A World Awayby StratoPegasusChaptersOctober 22, 1914November 3, 1914November 14, 1914November 16, 1914October 22, 1914At the advice of my beloved Elizabeth, I have begun to keep a journal of my thoughts and experiences as a soldier in the Royal Scots Fusiliers. Many of my squad-mates also seem to have taken to journal writing, but they seem to be doing it out of some inflated idea of grandeur, as if the pages they write will soon be in the pages of schoolbooks. I wish I could have such optimism, I’m only writing as a way to try to keep my sanity. I feel that if I can get my thoughts out of my head and onto the paper, they won’t be stuck in my mind, slowly ravaging me from the inside-out. In my first month in the trenches I have made several acquaintances. Wilfred, also a man of 20, whose family has a cereal farm in the Scottish country side. After the war he hopes to go back to his family and continue the farm for the next generation. Isaac, 19, from Edinburgh, who wants to attend the University of Edinburgh’s School of Engineering when he returns to civilian life, and Felix, 17, from Elgin, Moray, who wishes to join the Catholic Priesthood after the war. Life in the trenches can best be described as...dynamic - long hours of quietness interjected with moments of chaotic fighting on some days, endless gunfire and shelling the next. One quickly learns to live without cycle and uniformity out here. Being ready for anything at a moments notice is a mindset that one will eventually fall into should they spend enough time out here. I know I have. You must if you want to keep your sanity. Death is viewed in a very paradoxical way, out here. We are surrounded by it, yet we choose to marginalize it, for the sake of our daily functionality. Every now and again a man who is standing one moment will be on the ground, dead, the next, having stood too high at the wrong moment and being struck down by a sniper on the other side of No Man's Land. A clean, quick way to go...they are the lucky ones. Most don’t die so well. A less accurate bullet...being in the wrong place at the wrong time when a shell falls...the dreaded chlorine gas, I’ve seen many men die these ways. It’s slow...painful...messy, and those who are rescued and given medical treatment only have a marginally better chance at survival, their pain often just extended. If anything, medicine has become an act of cruelty, rather than an act of kindness. Yet once they died, they met the same fate as those who died quickly - a shallow grave. Out of sight and out of mind...and life for the living continues. Such is life in war time. November 3, 1914Over the last three nights I’ve begun to have the most peculiar dreams...recurring dreams. They are so out of the ordinary that I feel I must write about them. I suppose it is a blessing, it's gotten me back into this journal, this being only my second entry. They go as follows: They each seem to start the same way. I wake up in a field of tall grass, in the middle of a plain that continues for miles in all directions. The sky is a vivd blue, a comforting sun beating down on my skin. At the same time a gentle breeze works it’s way through my hair. The air smells fresh...sweet, an atmosphere that has never been tainted by the odor of gun powder and death that marks the air in these trenches. Beyond these plains, tall mountains tower over the landscape, mighty slabs of rock capped with snow. I look out onto what I can only assume is the west and I see, of all things, what looks like a kingdom carved into the mountainside! A beautiful, gleaming, regal castle of high golden and ivory spires, looking out over this pristine land. Water flows from the mountainside and through the kingdom, snaking it’s way to the overhanging side, from which it falls to the surface in a waterfall that seems to drop for miles. Even from my position miles away, I could feel the power that it exudes. It humbled me where I lay. Opposite this marvel was a kingdom even more incredible, being built completely from what I can tell, on a layer of thick, puffy clouds. It’s incredible defiance of the laws of nature are almost nearly paralleled by it’s incredible grandeur. It has an almost Roman architecture to it, even being complete with a colosseum! Like the mountain kingdom it radiates might. Clouds almost seem like they are part of the kingdom's very construction, forming the whole of many structures entirely! Like the mountain kingdom, waterfalls peppered the kingdom's landscape. Not only that though, but rainbows were falling from this place, as well! They weren't like waking Rainbows, though. They had mass, it looked like they could be physically held. Beneath both of these marvels lie a small, quaint village. The houses appear to be made of a variety of materials, ranging from wood to thatch, there even appears to be a structure made directly out of a tree! The occasional hot air balloon would either rise or fall into this village, most finding their ways to either of previously mentioned kingdoms. This place didn't exude might as much as it exuded life. From a distance I could tell it was a happy place. I’m overtaken by the sudden urge to walk toward this village. I rise from my spot on the ground and start my journey. I am without shoes, but even if I had them, I would probably opt to take them off anyway, the grasses being as soft as a fine rug. After several minutes of walking I am approached by a most fascinating creature...what looks like a miniature horse! A mare from what I could presume. But she was not like any horse I’ve seen before. She was small, standing maybe four feet tall at most, her body was short and very curvy, a pair of wings attached at her shoulders (horses can fly in this world?). She had a symbol on her thigh, it looked like three pink butterflies. She had a long, curved neck, with a roundish head set upon it. She had a very petite muzzle, much smaller than any horse of the waking world. Her coloring was even stranger than her shape. She had short, yellow fur, and long, waving pink hair, the kind of hair I can only presume an angel would have. And her eyes, oh her eyes! I’ve never seen something so beautiful. They’re big, filled with a cornucopia of greenish blue. They were bigger than any eyes I have ever seen on a creature her size before. The natural light shined off of them, given them a constant twinkle. They are so expressive! A most peculiar looking creature...yet so beautiful. She has a sense of fearful curiosity in her eyes, obviously just as perplexed about my appearance as I was to hers! Even though we had only just met, and I had no idea whether she could understand me or not, I have the sudden urge to speak to her, as if I know she’ll understand. But as soon as I spoke one word, her fear must have conquered her curiosity and she darted off, trotting for several feet before opening her wings and flying off into the distance. Soon after I awake, the usual sights, sounds, and smells of the trenches overtaking the beauty that moments before dominated my mind. What’s more, when I wake from these dreams, I’m left with a most unusual feeling. It’s not the feeling of waking from normal sleep, it’s different. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s not the kind of feeling one has when they wake from normal sleep, like returning to the river of time after leaving for several hours. It’s...different. The kind of feeling one is left with after they’ve returned home from a far away journey. A feeling of fulfillment that comes from a trip through both time and space. I must say, these are the most enjoyable dreams I’ve had in a while...they’re a welcome break from this waking life of mine. November 14, 1914[The paper is crumpled, dirtier and more worn than the other pages, as if the author was writing in a cramped, hectic space] The dream happened again last night, only this time I was prepared. Over the last week I’ve been trying to work up my skills in something called “lucid dreaming,” something Isaac told me about when I told him about the dream. He told me I should try following the yellow horse, and last night I did. The dream began again like it always did, in the field. The grass...the sun...the wind, all things I am familiar with by now. Since my last journal entry I had the dream four more times, each time almost identical to the last. Never before have I had a dream occur so many times over again, with such resilience. As I lay in the field for the eighth time, a nagging feeling began to enter my mind...a question...”is this a dream?” Isaac told me about what to do when I ask that question, he told me to put my fingers in my nose and attempt to breathe, and if I could, it was a dream. Sure enough, I pinched my nose and tried to take a deep breath, and the sweet air continued to fill my lungs as it did before. I had done it, I had awakened within my dream. I was overtaken by a sudden wave of energy, a whole new level of sensation coming over me. The grass felt even softer, the sun was even warmer, even the colors seemed deeper. A beautiful land before...suddenly became a paradise. I started to walk dutifully in the direction I always did, a new sense of awakening filling my form. Sure enough, I came upon the yellow horse once again, and again she ran. However, this time I followed her. When she launched herself into the air, I followed her on the ground, trying to keep pace in a full-on sprint. “No, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you! I want to be your friend! I’m new here and I don’t know where to go” I yelled to her, quickly speaking every comforting and affirming thing that came to mind. I think it was working - slowly her pace began to slow, and eventually she landed in front of me in a full-stop. She turned to me, waiting for me to explain myself. I spoke to her between my heavy panting. “I’m...new here....I don’t know...where to...go. Is there anywhere...you can take me?” In hindsight I know it was foolish to assume she spoke English, but I figured if it was my own dream she would speak the language I spoke. “What’s your name?” I said to her. “Fl...Fl...Fluttershy,” she said to me, apprehension still palpable in her soft voice. “I’m...call me Sky,” I told her. For some reason I still wished to remain anonymous, even to my own mind. A feeling I can’t explain. A new world, even if it’s in my own mind, was a new opportunity to develop a new identity. “Where am I? I’m not from here, I’m from somewhere...very far away,” I told her, trying to put my origins in the simplest terms, just to assure that she would understand. “Here? You're in Equestria, mister.” I spoke to her again, “Well...Fluttershy...every time I’ve come here I’ve tried going toward that village over there, but I get lost and get...taken away...each time I try” pointing in the direction of the small village in the distance. “Can you take me there?” I tried to speak in vague terms, I didn't want this creature to realize it was a product of my imagination, I wanted to make this dream seem as realistic as possible. “Oh, that’s Ponyville, mister. If you’re really new here, then that is a good place for you to get acquainted. I live there, and one my best friends also lives there, and she might be able to help understand our land more.” "Oh, I hope Twilight can help you," she said with worry in her voice. I tried to act as natural as possible. “Well then, let’s go!” I said, slowly walking toward “Ponyville,” motioning my hand for her to follow. Who was this "Twilight" she mentioned? On our way toward the village, she gave me a thorough explanation of Equestria. Her race controlled this world - a world of ponies, just as I had suspected. There are three races of ponies who ruled the land - Earth ponies, hearty workers who are similar to horses on Earth, just smaller in stature, who grew food for all the inhabitants of this land; Pegasi ponies, winged horses who could fly and also had domain over the weather; and Unicorns, ponies that controlled magic, similar to the unicorns of mythology. This whole land is something out of mythology. I can’t believe my own mind created this. It's so...expansive! As we neared Ponyville, the view I saw became more fanciful than I could have possibly imagined. Miniature horses with the same bodies and faces like Fluttershy were everywhere. Pegasi ponies zipped through the air, the clouds around them responding to their every motion. Ponies of all kinds trotted through the streets...talking, laughing. Merchants sold their wares. It reminded me of home...of Helensburgh...only it’s filled with ponies. I couldn't help but smile, I've never had a dream like this before. The whole town was full of life, whether it was pony life, human life, it didn’t matter to me. It’s an empowering energy, it lifts up the soul. I wanted to stay and see more, but a sudden whistling noise began to drown out the sounds of Ponyville. A sudden blast knocked me awake. The Germans were shelling our position! Without thought I ran for cover in the nearest deep dugout, along with several other nearby troopers. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw vast swaths of earth blasted into the air, in some cases accompanied by men...and parts of men. Isaac and Felix were waiting for me there. Wilfred was several miles down the trench, I could only pray that his position was safe...that he was safe. Some of the men I first saw when I awoke didn't make it to the trench - some were trampled, others were clipped by shrapnel. Yet, like I mentioned before, death has become immaterial, simply another state of existence that any one of us could take at any moment. In the end today will be remembered as little more than any average day in the trenches. As of the time of this writing, we have yet to leave this dugout. It's been almost an hour since the shelling has stopped, but nobody wants to risk being caught in a second wave. It's an uneasy peace...a tense peace, but any peace is welcome. For a moment, we have escaped the fighting, but a dense smell of burned flesh is creeping it's way into the dugout, a sign of what scene is surely awaiting us outside. But for the moment, that doesn't matter. I think I'll go tell Isaac about my latest dream. November 16, 1914After the shelling incident two days ago, the trenches have been surprisingly quiet. The mess was cleaned as best we could, and life has returned to how it always has been. Much to my relief, Wilfred’s position was not in the line of fire, and his troupe should be making their way back to our section of the trench as I write this. More and more I find my thoughts, and this journal, being dominated by my accounts of my dreams. I’m beginning to think I should dedicate it to that purpose alone, the dreams themselves being a wonderful escape from trench life. I’d like to recount these tales to Elizabeth, to my friends and family, when I return home, and I don’t want to scar them with too many graphic stories of war. That is my cross to bear, not theirs. I returned to...”Equestria”...again last night. This time, though, the dream seems to have advanced in time. I didn’t find myself in the field, rather, I found myself on my feet, standing on the edge of that village, with “Fluttershy” by my side, her seemingly unaware of the abrupt ending several nights ago. It was a perfect continuity. These people...ponies...that are inhabiting my mind, seem completely unaware of what is occurring on the other side of my own existence. We walked into town, her people were...aware...of my presence, but they were not afraid. A healthy curiosity dominated them. They had never seen a creature like me before. None of them approached me, but they did watch from where they were standing. We walked in the direction of that large tree-house that I had seen so many times before. As we approached, a cooling breeze rustled the leaves, almost heralding our arrival. Fluttershy knocked on the door, her hoof making a solid knocking noise against the oak it was made of. After several seconds, the door opened, revealing the amethyst-colored unicorn who inhabited it on the other side. She had a mane of a deep purple and pink. Her eyes - as big and magnificent as those possessed by the others - shimmered with a gleaming purple. She too had a symbol on her thigh, what looked like a large purple star, surrounded by white stars. Fluttershy addressed her as “Twilight.” She asked if we could come in...Twilight, though wide-eyed with shock at the strange creature before her, was happy to oblige. We entered, though I had to duck to make it through the low door. The inside was just as fanciful as everything else I’ve seen in this land. The walls of the home were dug-in, creating bookshelves that were filled to the brim with books of every shape, size, and color. I glanced at a section as I passed it, and while many of the books were in a language alien to me, that I could only presume were from this land’s ancient times, a few were in English, and I was able to make out words like “spells” and “magic.” It was clear I was in the home of a unicorn, and a proficient one at that. Twilight had the same look in her eyes that most of the ponies outside had...though with the mark of a scientist. More than just curiosity, but true scientific inquiry. She was trying to understand me in a quantifiable way. “This is Sky. in the fields outside of town, he says he’s not from here...from Equestria, I mean,” Fluttershy spoke to her friend, breaking her concentration. “I can see that. I’ve never seen anything like...it?...before.” “He” I spoke, Twilight a bit shocked that I spoke English. After several more moments of quiet observation, Twilight spoke again. “So you say everypony reacted well when you brought him into town? No incidents?” To which Fluttershy nodded, “everyone just seemed very curious. I think he’ll be safe for now.” (“Everypony?” They even have their own dialect!) “We’ve encountered unfamiliar creatures before, we can handle this. The whole Zecora incident taught us a lot. For now, let’s just try and get him acquainted with Ponyville. Go show him around town a bit, show him how we live. Eventually I’ll organize the Elements of Harmony together and we’ll take him to Princess Celestia.” (They’re going to take me to their Princess?) Fluttershy motioned for me to follow her out the door. We walked outside, in the direction of what looked like a gingerbread house, crossed with a quant country cottage. The tan walls were topped by a dark brown roof, outlined in white icing and peppered with large hard candies of every color. On one edge of the roof was a weathervane, an image of a pony clutching a candy cane. In the center of the roof, a cupcake-shaped watchtower jutted high into the air. “That’s Sugarcube Corner, it’s a bakery run by the Cakes...they’re bakers, and Pinkie Pie. She’s one of my friends, one of the Elements of Harmony that Twilight mentioned, I’ll go introduce you to her, first. Oh, and sorry about Twilight Sparkle, that's her full name by the way, she can be kind of...analytical...in situations like that. She's very nice when you get to know her.” "Quite alright," I replied, as we neared the building. We reached the door and Fluttershy gave it a push, a bell ringing as we walked through. Almost immediately another pony, a pink pony with a pink, puffy mane and tale galloped up to us. She had three balloons - two yellow, one blue - on her thigh. Sure enough, this was Pinkie Pie, as she soon addressed herself. “Hey, Fluttershy!...who’s this?!,” she said, in the most cheerful voice I had heard in a long time. She seemed almost unaware that I was a different species than her. It didn’t seem to matter. “This is Sky. He’s not from Equestria...he’s new around here, and Twilight told me to show him around Ponyville.” “Well, you picked a great place to start! Welcome to Sugarcube Corner, the best bakery in town! Here! Have a cupcake, on me! Consider it a welcoming gift!” The pony trotted behind the counter momentarily before returning with a blue-icing cupcake, still warm from the oven. Thanking her, I took a bite of the sugary gift, Pinkie staring back with a smile. The first bite sent a wave of energy through my taste buds. It was the most incredible thing I had tasted in a long time...maybe my whole life...and it wasn’t even real. I awoke again, that same feeling of satisfaction that marked every journey to Equestria lingering for a moment before reality fully set in again. The trenches are still quiet.
October 22, 1914At the advice of my beloved Elizabeth, I have begun to keep a journal of my thoughts and experiences as a soldier in the Royal Scots Fusiliers. Many of my squad-mates also seem to have taken to journal writing, but they seem to be doing it out of some inflated idea of grandeur, as if the pages they write will soon be in the pages of schoolbooks. I wish I could have such optimism, I’m only writing as a way to try to keep my sanity. I feel that if I can get my thoughts out of my head and onto the paper, they won’t be stuck in my mind, slowly ravaging me from the inside-out. In my first month in the trenches I have made several acquaintances. Wilfred, also a man of 20, whose family has a cereal farm in the Scottish country side. After the war he hopes to go back to his family and continue the farm for the next generation. Isaac, 19, from Edinburgh, who wants to attend the University of Edinburgh’s School of Engineering when he returns to civilian life, and Felix, 17, from Elgin, Moray, who wishes to join the Catholic Priesthood after the war. Life in the trenches can best be described as...dynamic - long hours of quietness interjected with moments of chaotic fighting on some days, endless gunfire and shelling the next. One quickly learns to live without cycle and uniformity out here. Being ready for anything at a moments notice is a mindset that one will eventually fall into should they spend enough time out here. I know I have. You must if you want to keep your sanity. Death is viewed in a very paradoxical way, out here. We are surrounded by it, yet we choose to marginalize it, for the sake of our daily functionality. Every now and again a man who is standing one moment will be on the ground, dead, the next, having stood too high at the wrong moment and being struck down by a sniper on the other side of No Man's Land. A clean, quick way to go...they are the lucky ones. Most don’t die so well. A less accurate bullet...being in the wrong place at the wrong time when a shell falls...the dreaded chlorine gas, I’ve seen many men die these ways. It’s slow...painful...messy, and those who are rescued and given medical treatment only have a marginally better chance at survival, their pain often just extended. If anything, medicine has become an act of cruelty, rather than an act of kindness. Yet once they died, they met the same fate as those who died quickly - a shallow grave. Out of sight and out of mind...and life for the living continues. Such is life in war time.
November 3, 1914Over the last three nights I’ve begun to have the most peculiar dreams...recurring dreams. They are so out of the ordinary that I feel I must write about them. I suppose it is a blessing, it's gotten me back into this journal, this being only my second entry. They go as follows: They each seem to start the same way. I wake up in a field of tall grass, in the middle of a plain that continues for miles in all directions. The sky is a vivd blue, a comforting sun beating down on my skin. At the same time a gentle breeze works it’s way through my hair. The air smells fresh...sweet, an atmosphere that has never been tainted by the odor of gun powder and death that marks the air in these trenches. Beyond these plains, tall mountains tower over the landscape, mighty slabs of rock capped with snow. I look out onto what I can only assume is the west and I see, of all things, what looks like a kingdom carved into the mountainside! A beautiful, gleaming, regal castle of high golden and ivory spires, looking out over this pristine land. Water flows from the mountainside and through the kingdom, snaking it’s way to the overhanging side, from which it falls to the surface in a waterfall that seems to drop for miles. Even from my position miles away, I could feel the power that it exudes. It humbled me where I lay. Opposite this marvel was a kingdom even more incredible, being built completely from what I can tell, on a layer of thick, puffy clouds. It’s incredible defiance of the laws of nature are almost nearly paralleled by it’s incredible grandeur. It has an almost Roman architecture to it, even being complete with a colosseum! Like the mountain kingdom it radiates might. Clouds almost seem like they are part of the kingdom's very construction, forming the whole of many structures entirely! Like the mountain kingdom, waterfalls peppered the kingdom's landscape. Not only that though, but rainbows were falling from this place, as well! They weren't like waking Rainbows, though. They had mass, it looked like they could be physically held. Beneath both of these marvels lie a small, quaint village. The houses appear to be made of a variety of materials, ranging from wood to thatch, there even appears to be a structure made directly out of a tree! The occasional hot air balloon would either rise or fall into this village, most finding their ways to either of previously mentioned kingdoms. This place didn't exude might as much as it exuded life. From a distance I could tell it was a happy place. I’m overtaken by the sudden urge to walk toward this village. I rise from my spot on the ground and start my journey. I am without shoes, but even if I had them, I would probably opt to take them off anyway, the grasses being as soft as a fine rug. After several minutes of walking I am approached by a most fascinating creature...what looks like a miniature horse! A mare from what I could presume. But she was not like any horse I’ve seen before. She was small, standing maybe four feet tall at most, her body was short and very curvy, a pair of wings attached at her shoulders (horses can fly in this world?). She had a symbol on her thigh, it looked like three pink butterflies. She had a long, curved neck, with a roundish head set upon it. She had a very petite muzzle, much smaller than any horse of the waking world. Her coloring was even stranger than her shape. She had short, yellow fur, and long, waving pink hair, the kind of hair I can only presume an angel would have. And her eyes, oh her eyes! I’ve never seen something so beautiful. They’re big, filled with a cornucopia of greenish blue. They were bigger than any eyes I have ever seen on a creature her size before. The natural light shined off of them, given them a constant twinkle. They are so expressive! A most peculiar looking creature...yet so beautiful. She has a sense of fearful curiosity in her eyes, obviously just as perplexed about my appearance as I was to hers! Even though we had only just met, and I had no idea whether she could understand me or not, I have the sudden urge to speak to her, as if I know she’ll understand. But as soon as I spoke one word, her fear must have conquered her curiosity and she darted off, trotting for several feet before opening her wings and flying off into the distance. Soon after I awake, the usual sights, sounds, and smells of the trenches overtaking the beauty that moments before dominated my mind. What’s more, when I wake from these dreams, I’m left with a most unusual feeling. It’s not the feeling of waking from normal sleep, it’s different. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s not the kind of feeling one has when they wake from normal sleep, like returning to the river of time after leaving for several hours. It’s...different. The kind of feeling one is left with after they’ve returned home from a far away journey. A feeling of fulfillment that comes from a trip through both time and space. I must say, these are the most enjoyable dreams I’ve had in a while...they’re a welcome break from this waking life of mine.
November 14, 1914[The paper is crumpled, dirtier and more worn than the other pages, as if the author was writing in a cramped, hectic space] The dream happened again last night, only this time I was prepared. Over the last week I’ve been trying to work up my skills in something called “lucid dreaming,” something Isaac told me about when I told him about the dream. He told me I should try following the yellow horse, and last night I did. The dream began again like it always did, in the field. The grass...the sun...the wind, all things I am familiar with by now. Since my last journal entry I had the dream four more times, each time almost identical to the last. Never before have I had a dream occur so many times over again, with such resilience. As I lay in the field for the eighth time, a nagging feeling began to enter my mind...a question...”is this a dream?” Isaac told me about what to do when I ask that question, he told me to put my fingers in my nose and attempt to breathe, and if I could, it was a dream. Sure enough, I pinched my nose and tried to take a deep breath, and the sweet air continued to fill my lungs as it did before. I had done it, I had awakened within my dream. I was overtaken by a sudden wave of energy, a whole new level of sensation coming over me. The grass felt even softer, the sun was even warmer, even the colors seemed deeper. A beautiful land before...suddenly became a paradise. I started to walk dutifully in the direction I always did, a new sense of awakening filling my form. Sure enough, I came upon the yellow horse once again, and again she ran. However, this time I followed her. When she launched herself into the air, I followed her on the ground, trying to keep pace in a full-on sprint. “No, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you! I want to be your friend! I’m new here and I don’t know where to go” I yelled to her, quickly speaking every comforting and affirming thing that came to mind. I think it was working - slowly her pace began to slow, and eventually she landed in front of me in a full-stop. She turned to me, waiting for me to explain myself. I spoke to her between my heavy panting. “I’m...new here....I don’t know...where to...go. Is there anywhere...you can take me?” In hindsight I know it was foolish to assume she spoke English, but I figured if it was my own dream she would speak the language I spoke. “What’s your name?” I said to her. “Fl...Fl...Fluttershy,” she said to me, apprehension still palpable in her soft voice. “I’m...call me Sky,” I told her. For some reason I still wished to remain anonymous, even to my own mind. A feeling I can’t explain. A new world, even if it’s in my own mind, was a new opportunity to develop a new identity. “Where am I? I’m not from here, I’m from somewhere...very far away,” I told her, trying to put my origins in the simplest terms, just to assure that she would understand. “Here? You're in Equestria, mister.” I spoke to her again, “Well...Fluttershy...every time I’ve come here I’ve tried going toward that village over there, but I get lost and get...taken away...each time I try” pointing in the direction of the small village in the distance. “Can you take me there?” I tried to speak in vague terms, I didn't want this creature to realize it was a product of my imagination, I wanted to make this dream seem as realistic as possible. “Oh, that’s Ponyville, mister. If you’re really new here, then that is a good place for you to get acquainted. I live there, and one my best friends also lives there, and she might be able to help understand our land more.” "Oh, I hope Twilight can help you," she said with worry in her voice. I tried to act as natural as possible. “Well then, let’s go!” I said, slowly walking toward “Ponyville,” motioning my hand for her to follow. Who was this "Twilight" she mentioned? On our way toward the village, she gave me a thorough explanation of Equestria. Her race controlled this world - a world of ponies, just as I had suspected. There are three races of ponies who ruled the land - Earth ponies, hearty workers who are similar to horses on Earth, just smaller in stature, who grew food for all the inhabitants of this land; Pegasi ponies, winged horses who could fly and also had domain over the weather; and Unicorns, ponies that controlled magic, similar to the unicorns of mythology. This whole land is something out of mythology. I can’t believe my own mind created this. It's so...expansive! As we neared Ponyville, the view I saw became more fanciful than I could have possibly imagined. Miniature horses with the same bodies and faces like Fluttershy were everywhere. Pegasi ponies zipped through the air, the clouds around them responding to their every motion. Ponies of all kinds trotted through the streets...talking, laughing. Merchants sold their wares. It reminded me of home...of Helensburgh...only it’s filled with ponies. I couldn't help but smile, I've never had a dream like this before. The whole town was full of life, whether it was pony life, human life, it didn’t matter to me. It’s an empowering energy, it lifts up the soul. I wanted to stay and see more, but a sudden whistling noise began to drown out the sounds of Ponyville. A sudden blast knocked me awake. The Germans were shelling our position! Without thought I ran for cover in the nearest deep dugout, along with several other nearby troopers. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw vast swaths of earth blasted into the air, in some cases accompanied by men...and parts of men. Isaac and Felix were waiting for me there. Wilfred was several miles down the trench, I could only pray that his position was safe...that he was safe. Some of the men I first saw when I awoke didn't make it to the trench - some were trampled, others were clipped by shrapnel. Yet, like I mentioned before, death has become immaterial, simply another state of existence that any one of us could take at any moment. In the end today will be remembered as little more than any average day in the trenches. As of the time of this writing, we have yet to leave this dugout. It's been almost an hour since the shelling has stopped, but nobody wants to risk being caught in a second wave. It's an uneasy peace...a tense peace, but any peace is welcome. For a moment, we have escaped the fighting, but a dense smell of burned flesh is creeping it's way into the dugout, a sign of what scene is surely awaiting us outside. But for the moment, that doesn't matter. I think I'll go tell Isaac about my latest dream.
November 16, 1914After the shelling incident two days ago, the trenches have been surprisingly quiet. The mess was cleaned as best we could, and life has returned to how it always has been. Much to my relief, Wilfred’s position was not in the line of fire, and his troupe should be making their way back to our section of the trench as I write this. More and more I find my thoughts, and this journal, being dominated by my accounts of my dreams. I’m beginning to think I should dedicate it to that purpose alone, the dreams themselves being a wonderful escape from trench life. I’d like to recount these tales to Elizabeth, to my friends and family, when I return home, and I don’t want to scar them with too many graphic stories of war. That is my cross to bear, not theirs. I returned to...”Equestria”...again last night. This time, though, the dream seems to have advanced in time. I didn’t find myself in the field, rather, I found myself on my feet, standing on the edge of that village, with “Fluttershy” by my side, her seemingly unaware of the abrupt ending several nights ago. It was a perfect continuity. These people...ponies...that are inhabiting my mind, seem completely unaware of what is occurring on the other side of my own existence. We walked into town, her people were...aware...of my presence, but they were not afraid. A healthy curiosity dominated them. They had never seen a creature like me before. None of them approached me, but they did watch from where they were standing. We walked in the direction of that large tree-house that I had seen so many times before. As we approached, a cooling breeze rustled the leaves, almost heralding our arrival. Fluttershy knocked on the door, her hoof making a solid knocking noise against the oak it was made of. After several seconds, the door opened, revealing the amethyst-colored unicorn who inhabited it on the other side. She had a mane of a deep purple and pink. Her eyes - as big and magnificent as those possessed by the others - shimmered with a gleaming purple. She too had a symbol on her thigh, what looked like a large purple star, surrounded by white stars. Fluttershy addressed her as “Twilight.” She asked if we could come in...Twilight, though wide-eyed with shock at the strange creature before her, was happy to oblige. We entered, though I had to duck to make it through the low door. The inside was just as fanciful as everything else I’ve seen in this land. The walls of the home were dug-in, creating bookshelves that were filled to the brim with books of every shape, size, and color. I glanced at a section as I passed it, and while many of the books were in a language alien to me, that I could only presume were from this land’s ancient times, a few were in English, and I was able to make out words like “spells” and “magic.” It was clear I was in the home of a unicorn, and a proficient one at that. Twilight had the same look in her eyes that most of the ponies outside had...though with the mark of a scientist. More than just curiosity, but true scientific inquiry. She was trying to understand me in a quantifiable way. “This is Sky. in the fields outside of town, he says he’s not from here...from Equestria, I mean,” Fluttershy spoke to her friend, breaking her concentration. “I can see that. I’ve never seen anything like...it?...before.” “He” I spoke, Twilight a bit shocked that I spoke English. After several more moments of quiet observation, Twilight spoke again. “So you say everypony reacted well when you brought him into town? No incidents?” To which Fluttershy nodded, “everyone just seemed very curious. I think he’ll be safe for now.” (“Everypony?” They even have their own dialect!) “We’ve encountered unfamiliar creatures before, we can handle this. The whole Zecora incident taught us a lot. For now, let’s just try and get him acquainted with Ponyville. Go show him around town a bit, show him how we live. Eventually I’ll organize the Elements of Harmony together and we’ll take him to Princess Celestia.” (They’re going to take me to their Princess?) Fluttershy motioned for me to follow her out the door. We walked outside, in the direction of what looked like a gingerbread house, crossed with a quant country cottage. The tan walls were topped by a dark brown roof, outlined in white icing and peppered with large hard candies of every color. On one edge of the roof was a weathervane, an image of a pony clutching a candy cane. In the center of the roof, a cupcake-shaped watchtower jutted high into the air. “That’s Sugarcube Corner, it’s a bakery run by the Cakes...they’re bakers, and Pinkie Pie. She’s one of my friends, one of the Elements of Harmony that Twilight mentioned, I’ll go introduce you to her, first. Oh, and sorry about Twilight Sparkle, that's her full name by the way, she can be kind of...analytical...in situations like that. She's very nice when you get to know her.” "Quite alright," I replied, as we neared the building. We reached the door and Fluttershy gave it a push, a bell ringing as we walked through. Almost immediately another pony, a pink pony with a pink, puffy mane and tale galloped up to us. She had three balloons - two yellow, one blue - on her thigh. Sure enough, this was Pinkie Pie, as she soon addressed herself. “Hey, Fluttershy!...who’s this?!,” she said, in the most cheerful voice I had heard in a long time. She seemed almost unaware that I was a different species than her. It didn’t seem to matter. “This is Sky. He’s not from Equestria...he’s new around here, and Twilight told me to show him around Ponyville.” “Well, you picked a great place to start! Welcome to Sugarcube Corner, the best bakery in town! Here! Have a cupcake, on me! Consider it a welcoming gift!” The pony trotted behind the counter momentarily before returning with a blue-icing cupcake, still warm from the oven. Thanking her, I took a bite of the sugary gift, Pinkie staring back with a smile. The first bite sent a wave of energy through my taste buds. It was the most incredible thing I had tasted in a long time...maybe my whole life...and it wasn’t even real. I awoke again, that same feeling of satisfaction that marked every journey to Equestria lingering for a moment before reality fully set in again. The trenches are still quiet.
