Well, this is one situation I've never experienced. It's bad enough that I'm flung into a new world that I presumed is, or instead, was, a girl's cartoon, but to be teleported to said a world without warning? Not cool. I mean, what did I do to deserve this? Did karma decide to pick someone to land here randomly, and the lucky lottery winner was me? Did some immortal deity I know nothing about choose to do this as a practical joke? Or maybe I'm in some coma, and this is my subconsciousness doing?
Suppose it is, then; well done, brain. I tip my hat to you.
But then again, how would I know? I'm your average human being who just so happens to live an average life. But, of course, now it's just former human being, seeing as I'm a unicorn. So before you ask why I'm this way, allow me to rewind to when my life was routine and non-magical.
My name is Samuel, or Sam if you decide to be casual about it. I'm a Caucasian male, standing at about five feet eight inches, with normal messy brown hair and brown eyes, wearing glasses that seem too thick to fit on the bridge of my nose.
I know that the description is repetitive or nothing too out of the ordinary, like I'm some boring character from a non-fiction novel. However, genetics made me who I am and gave me the personality I've been given.
I'm nineteen years old and an all-around funny guy when you get to know me. Mainly because I try to be comedic when I can, and I see the silver lining to most situations despite how bad they look.
What more can I say about myself other than that short description? Nothing really, if you think about it.
There's not too much to me; I'm plain ordinary, with nothing that makes me different or isolates me from other human beings. If you compared me to other guys, you'd probably think that I wasn't anything to be wary of. For example, my physique isn't precisely muscular like a bodybuilder, but it's not entirely compromised by my being fat. More likely, it's a medium build with no exercise/training. Like I said before: I'm average. There's nothing new or unique about me aside from being a major fan of all things video games. Video games are just a hobby and another way to kill time. Then again, who doesn't play video games when they need a break from reality once in a while?
Either way, my whole adventure had begun like this: I had recently finished some schoolwork in my room that was due the day after tomorrow. So naturally, I finished it early since I had worked on this for several hours. Nothing too complex; it was only college-level math that I was completely comfortable with. Heck, doing the homework was a breeze, especially since I finished an English essay just a few hours ago. Despite how it looked, it was not A+ material. Maybe more like a B-that is, if I got lucky.
And that's just the English portion of my classes.
Good God above, these subjects I was taking were tough. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I have trouble with these things. It's just that I'm lazy most of the time when it comes to strenuous work. So, don't think you'll see me lifting heavy objects or trying to solve any of Einstein's mathematical equations. Besides, I've done well in math and science before, but I don't understand String Theory or any logistics that go into it.
Heck, what I'd give to have more vacation time or at least an extra day so that people could have three-day weekends. The only other reason for me doing the homework was because I needed the spare time to relax and forget about the troubles in life, seeing as how it wasn't going to go away by themselves.
When I finished the math, I decided I needed a small rest. After all, I was working on this homework for an extended amount of time and figured that with all the school-related work I'd been doing, I needed sleep to keep myself from getting tired. Besides, it would only be between fifteen to forty-five minutes at best. I was sure that nothing would happen in that relatively short time. Again, the worst that could happen was losing some time or being scolded by my parents for not doing my homework. Being scolded by said parents is probably not the worst thing to happen to me. Usually, when I was younger, being grounded was routine for me, though it usually lasted about half an hour. However, that was because I didn't know any better and often let curiosity get the better. Nowadays, mom and dad rarely ground me because I do nothing to agitate them. Because I'm generally at school or in my room during the week, they know that I'm not one to cause trouble, though they still find it rather annoying that I stick to just these two places since they think this routine of mine is becoming "old hat."
And believe me, angry parents are something I wish not to have.
Aside from those possibilities, I foresaw no other downfalls/negative consequences to ultimately allow myself the much-needed and well-earned rest. Besides, nothing would change after just one nap. When I'd wake up, I'd still find myself in the same old room, with the same TV in said room (which I forgot to turn off), broadcasting the same programs that I've become accustomed to watching. There would be no changes to this whole area of space, which I called my "sanctuary" (if you can call it that, as my mother prefers to call it a mess), with nothing being out of place. As such, I lay on my bed, wearing nothing but a Foo Fighters short sleeve shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants, and plain socks. The last moment I had before slipping into the deep blackness called sleep was about me thinking about how routine my entire life had been for the past two years, starting from when I had moved to a bigger room in the house to have more space and graduated from high school, in the hopes of grasping a college bachelor's degree to work. And during those two years, nothing about me changed.
Sure, knowledge was beneficial and kept me entertained, but repeating the same things was tiring. After all, math is more of a subject meant to randomize variables to various equations and formulas in homework, with different outcomes and answers dependent on consistency, making patterns that can be graphed out if the effort is put into them.
This was now becoming a severe identity crisis for me. I mean, was this seriously all my life amounted to? Am I ok with my life so far? Had anything I achieved made an impact on my future? Moreover, was there anything to break this routine cycle called "a normal life"? In layperson's terms, which was me waking up, going to learn stuff, coming home, doing homework, and sleeping. Rinse and repeat.
Whatever the case, I had no time to worry about my future. I was just worried about my lack of a job to earn income. Sure, being paid by my father for helping him clean his office was nice, but the paycheck only ended at the end of every month or sometimes came in days late. So I needed a more stable part-time job with something I was good at and a weekly paycheck coming in to try to live on my own.
Yeah, right, like that's happening anytime soon.
With that, the comfort of the bed allowed me to finally rest, allowing me quiet, save for the television, which, even at low volume, still hummed with the noises of laughter and music and various colors streaming across the empty room, broadcasting my favorite programs. Too bad I never realized that it would be the last piece of technology I'd ever see, and soon, the television would be broadcasting for an empty room while I would vanish without a trace.
***********
"Ugh, did anyone get the license plate number of that truck?" was the first thought that popped into my head after some dreamless slumber. I felt like I got hit by a train traveling at high speeds or when my dad and I used to roughhouse when I was younger. The insurmountable pain I felt was mostly in my arms, legs, spine, and skull. Not to mention, I couldn't see for crap. Not because I had gone blind but because my eyes refused to open.
"For crying out loud, why do I feel such pain? The last time I felt this much pain was when I accidentally tripped down that flight of stairs."
Now, how was this possible? Because if memory serves me right, my mattress didn't usually cause sleeping problems or try to knock me into a damn coma! Nor was it lumpy and misshapen so severely that I couldn't sleep. So no, this feeling was different. It was different from the firmness that my mattress provided for back support.
I felt comfort—more comfort than usual, for a matter of fact. Like I was in heaven, my slumber was the only thing that mattered.
No noise to disturb me whatsoever.
That barely lasted. I mean, come on, it's a dream. It was the only logical conclusion. And good things in dreams don't last long. So this had to be too good to be true. Because, if memory serves me right again, nightmares begin sometime in the hours leading to the morning as a result of REM cycling.
It was an incredible sensation of noiselessness for a while, wrapping my eardrums and soaking in the feeling of peace. But then, I suddenly realized that all was too quiet. Too peaceful. The calm before the storm was slowly gathering, transforming into a hurricane.
It was just...silence...complete tranquility. And not a good kind of tranquil. More like the eeriness a person feels when they're trapped in a horror film or when they watch an online video with a jump-scare near the end of it—that kind of eerie tranquility.
Then, a faint noise echoed through, breaking the barrier of silence. It was slow and, at first, soft in volume, but it grew louder and louder the more it went on. And I just so happened to be caught in its path.
It was then that I knew what it was. The most annoying sound that many a person hates is when waking up to their alarm clock.
Beeping.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Lots of it.
Beep.
Beep.
So. Much. Beeping. So many beeps were made that day.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"Make it stop..." my thoughts asked me to do. Well, who am I to deny my thoughts? After all, the best-case scenario is that I'm fine, and my overprotective parents sent me to this hospital. Worst case scenario; I wake up in an abandoned hospital in the middle of the God damned zombie apocalypse, and everything plays out like it's the series beginning of the Walking Dead. Wouldn't that make for an awful ending to this story? Being dead just as I wake up from a coma.
Well, that wasn't going to happen. I know myself too well, and I'd hate to become a zombie after waking up, though the cursed beeping started it first.
Sorry guys, but Zombie Sam is not happening today.
So with the feeling of tranquility gone and nothing to lose, I decided, "ah, what the hell?" and woke up to silence my new beeping archenemy.
Bad idea, Sam. You goddamn moron.
When I opened my eyes, the whole world was light. Very light.
My sight did not enjoy this sudden presence of such blinding purity. I could feel my pupils dilate, and shrink, accompanied by an overwhelming burning sensation. Like any normal human being, I could only scream at such pain that I could not control.
"SWEET MOTHER OF EVERYTHING HOLY, MY EYES! THEY BURN!"
No wonder me and sunlight (or anything too bright, for that matter) never get along. While I'm trying to find shade whenever outdoors, the sun is constantly trying to blind me. Either that or give me sunburns.
Yep, pretty much one of the two. Talk about a love-hate relationship in which I love to hate the sun, and it loves trying to fry me like bacon.
Talk about a crappy relationship. I want a divorce.
Anyways, back to the story.
When I adjusted to the unusually brightened light (after rubbing my eyes back and forth and having to shut my eyes again immediately), I sat up in what appeared to be a hospital bed. Though with blurry vision at first, I found my standard glasses on a nightstand, clothes neatly folded at the edge of my bed, and me in a hospital gown. While I looked around the room, I noted that it looked like any other hospital room, with heart rate monitors and machines to my right, needles in my veins, and other tubes that I didn't know what they did, which their purpose was something that I didn't understand.
It looked like a hospital and smelled like one too. That is if you considered the fact that it seemed so cartoonish as hell!
" God, I know dreams often don't make sense, but really? A cartoon hospital room is the best my mind can come up with to entertain me. And I'm injured? Are you kidding me!?! This is so totally bull! Not only is this unoriginal, but there's nothing worth seeing! I could go to a real hospital if I wanted to be here! My mind can kiss my ass when I wake up from this boring-as-crap nightmare!"
Ok, time to go through a mental checklist of things so far:
Angered: check.
Room void of anything remotely worth noting: Double check.
Door to said room opening: Better than nothing.
Is a pony in a doctor's uniform walking in with a concerned expression? Ok, this is now becoming ridiculous, brain.
Well, talk about one of the weirdest things to happen in my life so far, at the very least.
My first reaction to this development was to remain silent until the pony did something. Then, my brain's reaction was to explode upon being unable to take in the massive amounts of strange that it couldn't handle from this experience alone.
Meanwhile, my heart respectfully disagreed with my brain and kept on beating, pushing the lifeblood through my veins, exchanging oxygen for breath, each pump continuing the circulation to each nerve and organ in my fiber.
So now it's clear: I'm definitely dreaming, and finally my mind has finally decided to do something to make the dream/prison slightly less boring. I dub so aid prison as "Boredom and cheesy as hell".
Like any good doctor, the pony wore the standard doctor's coat, with the doctor's stethoscope and clipboard, while managing to hold said clipboard in the hoof. Though seriously, how can a pony grip onto something with stubs for legs? And, how do they manage without fingers? And why in the name of all things forsaken am I still asking questions!?! Some things will remain forever unknown.
His physical appearance was a chestnut brown for a coat, with a darker brown for his mane and tail. He also had blue eyes, and correct me if I can't remember how genetics work, but doesn't he need a blonde mane and tail to have blue eyes in the first place?
" ok, creepy pony/horse thing as a doctor? Well then, I've seen everything." my next thought was.
The silence was the only thing in the room that hadn't changed. Neither I nor this pony had spoken, and already I was beginning to wonder who'd break the ice first. Seriously, we've been dancing around the idea of talking to each other for ten minutes at this point. While the doctor had been overseeing the machines and their functions, I was beginning to watch my sanity dwindle from lack of communication. I'm not invisible! Does he seriously not notice his patient in the room? Good God above, if it's the case, then this is one hospital I don't plan on recommending to any dream residents.
"This is becoming increasingly frustrating. I mean come on! No 'hello Mr. Whatever-You-Are', or 'Greetings Alien' or a 'dear [insert deity name here]! It's awake!' Seriously, don't I at least get to speak with something or someone who can talk back? "
Well, guess there's no choice but to finally go somewhere.
"Hey," I say to the pony.
He turns around to look at me. With a face that says surprise all over him.
"Can you tell me what I'm doing in a hospital?" I ask him.
At first, he doesn't respond to my question, still trying to comprehend the fact I talk, I presume. I wave my hand in front of him to try to get a response. Nada.
"Just great, I broke the doctor by being me. Now we need another doctor to fix the first one. But knowing my luck, the next doctor will probably do the same thing. Why can't life be simple for once?"
This time I snapped my fingers in front of him, which broke him out of the trance. However, he's still recovering from the shock of being spoken to, and it would be a matter of time before we're back at square one.
It's at this point I decided to address the facts to him, just because I didn't feel like answering questions and wanted to know where I was.
"Before you ask, yes I can talk," I say, knowing it's the first question he'll ask on instinct. "Also, thank you for your hospitality. I must say, that despite all the cramping and pain I'm feeling, I feel like a million bucks!" Ah, sarcasm. You never cease to let me down.
It's then he finally decides to respond. "Y-Y-Your welcome." he manages to sputter out. "So, I'm going to assume, that you're a friendly, um, creature?"
Seriously? Me, unfriendly? This just had to be a joke.
"Why would you assume I'm not friendly? I mean, come on! I know I look different from you, but there's no reason for me to be a bad guy. Unless you want me to."
It's there he gulps, obviously shaken by my sudden appearance and question, as if he's expecting something to happen. From there he begins explaining things to me. "W-W-Well, it's just that it's not every day you experience a new species come crashing down through the castle roof!"
What? Is he crazy to think I'd believe that? Obviously, something with this dream is definitely awry, and I intended to find out.
"Ok, this may sound crazy, but correct me if I'm wrong," I tell the doctor, "You're telling me I fell through the roof of a castle, after falling several down several thousand feet in the air, crash through said roof, into the floor of the castle, and survive?"
The doctor nods, trying to explain this so-called "miracle" that I lived.
"Yes, you did survive. Otherwise, you wouldn't be in Canterlot Castle's Medical Wing, still breathing and living right now."
Canterlot? As in the realm of King Arthur from a thousand years ago? This is incredibly ridiculous, even by the standards of people who either attempt world records for no reason, or stuntmen that get their kicks jumping out of helicopters into pools filled with Great White Sharks. Then, needlessly, the doctor began to annoy me with his nonsensical prattle.
"Ridiculous," I try to explain to the doctor. "Canterlot is a story that was made up some one thousand years ago. It's straight out of fiction, a story that was crafted to entertain young children."
"But then, how do you explain you living?" the doctor inquired. "You said felt cramping and pain, and hear you still sit up in your bed and breathe?"
Ok, he wants to fight logic with logic? Well then, I'm game for a debate. Besides, I can handle a battle of wits on my own; though it's not like I was going anywhere with the injuries I sustained.
"Impossible because I'm dreaming. I'm simply recreating elements from my life to see this whole hospital image thanks to REM sleep, and the pain that is within certain areas of my body is possible because of something wrong with my bed in real life. Why a pony doctor is taking care of me in a fictional world, I don't understand."
Now, I've got him on the ropes. Truthfully, as much as I'm grateful to be alive, I can't rule out me dreaming this scenario. But if I'm dreaming, I must be able to set boundaries within the said dream, therefore making it logical that since I know about the laws of gravity and physics, real-world science would defy the illogical in this dream. It's something that every genius takes into account, even if it's a dream, and allows the science behind the physics and gravitational pull to do the talking.
So, as subtly as possible, I try to change this supposed "dream" into something much more realistic. Mainly by having the doctor appear to look more human, and changing the entire contents of the hospital room to look similar to my own room at home. However, these apparent dream changes had failed to come about and thus leaving me confused as to why nothing has changed.
Something on the molecular should have been radically changed in terms of the whole dreamscape and didn't materialize, so what has? I'll have to continue using logic and implementation of my own theories (developed from my own experiences, mind you), to decipher the newest problem I have faced. And if this is the way my dream wants to play, so be it. There's an algorithm to explain this madness, and logic and Shk Holmes-like deduction and wellandasic physics will help me solve this.
I mean, let's analyze the situation for me. The fact is, I know when something seems logically possible, and when logic flies out the window. The math for that kind of survival was impossible, and even with the right kind of equipment, those chances of survival measured from unlikely, to slim.
It's not possible to survive without any kind of equipment from a crash like that. I'd be deceased either from oxygen deprivation in the planet's atmosphere, or the crash into the floor would kill me alone. Too many factors to account for my chances of survival, including the height I fell from, the rate of speed I was falling, the physics required to account for where I'd land, and the amount of cushioning needed to ensure minimal damage to my body didn't shatter upon impact.
So, if I'm not dead, haven't I awoken back in the real world after what I went through? Why do I not remember crashing? All I've got are questions, but no definitive answers to my dilemma.
At this point, the doctor tries again to present his case.
"You're alive thanks to magical emergency procedures that helped to keep you alive! Not to mention, it took the combined efforts of a unicorn and pegasi team to transport you, and stabilize your condition! Obviously, this is reason enough to convince you otherwise!?!"
Still relying on fiction to keep your story from falling apart, eh doctor? Alright, if you insist on trying to convince me.
"The math for my survival doesn't add up at all! It's not possible for one to survive in such circumstances, even if they had the proper gear! The odds to survive are astronomical! One would have a better chance of being struck by lightning if not all else! And besides magic, is not real, it's a fairy tale at best! How do you expect me to believe you when all of your logic is based on things outside the normal boundaries of reality, that is completely set in fiction?" I asked.
Little did I know of an uninvited and unexpected guest who was listening right around the corner, having been entertained by my banter.
"Perhaps I can those questions of yours..." a sweet, and kind, but most serious-sounding voice then resounded.
As I directed my attention to the newest visitor, she walked through the door posing a sense of regality and poise about her. Her coat was pure white like snow in winter, her mane made up of hues of pinks, blues, and greens, that were supported by some invisible wind, despite no current in the room. Her eyes were violet purple with a golden tiara and necklace and shoes (or slippers? I don't know), coming out of her forehead, and wings on her sides. Easily, her height beat mine by about a foot and a half.
If it was an attempt to intimidate me, it didn't work. But, knowing she somehow signified a symbol of great importance, I decided to shut my trap and be polite.
"And who do I owe this visit to?" I decided to ask her.
It was then, she put on a sweet smile, and spoke in a voice of authority: "My name is Princess Celestia. And you, my dear polite sir, are in Equestria."
********
Meanwhile, in another reality, a clash could be heard. A clashing of swords and the sound of monsters screaming, then popping into smoke and dust with no bloodshed. A clacking sound of wooden shoes onto stone and concrete, the clinking of other weapons nearby. A small group of fewer than ten people, heading straight into a series of underground tunnels.
"You sure about this?"
"Of course, you idiot! Don't tell me you're scared!"
"Am not. I just keep my suspicions high is all, little lady."
"Quit the petty squabbling. After all, aren't you supposed to be calm and collected out of all nine of us?"
"This is different. I ain't immortal like you, warboy. Dying is not on my list today!"
"Relax! Big brother will protect us, you know!"
"He's the strongest out of all nine of us, you know."
"Still...I've got my reasons. After all, hearing that coming from the lady bodyguard doesn't help me relax."
"He's defeated all the-!"
"Yeah, yeah. No need to remind me. I've seen him fight. I'm just a humble merchant after all."
"So that's a yes?"
"We'll see after we beat this monster."
Author's Note
Eh, talk about a first chapter, huh? :)
I ask of all readers to not hate on this story, as I'm trying something new. I hope to provide a good read for all people willing to give this story a chance.
Either way, please like if you can, give this story some constructive criticism, and I'll be working on the next chapter as soon as possible.
In the meantime, time to play everyone's favorite game, "What's the Crossover?"!
See if you can guess the name of the crossover, and leave a comment down below.
Hint: The crossover is about a game.
