch.. Did you use magic to get here? It looks like you were teleported."

        I almost laughed. "Yeah." I said sarcastically, with a smile. "I came here by magic. I'm a wizard."

        Instead of a joking expression, the small equine had wonder in her eyes as she 'awww'd. "Is that why you have a weird name, 378b?"

        I was about to continue the joke, but I had a feeling in the back of my head it would somehow offend her later on. "I'm joking," I explained, with a smile to assure her it was all in good nature.

        She giggled. "Oh. ...Hm, I can't remember your name. 375p?"

        "378b," I corrected.

        "Oh. Can I just call you.. Seven?"

        I smiled, trying to relieve her tension and shyness. "Sure. I like it." She seemed a little more comfortable around me.

        "Well, until you remember your name, of course!" I mentally beat up myself. I was going to have to make up a story that involved a good amount of head-whacking so I could pass as permanetally forgeting my own name.

Her attention shifted from me to my wrist.

        I looked down at it. "Give it to me straight. Is it broken?"

        "I'm afraid so.. Sorry, Seven. Does it hurt?"

        It hurt like hell. But she didn't need to know that; she'll just feel bad for me. "A little. It's not too bad, though."

        The yellow equine nodded. "I'll go to the hospital, and come back with some supplies.." She then looked up at me, a little guilt in her voice. "If that's okay with you, of course!"

        I smiled. She was cute, the way she stammered.

In an animal way.

        "That'll be fine. Thanks."

        She nodded and smiled, looking down with a slight blush. As she exited the house (which, after a little examination, proved to be a small cottage), her wings unfolded.

        "I never caught your name," I stated, matter-of-factly. When she turned back to face me, I pasted another friendly smile to let her know I wasn't angry.

        She smiled sweetly. "I'm Fluttershy." With that, she took off, closing the door behind her

As I heard the wooden sound of the door closing, I sighed, and rubbed my temple.

Fluttershy, huh? ...Unique name. I was expecting something like 'Stacy,' or 'Jessica.' Heck, she looks like a 'Sarah.'

The moment my mind thought up the name "Sarah," I almost jumped out of the coach. My good hand was in my pants pocket in the spam of .5 seconds. When my hand clasped over the familiar thin paper, I sighed of relief. I slowly pulled out the comforting photo, and looked over it.

SCP-173's foot did cause some damage, but not a lot. The top was torn, but it wasn't over the body of the picture.

I smiled as I scanned the picture for the hundredth time. Connor's wondrous face, with his short dirty-blonde hair being ruffled by my hand. He got that trait from me; both his hair color and thickness. His defined cheekbones and square jaw were also two traits of mine. Everything else was Sarah. He had her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes, and her good looks.

My eyes traveled from my son to my wife. She was in mid-laugh, my mouth close to her ear, most likely telling a joke. Even though I couldn't remember what I had said, it seemed like it was funnier every time I looked at it. Her long, light blonde hair traveled over her shoulders, the light in her happy eyes bright.

Then I looked at me. Medium-length dirty blonde hair that I really didn't care what looked like, and underneath blue-green eyes. I had a very thick stubble all over my lower face.

That was taken over a year ago, before I was brought to prison. Now I didn't even know what I looked like.

I sighed, and looked over to the door, mentally begging Fluttershy to return.

My wrist was really becoming hell on a limb.