Macro/Micro Flash Fic Collection Vol 2

Version: 1

Her head was throbbing. Pain came in waves, washing over her skull and radiating through the back of her eyes. The mare groaned weakly in her agony as memories and thoughts seemed to stir and mix in a soup that made no sense. Where was she? What had happened to her? Even trying to open her eyes burned. Her mouth was somehow dry and she was drooling at the same time. She could feel saliva leaking from her open maw even as she tried to pull her lips closed. It was then she realized she was sprawled out on her side with her head propped up on... something. It felt like a rock, but it was a bit crumbly too. Maybe it was a pile of gravel. Her ears were ringing so she couldn't even hear the stones shifting as she did.

The mare's limbs were heavy. They were difficult to so much as twitch. It was like her every muscle was paralyzed. For several terrible moments all she could do was breathe. Slow gulps of air. Her senses were at war, trying to decide if she was in pain or numb. Her fur tingled. Was that a breeze or a phantom sensation from her abused head? Memories still refused to arrange themselves. She continued to lie there while the ringing died down and her eyes quit rejecting the light.

There was a whistling in the air. Like flies or gnats. How bad was her head wound that she was being swarmed? As her mind at last began to collect, a mild panic blossomed. She had been hurt and it was likely serious. She had a vague image of an impact to the back of her skull. Something sudden and hot. Her breathing intensified, deepened. She managed to move one of her legs. Sand? The ground parted as she dragged her hoof across the surface. Her vision was still blurry with tears as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She blinked repeatedly and turned her head. The stone crumbled beneath her jaw. It wasn't gravel. Where was she?

With a tremendous outpouring of will, the mare managed to lift her head and suddenly felt sweat dribbling down her face. She was hot, baking in the sun. A hoof swept underneath her as she tried to roll into a proper resting position. Her limbs ached as though she had been on a long run. She was suddenly out of breath and struggled to keep her eyes open. Consciousness threatened to leave her. It was like a dream. Nothing felt real. She tried to shake her head to wake herself up, but only succeeded in maximizing the pain in the back of her head. She gasped and grit her teeth, struggling to endure. The seconds ticked by and the whining of the insects died down. It was quiet as she mustered enough mental strength to try studying her surroundings properly.

She was baffled. Square gray stones coated the ground all around her except wherever her hooves touched or where her body had previously been laying. The blocky rock was incredibly fragile and disintegrated with the slightest touch. However, the strange geological formation only extended a few steps in all directions before being replaced by a green carpet occasionally cut by little black or gray lines, turning it into a patchwork green quilt. This region too appeared to be very fragile as she could clearly see two columns of circular brown dents leading over a small hill towards the horizon.

Hoof prints. They were... her hoof prints. And they led from her current position, through the field of stones, and over the emerald carpet. Now she knew where she had come from, but her memories were still blurry. She remembered... fun. She was laughing. No dancing? Maybe both? She rubbed her temple, trying to sooth the raging headache. A tiny sound made her blink at the stones currently beneath her muzzle. Were those... bugs?!

Alarm and disgust ran through the mare. This wasn't some field of stones. It was a hive for some breed of insects. Yet, despite her extreme desire to get away, her legs were still too weak and her energy too low. She was surrounded by little moving dots and couldn't escape. It was a revelation that made her want to cry. However, as her head turned away from the squirming movements in some hopeless attempt to distance her fragmented mind from the horror, her eyes fell upon the prints again. Her prints. They were the only set. She was alone. She had come out here herself. Why? Why would she step into the middle of a bug nest? The mare glanced down, trying to remember. Was there something important about these minuscule creatures? Reluctantly, but desperate to reclaim her memories, the mare lowered her head and faced one of her eyes down.

She observed the bugs scurrying movements for a time. She studied their appearance. She analyzed their hive. The sense of familiarity was overwhelmingly strong. She was so close to understand -- oh...

Her eyes widened as everything came back to her.

She was a macro, a giant pony, and she'd been in the middle of rampaging through a helpless little city when one of their "super weapons" must have hit her. She began to glare at the pests. They got craftier every year. When were they going to simply accept that they only existed for her entertainment? Stupid bugs.