Adrift

by Anonymity

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Human, Comedy, Adventure
Length: 1818

She's my angel from above. Sure, a pony at that, but she was mine. She kept me together when I was at the seams—threatening to fall apart because of this bizarre place. She gave me purpose in this world. This is my story. My life.

She's my angel from above. Sure, a pony at that, but she was mine ever since I found her as a filly. This cute, adorable, crazy, and full-of-laughs filly. She kept me together when I was at the seams—threatening to fall apart because of this bizarre place. She gave me purpose in this world.

I can't remember much of my past life, but this is my story. My life. And despite the absurdity of it all, it is mine.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-26 21:18:44 UTC

Chapter 1

Hey, you! Can I get some help over here?! Hello?!

I jerked my head off the ground. There had been a voice shouting in an anxious tone. “Hello?” I tried to respond. Instead, it came out in a hoarse, coughing gasp. Damn, was I thirsty.

“Over here!” the voice said. “Up! Up here!”

I did, and immediately regretted doing so. Have you ever woke up in the middle of the desert with a killer headache? Yeah, that wouldn't feel pleasant at all. In fact, that's exactly what it felt like for me. So my reaction was totally justified. “My eyes!” I yelled in absolute terror. “It burns! Oh wow, it freaking burns!”

Yep. Totally justified. But my throat had a different opinion and I fell into a coughing fit after that. Stupid throat. You're not supposed to have opinions. As soon as my throat and I reached an agreement, I rolled over so that my body was facing away from the retina-burning sky, my eyes watering and gladly shut.

“Uh, are you okay?!” I heard the distant voice above ask. “Do you need some help?!”

I groaned and kept my eyes closed.

“I think I might have a drink or something on me!”

Now that sounded delightful. “Sure,” I mumbled, barely moving as I lay on the ground. “Gimme.”

“What?! I can't hear you!”

I flinched. Was the shouting really necessary? Instead of repeating myself, I extended one of my hands to the direction I hoped the voice was coming from and made a come-hither gesture, but without all the... you know, hither. I was certainly not in the mood today.

“Uh, I'll take that as a yes! One fruit punch coming right up!” There was a very girly giggle. “Or should I say, coming right down?”

Oh goodie. Something to drink. I waited for the voice to deliver the drink to my outstretched hand. A few seconds later I heard a soft thump not far from me.

“Whoopsie!” the voice laughed nervously. “My bad!”

What the hell? I lowered my hand. The least they could've done was place it in my hand. Then again, I'm just assuming if that was even a possibility. The voice might be some kind of ghost or something. See? I can be smart. Sort of.

“Sorry about that mist—er, whatever you are!”

Huh. I decided to take a huge risk. I slowly opened my eyes. And immediately did not regret it.

My breath stopped cold despite the hot climate I felt around me. There, lying a few feet or so away from me, was Salvation. It was a juice box, fruit punch to be specific. But it was Salvation nonetheless.

I hastily grabbed the juice box, pulled out the straw already in the hole, and chugged the damned thing dry. It was half empty, but I didn't care. “Thanks,” I tried to say. It came out as a gurgle since my mouth was currently occupied with more important matters, but I still didn't care. “Thank God.”

“You're welcome!” said the girly voice.

I took a rasping breath and glanced at the now empty juice box in my hands. It was crushed, but my thirst wasn't fully sated. “You're not God,” I said, nursing my forehead. “You sound too girly and young.”

“No duh! I'm Pinkie Pie!” the voice from above said.

I blinked. Pinkie Pie? Seriously? Angels have really weird names. “So, uh,” I started lamely, “am I dead or what?”

“What did you say? I can't hear you that well from up here!”

I cleared my throat and yelled, “Am I dead!?”

Silence answered in kind. I began to feel a bit anxious since it felt like I was being judged by a being way, way higher than me. So I tried my best to look presentable. I sat up, bowed my head and kept my eyes closed to avoid the glare of the sun. And definitely not to avoid the glare of another being, honest. It wasn't much.

“Um,” the angel said after a few tense minutes. “I don't think so?”

“You're not sure if I'm dead?”

“Eh, I don’t think dead ponies can talk.”

“Oh.” So I could be dead. That sucks. What the hell am I supposed to do if I'm dead? I don't know how this whole dead concept works. It's not like I have an instruction manual or anything like that. She mentioned something about ponies but that’s probably her odd sense of humor talking. Angels are weird.

“Hey, you!” Pinkie Pie interrupted my thoughts. “What's your name?!”

Now that threw me into a loop. What was my name? Those things are important, right? If I remember correctly, names are part of who you are. Yeah, that makes sense. So the question is, who am I? “I'm, uh,” I stumbled, searching through my seemingly non-existent memories. “Robin.”

“Robin?!” There was giggling that, surprisingly, brought a smile upon my face. “That's a funny name!”

I was Robin. The nineteen year old, no wait twenty-four? Anyhow, I'm pretty sure I was fairly young and...damn, all I have are memories that make little to no sense. “Yeah, well, you don't hear me judging you little miss angel from above,” I retorted in a joking tone.

“I am not little! I'm Pinkie Pie!” she replied, matching my tone. “And, um, I might need a little help.”

I tilted my head, a bit confused. Help? An angel needs help? Boy, was I in some weird funk. Hopefully not drugs or something hazardous to my health. I cleared my head and decided to finally take account of the situation and my surroundings—which was terribly long overdue.

First things first, check my person for any bodily harm. I wore brown khakis and worn down gray skateboard shoes, not much wrong going on there. I checked my pockets and found an empty leather wallet and nothing else, there wasn't even a card to confirm my identity. A sense of dread went down my spine. Then I noticed that I was freaking shirtless and perhaps I've mistaken the sense of dread for just being cold. Until I remembered that it was hot, like really hot. At least there was a mild breeze. Great, I was probably beaten up and robbed or something. Left to die or probably already dead.

I slipped the wallet back into a pocket. I couldn’t live in my current state without a shirt. Not in this weather. I also felt self-conscious, clothing is mainly for comfort reasons. I don't consider myself large or anything, since there was nothing to show. Not much muscle or fat to be honest. I can't even remember if I used to work out. I shook my head, stood up, and took in my surroundings. Red. There was red everywhere other than the cloudless sky. A desert. Not the endless, sandy desert kind. More like the dry, flat desert you see in Australia or something like that. The sun must've rose quite recently since it wasn't that high in the sky. I paused. It could be the other way around since I didn't know many ways of confirming the direction of east or west, so sunset or noon might be approaching. I guess I'll just have to watch the sun's position.

“Wowie, you're big mister Robin! Even from up here!” Pinkie Pie said. “What are you?”

I didn't respond. My mind was too busy freaking out. I mean, what the hell?! I wake up in a damn desert?!

“Uh, are you okay?”

I trembled in place. “N-no,” I said, choosing my words carefully. I didn't want to scare little miss angel. Besides, she gave me fruit punch. “I'm definitely not okay.”

“Okay. I mean, alright,” she paused. “So what are you?”

My eyes were closed and I kept my breathing paced. Be calm. Focus on breathing. I won't accomplish much by freaking out now. Once I was certain I that wouldn’t happen, I responded, “I'm just some guy.”

There was another set of giggles. It sounded beautiful, to be honest. Innocent. Harmonious. It was soothing and it helped slow down the onslaught of fear.

“No, silly. What are you?” I could hear the smile in her voice as she asked. “I've never seen anything like you before!”

“Huh,” I said, in disbelief. I looked around and still couldn't find the angel. “You've never seen a human before?”

“Nope!”

I threw up my arms in exasperation “What kind of angel are you?”

“Angel?” Pinkie Pie pronounced slowly, like she was saying the word for the first time in her life. “What's that? I'm a pony!”

“Wha—” I was interrupted when I felt a strong breeze blow sand straight into my face. I turned around to avoid getting more sand in the face and sputtered. “Bleh!”

“Oh-woah!”

I heard Pinkie Pie shouting over the wind, but I could barely understand what she said. There were a few things I heard her say, but only one mattered the most to me.

“Help!”

My breath hitched. Pinkie Pie was in trouble. She had helped me damn it. And now I had a chance to respond in kind. I couldn’t ignore her cry for help.

The sand prickled against my skin which wasn’t very painful. I would survive. Probably. I slowly got on my feet and attempted to traverse with both arms covering my face, but sand still managed to get in my eyes. I couldn't see much. As soon as I blinked more sand would just enter my eyes, so I kept them shut. My steps felt heavy. I tried calling her name through the harsh wind, which wasn’t the smartest idea. I sputtered and coughed as sand entered my mouth and nose. It was a futile attempt, which lasted for approximately a minute. I ended up tripping over something—a rock most likely.

I lay on the ground, face down, and decided that maybe it was for the best if I waited for the storm to pass. It died down eventually. I don't remember when it stopped or how long it lasted. In the heat of the moment it could've been minutes or hours. It doesn't matter now. What did matter was finding her. Oh, and surviving in the freaking desert. I'm pretty sure I wasn't dead or under some kind of illusion since my whole body was in pain. I mean, I could definitely taste the sand—it was tasteless and unpleasant as always. The heat on my back was unrelenting and would probably kill me before anything else had the chance.

Something bumped against my leg as I lay on the ground. I will not say that I screamed a girly scream which would have made little miss angel pony Pinkie Pie proud. I will not say that it was just the juice box that I dubbed Salvation. And I will not say that I tripped over it during the brief sandstorm.