Let me ask you a question: If you one day wake up, and then find that you’re wearing the skin of someone you only knew beforehand as only fiction, alongside with every single detail of that character’s life. How would you feel? Ecstatic? Confused? Disgusted?
I felt devastated.
Now, let me tell you first about me. I was a simple guy with a simple need. I wake up, check the internet, get washed, dressed, go to work, go to home, open up my desktop and then sleep. Sometimes, I would put some variations in between. Like going to the mall just to walk, frequent that coffee shop near my home, or just go for a walk. Not just those, of course, but things of the equivalent variation.
I was not a sociopath nor was I a psychopath. I could feel emotions. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I whoop in joy. I feel guilt when I do something wrong, and I always try to divert that guilt to somebody else, because I dislike dealing with guilt. I lie, but not often, because lies are meant to be used scarcely. I prefer honesty, because honesty is simple. You may hurt others, but it’s the least action that takes effort. I love my family, even if my brother could be a dick, and even if my big sister could be a nagging bitch. But I would do anything for them if they’re in need of some help.
And without even trying, I had crushed Terry Hintz, the Lord of Hints, from taking control of his own body.
Oh, it’s not a conscious effort, to be sure. It’s an instinctive thing, like trying to open your eyes when you just woke up from a deep slumber. There's always a bit of struggle in trying to get rid of the sleep and crusts from your eyes, but it's something you would easily do in every day. Something trivial, to be specific.
Of course, it’s not hard to figure out the why. Awesome and cool as he was—at this, I could feel something small warming up inside me—, Terry was pathetic—then that something dimmed considerably. And not only that, I could feel my memory of him ‘betraying Brad’, and his memory of him betraying Bard clashed, before immediately converging. Brad was Terry’s friend. His friend since… forever. He expected Brad to betray him.
Not as loud as his own boisterous ‘mask’, of course. Just a tiny whisper, so tiny that I had to actually focus in on myself to here it, but it was there. Shame and regrets twirled together in a knot like they were a married couple. Self-pity and disgusting rolling off in waves. I could understand it, really. Doubly so when I shared memories with him.
When he had forced himself to join Brad, he had expected the worst of him just like he had expected the worst of himself. He expected—believed—that Brad would sacrifice him, abandon him, or just sell him. But he didn't. Instead, every time Terry found himself in a trouble, Brad always came through to help him. When Buzzo came with his twisted games, and when he found himself kidnapped.
In that journey Terry followed Brad through the deserted land of Olathe, he had became his best friend. Well, at least for Terry, Brad was his best friend.
And then when Brad needed him, Terry betrayed him.
And for what? For the world? The world was wounded when the women were gone. The world was crippled when people were taking Joy pills. The world dying doomed when the mutated monsters came in. And the world too far from saving when the men would go to the extend of raping a little girl, willing or not.
Terry wanted a friend. He got it. And he threw it away trying to save the already doomed world. Terry was pathetic, and he felt himself so. I found myself believing, awesome and cool as he was.
And now, I was that pathetic person.
()_()_()
I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, belly-flopped on the ground. Maybe hours, but definitely not days. Though how many hours, I didn’t know. I simply felt tired and depressed, and such was the curse of being Terry Hintz—upon that thought, I felt something cooling inside me.
But I knew the futility of what I was doing. I didn’t like sulking and brooding; they’re like a whirlpool leading to the abyss of unknown, sucking you in with misery. When you realize what it had done to you, it would be simply all too late. They are also utterly useless.
So, with a groan of a voice that wasn’t mine, but of Terry Hintz, I rolled over to my back. I stared at the sky; from my the edge of my peripherals, I saw fertile green plants and grasses. Idly, almost lazily, I realized that I was not in Olathe. Something inside me beeped in surprise at that.
I did the same, and blinked. A thought enters that this may be the world that Buddy has managed to create, but that thought was dashed away almost immediately. Regardless of how powerful Buddy was, she was no god. Good at killing? Sure. Good at being a murderhobo and drug-addled girl? Yes. But I was quite sure they Joy didn't give her an omnipotent superpower. Olathe was a hellhole, and it was beyond saving, even with its inhabitants killed.
Something—what remained of Terry Hintz, I thought—inside me agreed with that thought.
I took in a deep breath, and almost choke on my own spit as I smelled my body’s odor. God’s sake, that’s awful. I wondered when was the last time Terry Hintz actually took a bath. The answer came quickly: Ten years. Or at least, around ten years.
Blanching and gagging, I pushed it all down. I Sighed, placing both of my palms over my face. Terry’s face. It felt weird; rough and strangely shaped. Big nose. Small eyes. Wrinkly face. I shuddered. Before this, I was a healthy twenty-four years old man; now I’m thirty something old man. Granted, he’s fit; god knows you got to be when you can do a dance that could burn people. But it’s no less unnerving.
I bared with it, though, shuddering as I explored Terry’s rough face, trying my damndest to get used to it. Perhaps if I wore the skin of someone else, it wouldn’t disturb me much—well, that would be a lie. Even if by some circumstance that I was stuck in other people’s skin—and disregarding that my will would be crushed nigh immediately—, it would still be greatly unnerving. There’s a reason why I never considered ever having a plastic surgery despite my not-so perfect facial.
I sighed again, letting my hands fall to my side as I rose to sit. “Well,” I said, a rather high-pitched noise with a rough scratchiness underneath—all the very epitome of patheticness—came out instead of my original considerably deep voice. I expected it, but it was nevertheless uncomfortable. I relished in the fact that I still remained that fake-British accent resulted in having a British English teacher. “It could’ve been worse.”
Yes, I realized soon thereafter that I just jinxed myself. But I didn’t particularly care. I found my eyes distracted by the nature surrounding me, tall green trees, green grasses, colorful flowers. I took a deep breath, this time without Terry’s stank, and the memories of Olathe from Terry’s made me appreciate the cool clean air more.
My stomach proceeded to rumble, and I decided then that I needed to eat. Of course, it was easier said than done. Stretching my body, and finding it disappointingly inflexible, I took a random direction and started from there. The chance of encountering a deadly animal never crossed my mind until I heard a howl coming deep within my direction.
I froze in track, sweat forming on my pores. After a moment of making sure I wasn’t getting mauled to an early death, I decided that maybe I was taking the wrong route and turned around. The Terry inside me trembled at the thought of encountering a wolf, the worser version of a dog. Then it reminded me of his betrayal against Brad, and then I felt like a heavy weight was dropped over my shoulders. I got the sense of it apologizing, but it didn’t help my worsened mood any more.
And so I trudged through whatever forest I was in. Had I remembered those lessons I took as a boy scout, I would probably know a way or two on how to find a way out. I could read a compass, true, but alas, I had no compass. Rifling into my pockets, I found some crumpled paper notes, and two pens.
A sudden urge to write encompassed from deep within, but I pushed it away. I was in no mood of writing useless hints that would probably act as a diary when nobody was going to read them. Not in this forest, that’s for sure.
So I trudged once more. Some indeterminable time passed, and I was glad that Terry was no slouch in fitness department. Awesome and pathetic as he was, he was still the same man that could burn people with his dance. Somehow, I knew I could do the same dance, but I doubted that it was any better than his. Still, it was nice to know that there’s some part of my old body that carried over to this one.
Then I finally encountered civilization. It was unlike any others I had seen. It’s a small village, one that reminded me of the old Medieval era. Hay-thatched roofed buildings, and brick buildings placed intermittently between each other. Once in awhile, there would be some oddly designed buildings, but my eyes weren’t focused on the odd architectures.
No. Not on them. But rather, they were focused on the… ponies mingling about. They stared at me, and I stared at them. Belatedly, I realized that I was in the middle of said village.
We stared at each other.
Tentatively, I waved my hand at them, smiling despite myself. I must’ve looked so pathetic that one of them took pity and decided to wave back at me.
Something slipped over me, like a familiar worn mask. I may not be Terry Hintz, and I couldn’t be Terry Hintz, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t act like Terry Hintz. And if there’s something I knew about Terry Hintz, he’s charmingly pathetic in his own unique way.
“Hello!” I started boisterously, crossing my arms over my chest as I grinned genially. “I’m Elliot Hintz, the Lord of Hints! I have come from lands far away with tips and hints to freely share with you kind folks!”
Ever had a stage-fright? That beginning of many awful experiences; legs trembling as jelly as you climb atop of the wooden stage, and that feeling of sudden self-conscious as people focus on you. The words which you stumbled and stuttered as you try to introduce yourself, and what you’re about to do. I had. Terry had. Mine went numbingly swimmingly, while Terry had done a fine good job dancing until he tripped.
Both weren’t a pleasant memories, doubly so when I could feel Lil’ Terry’s shame and fear as if it was my own, but they were the memories I correlated immediately after minutes being stared in awkward silence since my introduction.
When people encounter a problem, they usually try to find an alternative to get past or solve them. In the case of my stage-fright, I simply kicked shame in the ass and just march along with whatever I was doing. In Terry’s case, he shunned himself and picked up a new passion to pursue.
Of course, when the audience suddenly transformed themselves into a sapient alien species, those alternatives wouldn’t work at all. And such was my situation, legs locked on the dirt ground as I did my best in statue impression with my arms crossed over my chest, and a large grin that would twitch every now and then.
Seconds were used to introduce myself in a very Terrious Manner, and I immediately regretted that choice. Refuge in audacity, they say! And now here I was, back to square one, holding a completely unfair staring contest with these ponies. Indecision was prominent on their face, and I’d argue the same for me. I wanted to say something, break the silence for whatever it was worth, but I couldn’t. It didn’t help when I note that they had wings or horn on them. True, it’s not the most shocking thing to receive, but it’s still shocking nonetheless.
The Terry in me—and ain’t that weird—gave the picture of curling in fetal position. A picture flitted by me; a large old balding man, staring at me in an indecipherable look. Belatedly, I realized that it was when Terry first introduced himself to Brad. Boisterous and loud. Just like how I was doing it now to these equines—ponies? That definitely sounds better.
I pushed the picture away, and my eyes twitched as I swept them across the ponies. After a while, they stopped to one particular pony; to be specific, the one who had greeted me earlier. It—she? He?—stared at me with the same indecision, but I could see the slight clinical contemplation in its blue eyes. It wasn’t hard to read it, really. These ponies were projecting their feelings like many child-focused cartoon character would.
It had a relatively short platinum blonde hair—mane?—spanning down halfway to its neck, and tied in a ponytail—heh—with the same done to her shorter tail. Its coat was honey orange, and I could see muscles despite its fur. Oddly enough. Aside from that, there’s a saddlebag hanging on her back—and that rhymed!
It looked up from whatever it was thinking, and I found my eyes locked with its large green eyes. There’s a moment of silence, then the pony smiled confidently and nodded to itself. Without breaking a moment, the pony strode forward until its snot was just a few centimeters away from my stomach—not too large, these ponies. To be honest, I was half-terrified and glad at its initiative. I didn’t know how much long I could hold the awkward silence.
Its hoof reached into her saddlebag, and pulled out what I could comprise as a hat. A blue police hat with the picture of two winged-unicorns—one dark and the other light—rotating around what seemed to be a vertically positioned pair of the sun and the moon. The hat fit snugly upon the pony’s head.
Reaching up to me, it rested its hoof upon my chest. It did a little feminine coughs that sounded too adorable than it should. And then it–she spoke. “Greetings, Elliot Hintz!” She cheerfully exclaimed, making sure that all ponies in vicinity could hear her. “While it is unusual to receive a visitor from another species, one that I came out of nowhere and I haven’t heard about, I welcome you to Charm Town!”
I blinked. For some other reason, despite the mare’s—is that the right term?—totally awkward welcome, the undercurrent tension within the air seemed to dissipate almost immediately as the ponies around us relaxed. I could even hear some chuckles around us as they returned to whatever it was they were doing before I stumbled here, and only a few lingered to watch us.
The police-mare smiled pleasantly to me. “Would you like a tour on our town, Elliot Hintz?”
I blinked at her offer, and then nodded. For some reason, I felt that it was less of an offer, and rejecting it would be an act of futility. Not that I was planning to refuse her offer, mind. “Yes, and just Elliot, please.”
She nodded, finally pulling her resting hoof back on the ground. “Then you can call me Vale,” with that, Vale turned around and I followed as she walked.
Charm Town, true to its name, was indeed a charming town. Picturesque houses made of unknown wood and painted in pleasing colors littered on both sides of the dirt road. Some were different than others, proprieting a various sort of business, with signs atop of them to signify such. In far distance, I could distinctly hear the clanking of metals.
Trees and plants took refuge in large spaces between buildings, adding a more pleasing green upon the area. Unlike home, the sun wasn’t as scorching--though still blinding--and the lull of the wind made me think I could sleep here and wouldn’t even care.
Along the way, Vale narrated facts and stories about Charm Town, pointing buildings and shops to tell me their significance. Truthfully, the tour was a bit tense at first, what with the town’s inhabitants staring at me with apprehension and unease, but they were all wiped away upon the sight of Vale standing besides me.
All in all, it’s both a very surreal and interesting experience. After all, it’s not every day you get a tour by an alien in said alien’s hometown. It was even enough to get rid the sense of ‘patheticness’ and slight ‘self-pity’ that Terry plagued to me.
And by the end of the tour, the sky turning into a beautiful orange hue, we stopped in front of an establishment. An inn, if the sign and Vale’s word were to be trusted. ‘Sleepy Mare’ it said on the sign, depicting a caricature of what seemed to be a mare with a trail of Zs flying from the mare’s muzzle.
“I’m going to spend the night here, aren’t I?” I asked the obvious, and immediately palmed my face.
I heard the distinct noise of a chuckle from Vale. “Yes,” she told me, pressing her hoof against the inn’s swingdoor. “The owner is Calm Flake. Please do me a favore and be nice to him, alright?”
I nodded. What’s the point of saying no, anyway? “Sure thing.”
“Great.” And with that, we entered the inn.
…
It was sparser than I had first thought. In fact, if it wasn’t for Vale, I would’ve first thought the inn to be closed. My head swivelled round, finding empty seats, barely decorated tables, and a case of stairs over the far side of the expansive room.
Vale strode with her usual confident gait, her hooves clacking loudly in the eerily quiet establishment. Following her, I noted the bar we were heading. A vast shelf of all sorts of drinks behind the bar, causing me to give a triple-take and into a coughing fit.
Vale looked over her shoulder to give me an amused look, leaning against the bar. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice tinged with wry amusement. “You’re not the first to do that.”
I nodded, my eyes couldn’t quite stray from the collection of drinks. “Calm Flake must be one hell of an enthusiast,”
“He is.” she agreed. “The boys from the station love hanging in here when they’re off-duty.”
There’s a ringing bell resting innocuously on the bar, and without a second thought, Vale pushed it. In the silent room, the bell released ring! that sounded to thunderous than it usually should. There’s a muffled shout behind the bar’s backdoor.
Soon enough, the door opened and out walked leaf green pegasus. His braided silk white mane rested on the side of his name, bobbing alongside his steps as he calmly walked to the bar. He paused a bit when he caught sight of me, blue eyes widening slightly, but his demure expression returned when his eyes slid over to Vale.
He smiled, an exasperated mixed with amused on the edge of his lips. “I see you bring yet another odd guest, Chief Vale,”
His voice was soft and smooth with a touch of undeniable elegance. Shockingly so. I believe, if Vale hadn’t told me before, I had no doubt I would be fooled by his gender. Still, the ‘Chief’ title on Vale made me blink for a bit. When one thought of the title ‘Chief Police’, Vale certainly didn’t come to mind. I was thinking of something more gruff, bearded, and male. Yes, a bit sexist of me, but such was the world I and Terry lived.
A snort came from Vale, but she replied Flake with a smile of her own. “The world is full of interesting people,” she returned. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know them.”
The demure stallion replied with a chuckle. “Indeed?” He shook his head, and looked at me. “And what about you? Care to introduce yourself?”
“Uh,” I blinked at the sudden nervousness. Terry was nervous. Blood hell. What’s with the sudden loss of confidence? “Elliot Hintz.” I flashed him a Very Terrious smile. “Just call me Elliot, please.”
“Well, Chief Vale,” he nodded at her. “At least this one has decorum. So,” he softly tapped the floor. “How may I help you? A drink? It’s a bit early,” too early, if I had to opine. “But I believe time shouldn’t bind you whether you should drink or not.”
I shook my head almost immediately. “Later, perhaps.” I answered.
Vale let out a hum, and I looked at her. With her hoof tapping her chin, she looked kinda adorable in that huggable plushies way. “Perhaps tonight.” she answered. “I’m planning to treat my boys for tonight. I believe they deserve it. And,” she looked at me. “Perhaps I could introduce them to you?”
I didn’t see anything wrong with it. In fact, Terry seemed surprisingly eager at the offer. I cracked a grin and shrugged. “Sure, if you’re paying.”
She chuckled. “I will, I will. But in the meantime,” she returned to Flake. “Can I have one room for my friend here?”
I blinked. A sudden bursting and overflowing giddiness and joy that made me want to cry out in joy exploded in my chest. Instinctively, I covered my eyes. Dammit, Terry. He was practically like the sun inside me, and there and then, I had no doubt he could take control of his own body if he wanted. Only that he didn’t.
If both ponies seemed to notice my odd behaviour, they didn’t ask. Instead, Vale pulled out a pouch from her saddlebag and dropped three golden fucking coins onto the table. And as if it was normal—and it was—Flake simply picked the coins with his surprisingly dextrous wing and stored it under the bar.
“This is a happy day indeed,” he started suddenly, sighing in vague joy. “That in the first time since… I couldn’t remember, my inn actually served its purpose.” Vale snorted beside me. “Truly, this mentions for a celebration.” He pulled out a trio of shot glasses from under the bar, and began to start a complicated process of bartending with his wings. Soon, the glasses are filled with an unknown and colorful concoction. “Please, it’s in the house.”
Vale sighed, but didn’t say anything as she somehow grabbed the shot with her hoof. Flake grabbed his with his wing. They all stared at me, rising the glasses slightly up the air. Not one to be a party-pooper, I hesitantly grabbed my glass and raised it slightly.
“Cheers,” Flake said as our glasses clinked against each other. Immediately, they downed it down. Not to be beaten, I downed mine as well—
The liquid went down smoothly. It was delicious, with a hint of cinnamon and some unknown berries. The aftertaste was pleasant; a distinct taste of burning alcohol and mint. And oh wow, I was already tipsy with one shot. The warmth was incredibly pleasant though, reminding me of that time I drank hot chocolate in front of the furnace in snowing Berlin.
I wobbled, managing to take a step ahead to prevent me from tripping. My head moved on its own accordance. “That tasted great,” I noted, my voice slurring despite my effort preventing it.
Finding purchase on the bar, I leaned against it. Vale’s face was immediately upon me. Thankfully for my pride, it didn’t seem I was the only one affected by the alcohol. I still prided myself as a pretty competent drinker, after all.
She shot a reprimanding glare to Flake, who seemed to be smiling sheepishly. “You are lucky I’m off-duty, Flake,” despite her glare, there was no anger in her voice. In fact, her voice seemed to be in total control. Oh wow, I felt a sudden jealousy coming from my own feeling.
“Well,” By his voice, Flake didn’t seem to be drunk. Tilting my head, there wasn’t any hint that the alcohol even affected him. “In my defense, this is a very rare occurrence. Really, this is an inn, not a bar, yet ponies always come here for the drinks.” He lamented. “Even if I love them for it.”
Vale shot him a raised brow. “You do realize that we live in a rarely visited town, yes?”
Flake didn’t bother to refute Vale, and instead pulled out a key from under the bar, sliding them on the countertop. “Quite. Room 101. The best room in here.” He sighed. “It’s not like it’s ever used.”
You picked it up. “Uh, thanks, I think?”
“You are quite welcome, Elliot.” He waved a hoof dismissively, sweeping the three shot-glasses onto his wing. “Ring the bell if you need something. I’ll be drinking inside.”
And with that, he calmly swayed into the backdoor, placing the three glasses into the sink as he did so.
I shot Vale a look. Belatedly, I realized that my face was incredibly warm. It felt nice. Like swimming in a pool of warm water.
Vale exhaled a sigh, giving me a wry smile. “He’s a drunkard, but he’s a good stallion.” She said, not that she needed to. Carefully, she pulled my right hand and placed them upon her back. “Here, let me help you.”
I didn’t complain as much as I obeyed her. There were close calls, but Vale was shockingly strong for her size. Soon enough, we were standing before a wooden door with ‘101’ plastered on the door. The door clicked open as I turned the key, and I didn’t bother closing or locking the door before I quickly wobbled and fell over to the soft, fluffy and comfortable bed.
I heard a chuckle. “I’ll visit later, alright?”
I let out a last groan of affirmation before I let sleep claim my mind.
