Author's Note
Welcome to The Diary. This story was posted a long time ago, but is now being re-written. Updates will happen periodically without schedule.
Beginning Entry
I miss home.
I guess that's the first thing that comes to mind when I think about what to write in this thing. I really don't know what else to say. Life has changed considerably, and won't be the same for a long, long time. I'm scared, in all honesty, but I won't let any of my friends know that. If they knew I was scared, who else could they rely on to get out of this mess?
I suppose I'll begin with who I am, and when all of this really began.
My name is Jackson Mildez. I'm twenty-four, and used to work as a construction worker. It was a difficult job, but it was mindless. I just moved a thing from point A to point B, and made sure it stayed put. It was extremely simple, and it paid decently well. I didn't have to worry about not having anything to eat, or if I needed to repair my car. I could even afford luxuries every couple of months. It was better than most would have.
That's not to say that I haven't had my share of troublesome times.
As a child, my life wasn't exactly fun. I missed out on a lot of school because things needed to be taken care of at homE. My family wasn't exactly accepted in society all that much. Mainly because my mother and father were still new to English, and mainly only spoke Spanish. Growing up in America though had taught me English fairly quickly, so I often acted as a translator.
Food was scarce sometimes, money more-so. We would often work for food instead of money, which meant that things like electricity or running water were rare. I felt pretty useless at that time, as I was too young to get an official job, and I was too busy working at home instead of going to school. I had very little education for a long time, and very little social interaction besides my family.
I didn't really feel loved for a long time. I had two sisters and an older brother. I was the youngest, yet the trope of the youngest being the most spoiled didn't play out in my family. It actually meant that I got all the old stuff from my older siblings, and I didn't get fed a whole lot because I wasn't as big. If you weren't as big, that meant you didn't have to eat much, right? Despite days on end of me going to bed hungry and complaining to my mom and dad, they'd always make a joke how I could just 'find a new family' if i'm that upset.
I love them, but sometimes it hurt.
Anyways. As I grew older, around sixteen, I got a job. It wasn't anything special, just a gas station job. It felt so good to finally provide something to my family for once, and to help with my own money. If I was hungry, I could go buy something for myself and the family. It was honestly the moment that I finally understood what helping the family out really meant. but thing's didn't go well for too long.
Eighteen years old, and my father picked up drinking. Heavy drinking, with anything he could afford. Money went to that instead of food, and often it would cause my family to have arguments. Around this time, my cousins, all way younger than me, had moved in with us. Without money to feed them, they began to get sick.
I felt selfish, but I knew I needed to move. I couldn't help everyone around me, and I understood that. I saved up as much money as I could and left in the middle of the night with all the stuff I could carry. I got on a bus and traveled from New Mexico to Texas. Once I got there, I stayed in a hotel that night while the paperwork I had just got done signing for an apartment was being processed.
The next day, I had an apartment.
It was a piece of shit, but it worked. I didn't stay there for too long, and after getting a construction job over in Denver, I immediately moved over. We eventually switched from Denver to Cheyenne Wyoming, but either way, I wasn't in a shitty place no more. Good pay, good apartment, good life.
And on my twenty-fourth birthday, everything went to shit.
I got home after a long day of work, and I felt quite proud of myself for how much I got done. I even got offered a cupcake by Marquell, one of my coworkers. I'll tell you, it was weird getting something for my birthday. It was the first time I was actually given something even close resembling a cake. I took it with a happy smile and thanked him for it.
I went straight for my room after I took my shoes and jacket off, and I immediately laid into bed without a second thought. My body sunk into the cushion, my muscles and bones beginning to ache after not having any pressure put on any of it. I'll tell you, after a hard day of work, the worst feeling is finally being able to relax. All those strained muscles finally letting go is some of the worst shit ever.
I laid there for a good couple of minutes, before I eventually passed out.
And, when I woke up, I definitely wasn't in my room. Instead, I was in the middle of a burning forest. Yeah, that's right, a burning forest. It wasn't a nice thing to wake up to. I remember when I sat up and looked around, I saw what looked like to be wooden wolves, which I now know to be called Timberwolves. Quite an ironic name.
Without second thought or questioning my surroundings, I immediately ran in the opposite direction of those wolves. I didn't stop until I felt like I was decently far away that I didn't have to worry about them smelling me or something. And, I eventually came to a cliff.
A cliff that overlooked a burning town.
A town that I would later know to be called: Ponyville.
