Your Human And You: Boggs

by Desmond O-Farrel

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Human, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 1035

Equus is a land of talking ponies, griffins, minotaurs, zebras, and so many fantastical creatures the humans of Earth could ever think possible. Boggs is one of those humans; well, he was anyway.

Equus is a land of talking ponies, griffins, minotaurs, zebras, and so many fantastical creatures the humans of Earth could ever think possible. Boggs is one of those humans; well, he was. Before he was shot in the street by some low-life and woke up here. It's not the Heaven he'd imagined, nor is it the one that was promised in the Bible, so the Church has some explaining to do if he ever finds a way back. That's assuming he can go back, that is. He'd learned how to live off of the land, and then…they came. Now he's on a train to God-knows-where, just hoping that this railroad from Hades doesn't lead where he thinks it does.
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Cover art by VirginieCarquin on DeviantArt: http://virginiecarquin.deviantart.com/
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This takes place in the Your Human And You AU, but is not canonical to that story or any other split-off fictions taking place in the same AU.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-25 01:48:22 UTC

Prologue

Death, for all humans, is the grand final mystery. The Reaper comes for us all in time, whether believe in him or not. The inky, dark, abyssal nothingness of death was, in a word, terrifying to think about. So, according to atheists and so-called 'rationalists', we created religion as a coping mechanism. Of course I'm not an atheist- I'm as Christian of a man now as I was at my baptism. Even so, the question of what happens after death has, as it does all humans, plagued me throughout my life. Maybe I'm wrong, and there isn't a Heaven or a Hell; maybe it's just inky nothingness; maybe the Hindus and Buddhists are right, and we re-incarnate after each death. There's only one way to know for sure, and dead men tell no tales.

  Then again, I'm not an atheist. Even through everything that's happened- and is still happening- to me, I've not lost faith. It's a hard thing for me, or anyone for that matter, to do. Giving up faith is like giving up a part of yourself- it hurts, and there's rarely a logical reason for it in my eyes. Living in a weird, forested Purgatory is hardly how I'd imagined my afterlife would go, however. It was also a bit of a shock to find out that I still had to eat and drink in Purgatory, but I suppose it could be argued that you aren't fully dead until your soul enters Heaven or Hell. That would explain why I still had to eat.

What it didn't explain, though, was why I didn't have a bullet hole in my chest. Unless the Reaper has some super-machine that tells him the cause of death the instant the person dies- which, while not impossible, I highly doubt- then I'll assume that Purgatory's just weird like that. I could live with a few unanswered mysteries in my afterlife. It's not like I wanted to know the meaning of life, or if I'd ever see my family again, or anything like that. I was dead, and that was that. There's no undoing death- not for a mortal man. Was I sad about leaving my family behind in such a senselessly violent way? Of course I was. No-one should ever have to suffer through grief knowing that their loved one was taken in a violent manner. But that didn't matter now, I suppose. My time had come, and it had been decided I'd die in a violent way. I wasn't happy about it, but I could accept it.

My little camp was nothing to get in a tizzy about, but it wasn't something to disregard, either. A fire in the center, a make-shift tent off to the side, a little log bench- it actually reminded me of the camping trips my dad would take me on. We'd always had such fun, even when dad wasn't as young as he was when I'd been a child. He'd had me take him out there on his last day. It was pretty, as I recall: the birds were singing sweet songs, the woodland creatures were fiddling about, and me and dad were there on the edge of the lake, fishing. I hadn't noticed when he'd finally gone, and I think that was his intent. We'd run out of topics for conversation, so we were just waiting for something exciting to happen. It was peaceful when he closed his eyes for the last time- so peaceful I had barely heard his last chuckle over the sound of the soft breeze. While it was sad to think about dad, there were plenty of fond memories I could look back on. Even the last trip was a good one, despite it holding one of the saddest moments of my life. I still look back on it sometimes. Sometimes I even crack a smile, or chuckle.

I was in the middle of reminiscing when it happened. A loud "NOW!" came from the bushes, and all at once at least five horses came out from the edges of my camp. I'd seen them before, though not up close. I'd followed trails they left behind, and i'd watched them...capture humans. I guess capture was the right word for it, but I could be wrong. Why would they want me though? I decided I'd do what I always did in these situations, and ran.

Well, I tried to run anyway. There were more behind me, and there wasn't any getting past them. I was honestly panicking a little bit, and that's not good for a man of my age.

One of the horses, one I assumed was a girl, started talking in this calm voice. It was actually a little soothing, but the reality of the situation I was in kept creeping back up on me. There was no way I could run, and it would've been madness to try and fight, so I did the only thing left to do: I got on my knees and put my hand on my head. Yeah, I said hand- as in a singular hand. I lost my arm a while back, in the war against ISIS. Bright side was that I got a few extra veteran's benefits and a swanky medal for my trouble. Not that it mattered much now. The girl horse looked at me with a bit of confusion in her eyes when I surrendered. I guess this wasn't what they were used to having happen when they captured humans.

Her coat was a pretty yellow, and looked like it was actually really soft. Her eyes were this strange mix of sea green and teal, but I couldn't decide which was more prominent. Her mane and tail were some of the strangest parts of her body. They were, in a word, pink. Not a typical pink, but more of a garden rose pink. I missed my garden. The smell of the petunias and hyacinths wafting through the morning air was one of the best parts of my day. I guess it was ironic that it was the last thing I smelled before I felt something hit the back of my head, and everything went black.