Clockworks
The foal woke up at 8:00 A.M. sharp, like always. He got up and brushed his teeth the same as he always did. He had the same, boring breakfast he had every morning.
Like always, he was out the door at 8:30. He stopped and spoke to another foal, the same one he always spoke to. They said the same things they always did, before parting for the schools that the two of them had always gone to.
He walked the same grey streets, and passed the same grey towers he always had. The same grey ponies, in the same places, doing the same thing they always did. The window cleaners wiped the same windows, the business ponies did the same business with the same ponies as always.
This world was safe. Predictable. Comforting.
At 8:45, the foals path led him through the park. The grey trees provided grey shadows that the same, grey ponies lay under, as they always did. The same dog slept in the same spot, the caretaker chased the same squirrels, the black pony stood…where he never was.
The foal stopped in his tracks. There was never a black pony. There was never a color but grey. And his eyes glowed red. This was new, and the foal did not know how to react. So he ran, back to the sameness, the grey, the familiar. His day went back to normal, the same as always.
******
The foal woke up at 8:00 A.M. sharp, like always. He got up and brushed his teeth the same as he always did. He had the same, boring breakfast he had every morning.
Like always, he was out the door at 8:30. He stopped and spoke to another foal, the same one he always spoke to. They said the same things they always did, before parting for the schools that the two of them had always gone to.
He followed the same path, through the same grey streets, passed the same grey buildings, the same grey ponies. But this time, he wondered. Was the black pony still there? Would he run again, if so? He didn’t know. He didn’t know, and that scared him, like nothing else he could remember. He didn’t know, and he couldn’t wait to find out, with and excitement he couldn’t remember.
In the park was something new, and he walked just a tad faster.
At 8:43, the foal entered the park. The grey trees were the same as always, but some of the ponies were slightly earlier than he was used to. But then, he was early today as well.
The black pony was not standing where he had been the day before. Instead, he was lounging on a bench, forelegs crossed in front of him. His eyes were closed, making him look like he was sleeping.
The foal stopped to watch him, uncertain of what else to do. What was the appropriate thing to do here? He didn’t know, so he just stood there, and stared.
Finally, the black pony opened his eyes, and gave the foal a smile. A smile that revealed white teeth, which would look more fitting in the mouth of a wolf, then a pony.
“You look a little lost, little one.” He said to the foal. “Why don’t you come over here, so we can talk?”
The foal was confused. After all, nobody had ever just offered…no, they used to but he couldn’t remember when, or why.
In the end, he decided to do as the stranger asked.
“Wh-who are you?” he asked, the first unscripted words he could remember saying.
The stranger gave another grin, this one without the teeth. “My name is Enigma.” He said. “Do you remember yours?”
The foal was taken aback. His name? He vaguely remembered that he had a name. Once. A long time ago. But it was lost in the grey. “No.” He said sadly. Why was he sad? He wasn’t sure. “It’s been…” he wasn’t sure, “It’s been… I don’t remember.”
“6,523 years, since this started. Since you all stopped changing.”Enigma sighed “I’m sorry for you. About your name. It is a shame to lose ones-self.” He looked genuinely sad. “Perhaps I can tell you a story. It might help you remember.”
The foal was interested. After all, this pony-creature had a name. And color. But…
“How could a story help me remember my name?” He asked, brows furrowed. He had no idea how that might help. Or why this stranger was taking an interest in him.
Enigma chuckled. “That’s simple.” He said, flashing another grin. “It is the sameness and conformity, what you called the grey in your head, that has caused you to forget. Logically, introducing you to something different, something not grey, may help you remember. Even better if it has things you used to know in it, as well.” He explained
The grey? The foal thought. He did call it that, didn’t he? But how did Enigma know, if it was in his head? Still…
“Alright.” The foal said. He was curious, after all, and school was always the same. Everything else was always the same. So why not try something new? “What’s your story about?”
Once more, Enigma chuckled. The foal decided he liked the sound. Laughter that was unrestrained. Unrehearsed. “It is the story of how I became what I am, and how I became who I am. The first part of it, at least. Unless you think that’d be narcissistic?”
That was an idea the foal hadn’t heard of in forever. Still, this creature didn’t seem to be a narcissist, and he was interesting, in more ways that just something new should be. There was something about him that radiated danger and excitement. He had the presence of something impossible, unknowable, and in complete control.
And he’d just offered the foal a way to know.
“No.” he said. “I don’t think it’d be narcissistic. I want to hear it.” he all but begged. “I want to know how you got your teeth and glowing eyes. I want to know how you got here. I haven’t seen a, a unicorn since we were all made the same.” He looked Enigma in the eyes. “I want to know. Please.”
The foal jumped as Enigma began to laugh. For real. Loud and deep-chested. “Well kid, would you look at that, you’ve already started remembering a little.” He gave another smile. “Alright then, my story begins a long time ago, in another universe entirely…”
Nightmare
Author's Note
You know things are dull, when Black is a vivid color to you.
Shattered
My story begins in a world other than the one where it happens. A world inhabited by creatures very different than any you have known. No, it doesn’t matter what they looked like, or what they were called. What matters is that I was once one of them, and what I did last in that world.
I was a scientist, you see, working on a project in my basement that would most likely have been declared to dangerous or expensive to receive funding. Rightly so, in truth, though we could not have known why, at the time.
I was attempting to create a machine to allow travel between realities.
My lab was really quite large. It had to be, if I was right about the size of the event horizon I was going to use. A half mile underground, reinforced with concrete and steel, it would have survived most anything the world could throw at it. But I made a mistake.
A miscalculation, really.
It happened on the first test run of the machine. I was planning to just open a window, allow me to see into another world. From there, I’d ensure it was stable, learn how to aim it, and make sure it was safe. Unfortunately, I made a mistake about how the space between realities acted.
I had assumed that either the between-space, what I now call the void, or the walls of reality itself would constantly attempt to close the hole that I would need to create for the devise to work. Naturally, I thought this would require significant amounts of power to accomplish.
So I used lots of power to keep it open. No, it doesn’t matter how much, exactly. Suffice it to say, that my methods of power generation weren’t necessarily legal for a civilian to practice.
None the less, when I opened the window, the machine began to feed excessive amounts of energy to attempt to sustain the event horizon. Energy that the Void had no problem with taking. It then multiplied it, 100 fold, 1,000 fold, more, and fed it right back into the machine.
The event horizon grew. It had quickly filled my lab, and it was all I could do to reach the stairs back up. Not that I didn’t try to abort the experiment, but the machine was far in control any more. The event horizon lost stability.
It collapsed.
And then, the universe exploded.
Eventually, I learned that that was not hyperbole, and about the sheer number of realities this bit in the but.
()()()()()()
I don’t remember, precisely what happened next. That’s probably a good thing, since what I remember is fear, terror, and pain.
But after that, I woke up in a crater.
It wasn’t a deep one, only a foot and a half deep, but the bowl had been glassed. You, don’t know what is do you, little one? I didn’t think so. It basically just means that the ground had been turned to glass. This would require a lot of heat, and for it to happen quickly, a lot of pressure.
Which mostly means that I fell really hard, and really hot.
Now, the first thing I did when I woke, was try to figure out what had happened. Yes, before I tried to get up, or opened my eyes. Only took about five seconds to realize that I’d messed up. Badly.
I mentally resolved to fix whatever I broke, opened my eyes, and got up. Then I stared at the glass. It was smooth and flawless, not something that would occur naturally, and just as reflective as a mirror.
So of course I stared when I saw a strange creature reflected back at me.
I had not noticed until then that I had changed. My first thought, was that I looked like a horse, though there were differences. Pitch black fur covered my body, and I had a ruffled looking mane and tail of the same color. Two large eyes, which appeared too large for the skull they were in, stared back at me with their blood red gaze. And no, they didn’t glow. That didn’t start until after the wolves showed up.
Anyways, I climbed out of the crater and onto a vast grassy plain that seemed to go on endless, oh wait, there’s a town over there. And a creepy forest and some mountains. How’d I miss those? Oh well, onwards to town!
******
Enigma stood atop the bench, one foreleg thrust forward, a grand grin splitting his face.
As the foal watched him standing there, the images from the story slowly faded from his mind. Then he realized just how silly Enigma looked.
“You should get down.” He giggled. “Somepony might think you’re insane.”
Once more, Enigma chuckled. Hopping off the bench he said “Now, who ever said I was still sane? Heh. In truth, no one in this world is sane anymore.” A small grin grew on his face. “In fact, you can think of me as this worlds psychologist. The crazy treating the insane, so to speak.”
“If you say so.” The foal said, giving Enigma an odd look.
“I do.” Enigma sat down on the grass and tapped a hoof to his chin. “Now where was I?”
Glass
