The ticking in the room at least was familiar. Tick tock.
It provided some comfort as being the only thing that still made sense, that I recognized from my memories. Memories that were either now missing a big piece or never had been true memories connected to experiences at all.
The previous evening, I go to bed, everything is as it should be. Order. Peace. Tranquility. This morning, I wake up, any trace of that is gone. Everything. Every little thing. My mind, in chaos, louder than it ever seems to have been and thousand thoughts running through it, every one of them cut short by the next one before they can become something coherent at all. It was giving me a headache already. What is this, this – why is it happening? When... how did... who could... but what should I ... do? No – can't be... stop.
Yeah, stopping listening to the tangled mass that were my thoughts seemed like a good idea. I forced myself to focus on the clock again as I laid still. Tick Tock. Watch as the fin... wait, what was the term for those things walking around the clock again?
The word I was thinking of sounded unfitting now, silly even. Why would that be? What other word... wait, no. Focus, C... wait, my name never started with an C, what was going on, could I no longer remember my name? Uhhh... I scrunched up my face in confusion and annoyance. With eyes now closed, I wondered what else I had forgotten, before trying to push these thoughts away again. They weren't helping at all, they were only making things complicated. Sigh.Let me just ignore everything at the moment. The room, my, uh, condition, the whole world if it gives me a bit of my inner peace back.
When I opened my eyes again, I tried again to look at the time-telling device on the blank white wall and let its ticking calm me down. Tick Tock, Tick Tock. It proved to be surprisingly effective, and for a moment my stream of thoughts calmed down and I thought I could hear birds singing outside, probably through an open window behind me and the bed I was currently still laying.
I hadn't really moved since I woke up, only twitched at best. Everything about my body had felt completely wrong and alien ever since I wake up for some reason, and I wanted to avoid increasing that feeling by moving limbs unnecessarily. Still, I hadn't been able to ignore some of the more obvious changes about myself, especially when they were also literally in front of, or rather behind my nose.
Suddenly I was interrupted in my train of thought when I heard a knock on the door, situated right on the opposite wall a few steps away from where I uncomfortably lay. A quick glance at the clock showed that both of the time-pointing-thingy, whatever its proper name was, laid at 12. A voice in the back of my mind seemed to suggest it was lunch, but who eats lunch in bed? Only those too sick to leave it, and I had been healthy as a pony when I had gone to bed, hadn't I? Wait, that doesn't sound right, I probably mixed two idioms here. Oh well.
The door swung open, revealing ... someone walking on four legs pushing a tray on wheels with a covered plate on it into the room. The being had what seemed like gray coat, huge green eyes, a snout in which a key ring was being carried and large, longish ears. The overall build, especially the face seemed vaguely feminine. Definitely no human, though, no. And as much as I had tried to not think about it, ... I couldn't deny that neither was I anymore, from what I had noticed.
The key ring was now placed next to the dish, and a clearly feminine voice spoke to me:
„Hey there, my little pony. Hope you're feeling better today. Here's some nice hot steaming soup for lunch”
Yep, that's what I was now apparently. Sure look different than what I always had thought a pony looks like, especially since my coat seemed to be a completely dull red color everywhere, and my arms... forelegs... whatever seemed to bend at odd angles, but otherwise, I could feel my ears, fuzzy triangles that previously were neatly folded down against my head, now putting themselves up and moving around erratically, an involuntary and strange sensation, yet somehow comforting by virtue of an inexplicable familiarity, as if I had done it thousands time before… yet a part of me clearly claimed to knew that there was no way this could be, since in all my current memories that I could still distinguish from the general fog that seemed to have laid itself on my mind I was nothing like this.
Though it became increasingly difficult to tell what was a memory of an actual event, what was a dream I once had and what was picked up from the countless fantasy books I tended to devour. Now that I was thinking about it, and I was really starting to feel as if I was doing that way too much, yet it seemed like I couldn't stop, as if I was going down a slipperly slope in my own head, I realized my memory was getting more and more holes by the minute.
My heart started racing, pounding against my chest, my throat seemed to be closing up, and what seemed to be the mane running down my neck was now upright, too, in fact, I could feel hair all over my body stand up, in some goosebumps-fashion.
What was going on? Why was I forgetting things that seemed so clear a few moments ago?
I wanted to just stare at the opposite wall, a sea of white and nothing else, to space out and help me get away from these thoughts running at full gallop… another strange idiom, anyway, my attempt was hindered by my my extended nasal bridge showing up in my field of vision, ending in two nostrils right above my mouth. Having now started to fully realize everything about my body, with all the resulting chaoting thoughts firing like a sparkler, I was feeling like an anvil had been dropped on me... A strong dull pain, worse than any headache I remember having seemed to pulsate inside my skull, and I felt unable to move or form a clear, coherent thought, as my brain seemed to have more and more problems processing all these sensations that in the end weren't nearly as alien as they should be… finally culminating in the thought, why could I even remember being a human in the first place, when it's clear as day I'm a pony?
That was apparently enough for my overwrought nerves to give in, and as my psyche lay finally completely in shambles, everything quickly went black around me, the scream of the nurse barely registering in my mind anymore.
Author's Note
Thanks for reading.
This story is loosely inspired by Asylum, but takes place in its own world.
I resisted being waken up several times, preferring the sweet silence and peaceful emptiness of the oblivion of sleep far to the feeling of burning down of my mind I had gone through earlier on, a hellish feeling of going insane only cut short by the merciful blacking out.
But finally I knew, while sighing internally, that I had to open my eyes, even if only to let the poor woman – mare, I guess worry anymore and show that I'm still alive and conscious, even if seems like this is only barely the case. Aside from that, the shaking made it impossible to rest anyway.
So I did, and immediately regretted doing it too quickly, for I still wasn't prepared for the sight of two seemingly way too large heads being mere inches from me. Huge eyes were probing me, and words that were probably supposed to be comforting, or asking how I'm doing seemed to come to my way. I was too exhausted to pay any attention to it.
Their now notably upward curved mouths were almost touching mine. Seriously, it's as if the concept of personal space stops existing as soon as you're in a hospital, or wherever I was. I couldn't remember, and what little I did I didn't trust anymore.
I felt like there wasn't at the moment anything I could trust, not even myself. Especially not myself. Not just my memories, I still wasn't sure how what I was seeing, hearing and feeling in my fin-, ugh, hooves, on my face and all over my body could possibly be real, and not be a freaky dream or something. I've had them before, you're always convinced they're real before you wake up, dumbfounded. A way to tell whether you was in was to watch out for inconsistencies, like clocks not matching up or randomly jumping from one time to another, or other physical impossibilities.
Though who knows for how long I was out? It could have been for minutes, hours or even a day. Looking at the clock would tell me nothing now about that. It's so frustrating, and at the same time, so eerily chilling, not to know where you are, who you are and if what you're experiencing is even real.
Maybe I'd already lost my mind and was going through an episode of psychosis? But then, and maybe I was just thinking this to reassure me at least a bit, hardly knowing anything about what such episodes were supposed to be like, how could I be able to reflect on myself?
Hey, a voice inside me seemed to suddenly say, why not ask those two next to you?
At first I scoffed at the thought, asking someone whether they were real? Just in case I'd like to give a better impression than that, lest I also get some straitjacket put on or who knows what.
Not that, you doofus. Ask them what happened and why you're here. They look like they're concerned about you and your well-being, they'll surely give you some answers at least.
That actually doesn't sound too stupid. Might even be the best thing I could do in this situation. Both of them had in the meantime shifted their attention away from me, and were busy talking with each other. I opened my mouth to speak, but somehow seemed unable to produce any sound, only some puffing and panting, as if I was terribly hoarse.
Still, this seemed to have been noticed what seemed to be the doctor, another vaguely equine-shaped creature, this time in a pale yellowish color, and the gray nurse. They turned to me again, and the former started to speak, but I struggled to make out the words.
“… doing? … hope … better”
Better? Well, my racing thoughts had at least turned into a less bothering background noise by now, laying like a thick layer of fog on my mind. Other than that, well, even though I feel worse than earlier, I guess stopping trying to ignore what has been happening is some sign of progress, too.
“… need to . … this, ...'s good and … “
The nurse put a wooden rest for the bowl on my bed in front of me. I was still laying on my back, and had at first no idea how to eat it, but I think I heard her, barely audibly, telling me to lift it with my upper appendages to my mouth. It was awkward, but in the end I managed to not spill too much on myself or the blanket, which, considering how delicious this vegetable soup turned out to be, would have lamentable. Or maybe it was nice to finally come across something that was nourishing and didn't make my mind race like a forest river after heavy rain.
“Thanks” I finally managed to blurt out after finishing.
Before I could say anything else, the doctor in yellow approached me again. With my hunger, that I hadn't been aware of earlier, now satiated and my mind somewhat calmer, it seems like my sensitive, and ugh, moving ears were able to pick up more words, too. They instinctively turned towards him.
“…an see that the soup did you do some good. You seemed to really need it. Now, you might be momentarily disoriented and wonder where you are.
Rest assured, you're safe here and nothing bad can happen to you here. This is the “”, a sanatorium and healing place for all equines in need for some peace and rest.
I know you will probably have a lot of questions, but you still need to regain your energy before you are able to take in everything. “
In fact, my mind was still so foggy that despite my nagging confusion and curiosity I decided to agree with him, and not argue about it. He was right, after all. Even though I must have slept for a long time, or been in a coma or what not, I need some time to rest from what definitely was the most stressful waking up I had ever experienced.
It had felt like gently floating on the sea towards to the coast only to be tossed against some beach rocks the moment I opened my eyes.
Yet I didn't want to sleep now, maybe because I had just had an involuntarily nap some minutes ago. My look turned to a book on my nightstand, standing to the right side of me. I tried to reach out to it, but it felt awkward doing that with no fingers, and so I only managed a clumsy attempt that resulted in the rather large tome falling to the ground in a large thud.
This drew the attention of nurse, who simply asked:
“Do you want me to give it to you? I'm not sure if you're rested enough to read much yet, but maybe it can help you calm down a bit. You seemed rather upset earlier, almost like you were seeing a ghost from a nightmare you had still in front of you. Either way, it must have terrified you a lot.”
She picked it up with a blaze from her horn and continued:
“Your sister told me it's your favorite book, and that you liked to read it over and over again, each time apparently getting so wrapped up in its world that you were barely approachable.”
She chuckled. The book gravitated in a bright aura towards me, landing on the blanket directly before my … er, muzzle, I guess.
“Here it is. 'Lady of the Necklaces'. A fantasy classic, isn't it? Tyniers, wizards, titans, brokenbolts, heyoumuhns and so many other beings. It always sounded very interesting to me, but the sheer length of it has always made me put it off for later.”
I looked at her slightly skeptically, and then at the simple, but nonetheless rather fancy cover. It only had the title in golden letters on it, surrounded by a rectangle stretching across almost all of the front with a similar color, on a forest green background.
It's so worth it, though. I never regretted a single second spent with the book. I thought, and instantly wondered where that had come from.
I couldn't actually recall spending any time with this book at all, yet it still did somehow feel very familiar and I couldn't think of anything else that would explain that stray thought. Maybe it was some kind of suppressed memory? But why would I suppress something that seemed like such a happy time?
I was interrupted in my ruminations when the nurse continued:
“I heard they were making a new play based on it, too.”
The book is so much better, though. I saw the old play and it didn't do any of the characters justice and all of the story was so terribly rushed.
… There, another one of these memories, it seems. Maybe reading the book will help me make sense of everything, and myself, too. In any case it seemed to have a very calming on me. For a moment, all of my anxiety, confusion, and pain were as if vanished, and I actually felt a bit relaxed, even if still tense.
With a reminder to get some proper sleep later on, I was now left alone.
Now that there was silence in the room again, aside from the ticking of the clock, I could hear birds singing outside again. It was beautiful, pure and melodious, signaling that it was actually much too nice of a day to spend it inside. But I still felt weak, and wasn't sure if I even could make it outside even if I wanted to. Almost as if I hadn't really walked much in who knows how long, and at the moment walking on four legs seemed almost frighteningly complicated, not to mention weirdly alien. Also, the bed was comfortable and I had a book to read.
With some difficulty I managed to crack it open, and carefully turned the pages to chapter one.
“The continent is divided into seven parts, divided by mountains, rivers and heard fought-for land borders going through forests and open fields. … “
Several hours later, I finally managed to put it down and go to sleep.
