Similar to most ponies of my time, I grew up in a small rancher-style home. It sat in the country, a valley between 3 mountains. The weather was usually very humid and warm. Plant life was scarce aside from what the local farmers had planted. My mother worked from sunrise to sunset, doing many tasks that helped with keeping our town in order. Everypony stayed healthy aside from the occasional cold, which was usually brought in by an outsider from one of the larger cities.
One of my dreams as a filly was to go out and explore the big cities alone. I told my mother, but she simply whacked my head with her powerful forehoof and yelled at me. My dreams were not crushed, however. I told myself that the day I become a mare - an adult, I would fulfill my dream. I was always told that believing in yourself, and focusing on your goals could make your dreams come true. Unfortunately, I did not have such luck.
I had quite a bit of trouble making friends. The local couples were very old, and already had children many years before settling in the small village. When I did meet another colt or filly, they were tourists, who would leave after a few days and would never be seen again. I felt alone. Being alone also gave me much time to think, and I realized that I really didn’t have much of a life ahead of me simply chasing the dream of exploring a city - one that the city folk already knew much too well.
When I turned fifteen, my mother told me that in only one year I would become a mare. I would have rights; I would be able to do anything I wanted. That year felt like an entire lifetime as it slowly passed. The anticipation was eating me alive until the day came, my sixteenth birthday. I felt so excited that I could finally pursue my one and only dream, despite the obstacles. The day after, I packed my things and left with little word. I never thought to look back, and in reality, I never thought to look forward either.
As I trekked through the rough terrain to escape the valley and village I once called home, I realized that I had made a mistake. A mistake that could not be fixed. If I returned, I would be a filly again - treated as though I was invisible. I would go back to a life of being pushed around, being alone. However, I left without any advice, any survival knowledge, I left with nothing but my book smarts and an old, faded map. I recall telling myself many times that I’d never make it, that I’d never see the light of the city on my own. But while I was still strong and motivated, I had only one goal: Manehattan.
Manehattan was big news for their technological advancements in comparison to our smaller towns. They were the first to use electricity, insulation, and temperature regulators by combining the two. I wanted to use what I knew to adapt their technologies and become famous. I wanted to make someone proud for once, I wanted the attention. I wanted to be known.
On the first night alone, I was already half way to Manehattan. I started to feel fatigue from all of the walking and lack of food. I decided to stop for a rest under a lonely tree that looked to have many large crates underneath. I didn’t care what was in them; because whatever it was, it would only help me either by providing essentials or providing extra shelter. As I approached, I realized that someone else already had the same idea. There were two of the largest crates supporting some old, broken panels, creating a small enclosed fortress. I trotted around the corner, excited to finally have found a place to sleep. I crawled into the dark shadow of the tree and crates, which was contrasting with the bright moon. There was an unpleasant odor, but I decided to ignore it. I felt a soft, warm object under my hooves as I crawled into the small space. I layed my head down to rest.
“What th’ hell are ya’ doin’?”, came an unfamiliar voice from below me. I jumped in fear, knocking over a crate and breaking the other one in the process. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. I backed myself away from the crates and back into the moonlight. In the shadow of the tree, I could see a stallion no older than myself scrambling to stand up. I turned and trotted away as fast as I could.
It was no use. The stallion was on my tail in an instant. I figured that life in the wilderness had probably shaped him to be a relatively tough stallion, and I decided that I was correct when he tackled me. He pinned me to the ground and grabbed my neck with his hoof, flipping me around to face him.
“I’m jus’ gonna ask yah’ once more. Th’ hell are ya’ do--”. He began to say, then stopped. He turned to look away from me, and spat. I noticed in a beam of moonlight that he was a grey stallion with a yellow mane.
“Hell, you’s just a mare, huh? What’re you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”
“I... I, I just... You... I... uhh-” I began to slur out, before I got a hoof in the mouth.
“Calm down, girlie. Oh, shoot, I’m still on ya’.”. He stepped off of me. I stood, but my legs trembled, practically asking me to fall back down.
“Well. You’s okay?” he continued.
“Um, yes, I am fine. I- I’m sorry about that, I didn’t know you were in there, and it’s late, and I was tired...” I replied quickly.
The stallion looked at me as if I was insane. Then he laughed and spat to the side again.
“Ha. Don’ worry, just knock next time, will ya’? Le’me guess: You’re from that village back east, huh?”.
“Yeah, how’d you guess?”
“You’s got good speech. You’s smart, they’s smart.”
“Oh, well, thank you!”. I could feel myself blushing.
“Hey, come on back over here. I’ll rebuild th’ shack, ‘nd I’ll grab you something to eat and drink for tonight. You’s best be leavin’ tomorrow, though, ya’ heard?”
“Sounds alright to me. Let’s go.”
I trotted ahead of him, and I could hear him giggle behind me. He seemed very nice, despite his grungy appearance and lack of grammatical knowledge. He immediately began lifting the thick wood with his mouth and hooves. He looked to be very strong. I tried lifting one - I could not. I decided to just sit and wait, enjoying the night in the empty wilderness.
After what seemed like hours, the stallion came over to me and motioned that I could return to the crate-shack. It looked a bit larger now, with enough room for the both of us. There was also an old torn blanket on the ground on one half of the small space.
“That blanket’s fer’ you. Get comfortable and I’ll grab you some fresh water and fruit.”
The stallion walked away as I ducked my head and sat on the blanket. He returned a few minutes later with a large wooden bowl full of a variety of fruits: strawberries, apples, and many other various berries. He set it in front of me and walked off. I decided to wait until he returned to eat anything, in spite of my constantly growling stomach. He returned with a smaller bowl of crystal clear water and set it beside the bowl of fruit.
“This’ all for you, eat what ya’ want, and I’ll finish it off for ya’ before I get back to sleep.”
With no word, I dove my snout into the bowl of fruit and began chewing away everything I could. After I finished a sizable buffet of the juicy fruits, I slurped up the water from the bowl quickly.
“You’s gots a big tummy, I see?”. He giggled, but I hid behind my mane. “Aw, don’t be so shy. Watch this.”
The stallion lifted the bowl and tilted it back, allowing its contents to slide into his mouth. He quickly chewed and swallowed, licked the excess from the bowl, and tossed it aside.
“See?”
He dropped to the ground and fell asleep. I did the same.
As I slept, I recall dreaming a very abnormally vivid dream. I felt as though I was being abused in every aspect imaginable. I was back at home in my mind, but I felt an unfamiliar pain start in my lower back that seemed very real. I remember seeing my mother. Despite how excited I seemed to be to see her, she was angered at me. She told me that she never wanted to see me again. The thought constantly replayed through my head.
I woke the next morning to the bright sunlight shining in my face. I blinked and rubbed my eyes with my hooves, allowing myself to wake up. I looked around for the stallion. But nothing was there except for the tree. The crates, the food, the bowls, and the stallion: all gone. I tried to stand, but something in my lower back was keeping me down. I screamed in pain, but it was useless. No one was around. Nothing. I layed back down and looked at the blanket below me. There was no way I’d be moving anytime soon.
I waited all throughout the day, trying many times to stand. The pain got worse as the day progressed. Each time, I screamed in agony. It was not as if my back was broken, but rather, strained or over pressured. Many times, I had called for help due to paranoia. I didn’t want to die alone - and I was not going to let myself die alone. I was hungry. I was alone. I felt like I was at home. That phrase - “Home Sweet Home”. What a load of crap.
