A Non-Journey to Equestria

by tencentpartycannon

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Comedy, Human
Length: 1665

A simple glass of poisoned water was all it took for Emile to end his life. But as one thing ends, it always seems that another thing begins.

It's sad how the mental state of someone can lead them to suicide. It's sad that Emile felt this was his way out of the despair he felt. But what was weird, though, was what happened to him after the action, after the poison was drunk and the senses were lost.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-14 06:49:27 UTC

Part 1: A Failed Attempt

A Non-Journey to Equestria Part 1: A Failed Attempt

So here I am. Emile thought. It came to this.

As Emile pondered what he was about to do, he looked around his room, reflecting on everything he was about to leave. The assorted posters of bands like R.E.M, Nirvana, The Pixies, and the Sonics did nothing but remind him of how eccentric he was; how he would never be truly accepted in the groups he wanted to be a part of. Every time he tried to approach someone, even if it was for as simple a reason as to talk to them, they simply laughed in his face.

Emile grabbed his Gameboy, some batteries, and a couple of cartridges, and stuck them in his pocket. Regardless of where exactly the powers that be dictated he go, he would always want to numb his mind with visual stimulation in the form of Zelda or Pokémon. He also grabbed his little figurine of Twilight Sparkle and stuck it in the pocket of his hoodie; My Little Pony was the one of the only things that brought him legitimate happiness and entertainment in the little bumfuck town he lived in, and he didn’t want to lose it.

Emile looked outside and swore he saw his mom’s Civic pull up in the driveway, but he knew how impossible this was. Emile had known his mom’s “profession” since a young age, and never expected her home until three in the morning, smelling of alcohol, grimy men, and cigarettes. It didn’t matter though; his mom was a wonderful woman, no matter how she managed to get the money to pay for his expenses.

Well… here we go. Emile laid his carefully written and meticulously detailed note on the ground, explaining why he did what he did. He always expected his going away would be more dramatic, almost like one of those Shakespeare plays he read in English class; maybe he actually expected to have a girl at this point in his life to beg him to stay, to reconsider his priorities. But the notion of a woman actually talking to him was so foreign to him, it made him laugh out loud.

He walked over to his CD player and played the Gorillaz’ “Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach”; If he was going to do this, he might as well go out in a blaze of glory. As he sat down by his bed, the rat poison and tap water lying beside him by his lamp. Snoop Dogg’s spoken word part sent a chilling ambience through the room.

Kids, gather around

Yeah, I need your focus

I know it seems like the world is so hopeless

It's like wonderland

He finally got the two in his hands, which were shaking from fear and anxiousness. He slowly but surely poured the entire canister of rat poison into the can, laughing to himself at how much he was redefining the word “overkill.”

Welcome to the world of the Plastic Beach, yeah uh

Should I? Emile thought, as he lifted the glass of water to his mouth, taking his sweet time to let the liquid touch his tounge.

Welcome to the world of the Plastic Beach

He finally let the water pour into his mouth, and was surprised at how little he could taste the rat poison through the metallic taste of the water.

Welcome to the world of the Plastic Beach, yeah uh

He felt an exhilarating dizziness spread over his body, lying down on his bed in the vain attempt to stop the feeling. He felt his stomach reject the ghastly liquid and try to push it back up. But he kept it down.

Welcome to the world of the Plastic Beach

All of a sudden, Emile felt the insane urge to sleep, to close his eyes forever, and as his senses faded, he let himself smile, an action he hadn’t felt the urge to do in a long time. Stupor was taking over.

Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach.

Emile opened his eyes again, seeing an almost perfectly blue sky. He felt around for his body, considering he wasn’t even sure if he would have it in the afterlife, but was surprised to find that he not only had his body, but he also had his clothes, his Twilight figurine, and the bulge in his pocket…

“MY GAMEBOY!” Emile yelled, not considering the possibility that he was not alone in… well, wherever he was. He felt around and pulled it out, switching it on and enjoying the familiar opening sequence of Link’s Awakening.

“Wait…” Emile said, switching off his Gameboy and looking around. It looked no different than the Earth he tried so desperately to leave; the same blue sky, the same crisp air, everything that was on Earth was present here.

Emile’s first instinct was to believe that his suicide didn’t work, that maybe it was all a dream, and he woke up with a frightening case of amnesia. But that was impossible;the happiness he felt when he discovered the Gameboy in his pocket disproved this.

Emile, not knowing what to do, simply stood up and observed the scenery; the grass was green and freshly cut, there seemed to be some kind of orchard in the distance, and a sweet aroma wafted through every square inch of air he walked through.

Emile smiled; if he was going to be stuck in one place for all eternity, he would choose a place like this; no social interaction, no one to push him away, simply himself and his thoughts. He laid down, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep once more.

“… No.” Emile said to himself, picking himself up yet again and wiping the dirt from his jeans. “I have to find out where I am.”

Emile’s first instinct was to head to the orchard, the only place that could have any coherent explanation to where he was. More importantly, however, it was where there would be a definite source of food in case the afterlife still kept his need for nourishment intact, so he started walking.

As he approached the orchard, he realized why the air was so sweet; they were apple trees! He rejoiced in his good luck, and ran towards them, pulling as many apples as he could down from the trees and taking a bite from each of them.

As he walked through the orchard, he noticed that many of these objects on the landscape had a sense of familiarity to them… he could have sworn he had seen that barn somewhere… and he would’ve bet money that he had seen that brown dog…

Emile went completely silent, and remained completely still as he noticed that he was not alone; a brown canine sat right in front of him on the path he was taking. Luckily for Emile, the dog was not growling, or showing any intentions to intimidate Emile… it was just sitting in the middle of the dirt road, wagging its tail and panting playfully.

“Winona, where are you, girl?”

Emile jumped at the sound of the English language, and dove behind the nearest tree he could find. He thought that he could look at the dog from behind the tree and remain unseen by whomever was coming, but he didn’t dare take the chance.

“Winona, Applejack’s been looking for you!” Emile heard from the dirt path. It sounded like the voice Emile's younger cousin from Mississippi had that annoyed him to no end.  “We’ve been worried sick.”

Emile tried to process what he was hearing, but the primal instinct of staying alive clouded any attempt and deduction and logical thinking he took. He could have sworn the voice sounded familiar, and the name “Winona” was ringing so many bells in Emile’s head it was a wonder whoever was with the dog couldn’t hear them.

Emile could hear the voice get further and further away until it was virtually nonexistent. Emile moved from behind the tree, and heaved a large sigh of relief. It seemed like he remained undetected.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!”” he heard from behind him. It was too late to hide, so he just ran as fast and as far as he could. To Emile’s credit, he ran a long way before he realized that there was no one following him. He looked back to see Applejack, resuming her duties of bucking apples from trees and chasing harmful animals from the orchard.

“Oh, hey, it’s Apple…” Emile managed to say before the weight of her existence silenced him.

No. No, no, no, NO! Emile thought. This is the type of things people write about in crappy “human-in-Equestria” fanfiction! This can’t be happening to me!

It all made sense now. The voice, Winona, the apple orchard, the barn… this can’t be happening to me, this can’t be happening to me, this is impossible, this is simply not possibl-

“HEY!”

Emile had been too caught up in his epiphany to realize that the familiar orange earth pony now had her sights set on HIM. Emile tried to run from the voice, but he felt the voice and hoofsteps get louder behind him as he accepted the inevitability of his fate. He would have stopped and just waited for Applejack to catch him in the hope that someone in Ponyville could explain his predicament, but he gave out from mental and physical exhaustion before he could, and fell to the ground in a state of unconsciousness.

Emile felt himself moving on something, although he couldn’t open his eyes or to get a grip on his environment, or move to feel more of his surroundings. The only things he could draw from his five senses was the strong, sickening smell of antiseptic. A metallic taste in his mouth, and assorted frantic, panicking voices, each with a sense of urgency.

“Save my son! SAVE MY GODDAMN SON!”