Forlorn

Chapter 2: Barriers and Doorways

Vermello breathed hard after running from the mysterious vines. He had never run quite so quickly, or been more scared in his life. He stopped running and sat down. Tears began run down his cheeks at the thought of being trapped. It was at times like this that his mother would comfort him; she would hug him tightly and tell him how he’ll grow up to be a brave, strong pony one day. He really missed those hugs right now.

After a few minutes, Vermello realized that there was but one option: move forward. Today was the day he would be that brave and strong pony his mother told him he would be. After wiping the tears away he continued down the path once more at a slower, but steady pace. The path was now becoming increasingly inclined. It seemed that the path now would lead him straight out of the valley.

Several minutes elapsed. Vermello wondered how much taller this hill could be. Looking down he saw what an incredible elevation he had climbed to. He was instantly taken aback; he recalled no hill of such a large elevation. He wondered if he was even in Equestria anymore. Had he ventured into some unknown land where nopony has ever gone before? Were there dragons and other horrible creatures living there? These thoughts brought fear right back into his heart.

Vermello finally reached the top of the hill. A steep climb it was, but he finally made it. There was an expression of pure hope on his face in anticipation at the top. All there was to be seen, however, was a plain white fence. Utter despair infected his expression of hope at the sight of it. This fence appeared to be too tall for him to climb. He looked to the left then to the right in attempts to find a way around. The fence, however, went on for seemingly miles into the infinite scenery. He looked under the fence and noticed, though it was blocking the path, the path itself still continued. Vermello saw but one choice yet again: he had to climb the fence.
Vermello tried many times and failed many times. He once finally got enough of a hold to lift himself up, but once he got to the top, he discovered that the top was now in a higher place than before. At this realization, he let go and fell towards the earth. The impact caused him a bit of pain, but not so much as to make him cry. He was, after all, a brave and strong pony. Eventually, his own frustration caught up with him. Who was this white wooden barrier to keep him from his beloved parents? He figured if he couldn’t go over around the fence, he might as well try breaking it. Vermello charged with all his might at the fence, closing his eyes to brace for the impact. To his surprise, this impact never came. Vermello found himself on the other side of the obstruction completely unharmed. “What happened?” he wondered, “How could I have passed through t so easily?” After the black box incident, however, he dared not travel back to further examine the fence. He had to keep moving forward.
Vermello did indeed move forward, but after walking another hour on the plain dirt path that was surrounded by the empty green void of fields and blue sky he began to feel as if all hope was lost, though he did not want to admit it to himself or anypony else. The feeling was eating away at his very insides; the possibility that he took the wrong path. He stopped walking and stood and stared at the ground. He fought back the tears that he knew were imminent. “N-no… I-I’m a strong and brave p-pony…” he said aloud. The emotions and thoughts overwhelmed him and the inevitable happened. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks from his big cerulean eyes. Tiny puddles began to form on the ground as he sobbed uncontrollably. “Why…” he thought, “Why is this happening to me? Was I a bad pony?” That question, however, only increased the flow of tears. He felt like this was the end, like there was nopony who could help him now. Though he had not been alive for long, he still remembered his parents well: the hugs, the treats, the bright smiles. Vermello was always a rather bright pony from the start. He wanted very much to be able to read and write. His mother always read him stories, and even wrote her own to read to him. She promised that soon she would teach him to be able to read too. It was this very ambition that gave him the strength he required to continue his journey.
It seemed like another hour at the very least had elapsed. Vermello was now feeling rather hungry. He fought this feeling and pushed onward through the despair. Finally he had reached the end of the path. It did not lead to his parents, but three white doors arranged in a row. These doors looked like any other ordinary doors, but there were no visible structures behind them. Vermello had deduced that his parents must be behind one of the doors. He approached the door on the right with confidence, but hesitated at opening it. He quickly shook away these feelings and grabbed the knob in his teeth. As he did so, however, the door swung open and released his grip on the knob. Loud screams were emitted from the door as he looked inside and saw himself with a look of absolute terror on his face. This immensely frightened Vermello and he jumped back with a loud scream of his own. The phantom Vermello in the doorframe locked his eyes with the actual Vermello and in one swift motion slammed the door closed.
The actual Vermello was now breathing very hard lying on the ground. His heart was fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird. Once again, a steady stream of tears flowed from his eyes. He knew that thing was meant to frighten him. He knew what it wanted; it wanted to keep him from his parents. Well if he couldn’t pass through that door, he might as well have tried another. He quickly dried his tears and approached the middle door. He grabbed it with his mouth, this time there was no automatic opening. He twisted the knob and slowly pushed it open. To his surprise, he saw himself yet again. This time, though, his phantom self was staring right into his actual self’s eyes with a blank expression. Actual Vermello was stricken with curiosity. He gingerly extended his arm to touch his phantom self, but just as he did so the door slammed yet again.
A third time Vermello would open a door, the left door. Without any hesitation he opened the door yet again. To his despair, he saw himself a third time. This image had an expression of pure fury. It was as if fire were about to be ejected from its nostrils. Finally, it blew its top and began to scream, but not a scream like the first figure. This was a scream of absolute rage. The figure turned around and ran in the opposite direction. Again the door slammed shut. Vermello was dumbstruck. What did all of this mean? Was this whole thing really some sort of horrible nightmare? While he sat pensively contemplating the events that had just occurred, the second door creaked open rather ominously. Vermello stared at the opened door. Terror filled his veins at the thought of what was behind that door. He wondered if something were going to come out of it. He tested this hypothesis by waiting again for several minutes. His impatience grew steadily and he could wait no longer. He approached the door and pushed it open. Inside was a black and empty void of a room. In the center was a concrete pedestal with an odd multicolored octahedron. It appeared to be actually hovering a few inches above the pedestal. Vermello quietly entered the mysterious room. He approached the pedestal to find an inscription on it. He wished very much that he could read what it said. Wondering if it said something about his parents, he decided to take the strange glowing octahedron. The second he touched it all hell broke loose. The octahedron emitted an array of intense bright lights, and an ear piercing screech as it spun around on its pedestal. The lights and sounds overwhelmed Vermello’s senses. He tried his best to keep his balance, but within seconds he was out like a light.