Prologue
As I walk down the street with my friend, I think about Grammy Tia.
She has recently disappeared. No one knows where she went. All assume she is dead. Sam comforts me as best he can, but that's all he can. He offered to take me to the park today, so I said yes. Anything to dull the pain.
As we sit on the bench, I tell him the story of how Tia and I grew so close together.
"When I was little, Tia...Tia used to tell me stories about her childhood," I say slowly to him. I can trust Sam. He is one of my closest friends. "She told me of the old farm she used to run when she lived in the Caribbean, and about the animals there. Then, she would show me these...these photographs, of strange ponies that she cared for. She said that in that barn, they were safe from the monsters that were hunting them. She would protect them, and in return, they would honor her, do shows for her, displaying their special talents.
"She called them 'peculiar' because...because they were colorful, and some had wings, others magical powers. There were unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies, she said, and they could all talk. Each had a unique personality. She called one 'the bookworm' and one 'the party animal', and another 'the tomboy'. But that was when I was a little kid.
"As I grew up, I began to realize that some...no, all of the photos were fakes. They were probably Photoshopped, or drawn with a real background. I started to believe that these stories were fakes, too, and that she was just a crazy old woman.
"But then... but then my parents told me the real reason she told me the stories. Because, when she was running the farm, she did have special ponies...just not talking, colorful ones like she said. They were prize-winners, and the 'monsters' were people who wanted the prize-winning ponies, and they were willing to do anything for them. Mom and Dad said that she told me these stories because it would be easier for a little kid to understand, but then I was old enough to know the truth."
Sam smiles at me kindly, and I see the understanding in his eyes. He is such a great friend.
He simply nods, then stares off into the horizon. "But I have one question."
"What?" I ask.
"Could you show me one of those photos? I'm pretty good at deciphering a fake photo from a real one," he said.
"Sure," I reply. "We're looking through Tia's stuff to see what she might have wanted us to keep. I'm sure I can find one for you."
"Great!" He suddenly jumps up, and, pulling me with him, goes straight to the merry-go-round.
He drags me through the whole park, including the mini-gym made for two-year-olds. When we imagine it's a pirate ship, however, it becomes the best part of the jungle gym.
I thought that everything would just go back to normal the next day. I thought that I could just forget that Grammy Tia ever died.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
As I sort through the piles of old, dusty stuff in Tia's house, I search for the old photographs she showed me as a child. I made a promise to Sam, and I am determined to keep it.
There is nothing in the living room except her china collection, and Mom already has her eye on that. I move on to the bedroom, looking through wood cabinets and tables for the album. When I look in her bed stand drawer, I finally find it. It is a simple moleskin journal, but I know it has the answers to all my questions.
Before I lend it to Sam to inspect, however, I sit on Grammy's bed and gently open the book. Inside, there are several photographs. One showed a purple pony magically levitating a clipboard and pencil, dressed up to look like a librarian. In another, I see a yellow pony crouching in a dark hallway, covering her eyes. In a third, I see them and four other ponies, appearing younger, playing in a field.
They obviously are Photoshopped. These ponies look too.. cartoony to be real. I shut the book, not wanting to look at any more photos.
Then I notice something sticking out of a page in the album. I turn to that page, and instead of photos taking up the pages, there is a note.
To whoever gets this journal after me,
I am worried about my little ponies back at the farm. I fear the worst, for they are very unstable without me. The monsters cannot get them, but their own minds can.
That is why I ask you to go to the island. Take care of Dashie, and of Pinkie, and of Twilight, and of Applejack, and all the rest of my beloved ponies. My sister resides there. She will help you save them.
Sincerely, Tia E. Quine
I don't believe my eyes. Quine is my father's name, before he married Mom. No one ever uses it, but Grammy always was formal, like she was born in the Middle Ages or something.
I know immediately that this note is important. I check to see if anything is on the back of that page, then carefully rip it out of the book and tuck it into my pocket. Grammy's note was obviously meant for her predecessors, not Sam's scanner.
When I get home, I call Sam. He'll want to know about the album, and I would hate to forget later.
"Y'llo," he mumbles when he picks up.
"Hi, Sam," I say.
"Oh, hi, Ally," he murmurs. He is obviously sleepy. "Listen, can it wait? I stayed up really late last night and-"
"I found the book," I interrupt.
"Oh!" he snaps to attention. "Good! You want to come over, or..." he trails off.
"Think you can bring your laptop here?" I ask.
He and I arrange to meet at the library in ten minutes, and for him to bring the scanner to hook up to the computers there. I tuck the book into a small bag, then hop onto my bike.
I could never forget the way. Sam and I have been there a million times before, but never for something this important. I rushed around corners and bends, getting some selective gestures from nearby pedestrians, but I don't take notice. I just have to get to the library on time.
Sam is waiting for me when I arrive. He is tapping his foot impatiently, like I was late or something.
"What took you so long?" he demands.
"What are you talking about?" I ask. "I'm three minutes early."
"Exactly," he scolds me. "Three minutes? I was expecting five minutes and no less."
I giggle, then pretend to submit to his teasing. "Yes, Mr. Anderson."
He shows me to the computer stations, where he hooked up his scanner. Sam is a nerd. He has all the latest equipment for stuff, including a laptop that morphed into an iPad, a touch-screen printer, and the scanner. He bought all of it himself.
As I give him the album, I think about the paper still in my pocket from earlier. I should probably consult him about that, too, but I feel the strange need to keep it a secret. I don't want anyone to find out about it until I'm ready.
As the light passes over the book, analyzing every fiber in the coarse paper, I follow it with my eyes. It is like a flute played for a snake, hypnotizing me. Back, forth, back, forth...
I snap out of the trance as the machine beeps, signalling the scan is complete. Sam removes the book and hands it back to me, and then quickly turns to the computer screen. I see rows of numbers pass, and Sam nods like it all makes sense.
"Hmm..." He seems troubled.
"What is it?" I ask.
"It seems that there is a page torn out. That's too bad, I guess," he sighs.
"Hehe," I laugh halfheartedly. I am a terrible liar. "I wonder how that could've happened..."
"Well, to see if the photos are real or fake... the machine says that they are real," he says. My mouth drops open. These colorful ponies, real?
"Uh, have you seen the photos?" I ask him. I don't believe the stupid machine. Data can be wrong, right?
"No," he replies. "Let's have a look, shall we?"
He opens the book. I expect his face to light up in surprise at how fake-looking they are, but he just nods his head.
"Yes," he says to no one in particular. He snaps the book shut. "They do look fake."
"Well I know that!" I exclaim.
"But this one here, this one I find funny," he says, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. Whenever it does that, I know it is seriously mind-baffling. This kid is really smart.
He points to a picture of the six ponies, in a regular-looking hotel room.
"How could six colorful ponies go into a hotel and just hang out?" he asks. I shrug, because in truth, I have no idea.
I point to the one below that. "That one looks like Subway," I say.
"Hmm... Maybe these pictures are Photoshopped..." he mutters.
Then I remember the note. He is so interested in the photos that there has to be something important in it.
"Hey, uh," I say before I can chicken out. "I don't mean to dump anything on you, but I found something else in the book."
"What?" he asks, suddenly back on Earth.
"There was a note in it," I explain, pulling it out of my pocket. "You should check it out."
He examines it with his nerd-power, then hands it back to me.
"It appears to be a cry for help," he says.
"Well, duh!" I roll my eyes at him. For a smart person, Sam was very good at stating the obvious.
"I didn't finish," he says tartly. "It appears to be a cry for help... that we should answer."
"Wait, what?"
"You heard me."
"Well, how are two middle-school kids going to go to an island in the middle of the Caribbean?"
"My parents and I were going to go on vacation for a little bit." He smiles devilishly. "Maybe I could convince them to go to the Caribbean, and maybe I could convince them to bring you along, too?"
"Sam, I can't ask you to do this," I say, shaking my head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'd really rather do this on my own."
"Are you kidding?" he laughs, and several people around us stare. The librarian shushes us. "I wouldn't miss this for the world!"
This kid was as stubborn as a mule! "Suit yourself," I shrug, tucking the note back in my pocket. "But it's your job to convince my parents."
"Deal." He smirks, knowing that he won. "Meet me Saturday, and we'll go."
Author's Note
All images belong to their rightful owners.
