The Equestrian Choice

It was the 25th of January, 2014.

Rain drizzled down from the unbreakable gloom of the sky, striking the unforgiving concrete gravel with an aggressive “splosh” as it pooled into oil soaked puddles, rainbow refractions glinting off its rippling surface. A rattling noise vibrated the pavement, as a car rocketed around the corner, fracturing the puddle into a million drops and vapours, before gravity claimed them once again.

The vehicle in question, was owned by one Marcus Grey. Who, true to his name, was piloting a blocky, dull, metal brushed chunk. He was 18 years of age, had a full head of short chestnut hair, was not “too tall” or “too short” and had a “normal build” (Although he had “put on a few pounds” over the Christmas). Everything about him screamed “average”. He had a “normal” desk job, a “nice family” and a “cosy home”.

The truth was, that his life screamed “boring”.

With his day falling into a steady, scraping rhythm that dulled his senses every day, Marcus found solitude in something that many today may have found... odd. Strangely, this one thing would make Marcus “interesting” to his colleagues in a matter of moments. Albeit not in the way that he intended, nor wanted.

So he silently took refuge in the show that lightened his aliments every week, always having something to look forward to, even in the breaks between seasons. It also gave him hope that someone else out there might just feel the same.

Marcus sighed, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles turning white as he squinted through the grease stained windshield, catching glimpses of the road markings ahead as he twisted through corner after corner. Rushing past simple wheat fields, he sent air that buffeted the plants into a whipping frenzy. He travelled from the jagged roads of the countryside to the outskirts of a decaying city, grey bleached walls oozing rain like an open wound. Distorted window frames shimmered as he rocketed past, condensation already settling in the deep cold.

Slowing to a stop, Marcus stabbed his fingers in a rhythmical pattern on top of the steering wheel, jammed between two equally dreary cars, engines spluttering in a chaotic symphony. A green light flickered on and the heaving mass of metal trudged through the intersection. Weaving between them, Marcus expertly squeezed himself into the correct lane, before shifting into gear and  careening through the exit.

As quickly as the buildings sprouted, they wavered and died to spout forth a twisting labyrinth of roads and motorways, forming a network of passageways to other sprawling masses of towers. Signs, coated with grime and smog, steered the masses to a lattice of names and numbers, slowly filtering them into one of the many destinations that mankind had claimed. Marcus cringed as his gears grinded into position, groaning in protest, an ominous clicking started in the bowels of the machine.

Much attuned to ignoring the failings of technology, Marcus paid it no mind, climbing to a modest 60 miles per hour before pulling into the fast lane. With the suspension being broken for some time, he felt every jolt and stone that had somehow found its way onto the road, aggravating the clicking tenfold. Hoping to end the physical torture, he twisted the wheel sharply to the left.

His life was about to change.

The clicking stopped, to be replaced with a single drawn out wrenching of metal, before a final resounding snap that echoed in the confines of the metal box. His eyes widened as his car jack-knifed across the lanes, drifting in perfect equilibrium for the briefest of moments, before being slammed back in his seat, smashed through the air by 1.5 tonnes of pure velocity, glass and metal.

His windows caved in, showering him in minute fragments of windshield, his wipers flailing madly as his seatbelt struggled to constrain him. Marcus screamed as he felt his arm crushed under the dashboard, dents forming in his doors and roof. Gravity was quick to react, bringing the projectile into a gentle arc, before slamming into the concrete.

Sparks momentarily lit up the street signs, metal screeching against the unforgivable grip of momentum. The car comically span a full circle before creating a depression into the safety bar that outlined the road, rocking on its unstable rooftop.

Marcus flailed in the constricted space, desperately pulling at his seatbelt. He wrenched his still bleeding hand out from the hunk of plastic that used to be a steering wheel.

Gasping for breath, he collapsed onto the... floor? Roof? It didn’t matter anymore, he just needed to be out. Grasping the windows frame, he crawled over the sharp barbs of twisted metal and shattered plastic.

Small scrapes and cuts adorned his body, cradling his crushed hand, he eased out of the warped vehicle,  in time to see a screaming truck approaching at impossible speeds,.

He  made no attempt to move, wedged in his “average car”, Markus stared at the monstrosity that ploughed towards him. His life seemed to slow as the impossibility of escape grew.  The grille, protruding from the end of the truck,  slowly approached.

Funny, how someone’s life can be so dull, but end so violently.

The world exploded into white.

___

AN: Well, first chapter of first fic! Did I do the suspense well? ^^

Oh yeah. And I will include ponies in the next chap... I suppose :P

(I wrote this in about an hour... so I may need some proofreaders... and an image ^^.)