Anon in Equestria: A Forest

>You stand on the edge of a deep, foreboding forest

>Behind you stretches a dirt road

>Tendrils of grass grow over the top as the forest slowly reclaims its land

>Above you is the rose-colored sky of a sunset after a storm

>Ahead of you, there is no path, only the brush and trees of a darkened coniferous forest

>There is nothing left for you on the withered path. It isn't a hard decision to make: you must press forward.

>As you enter the forest, the sky becomes somewhat brighter, as if nature herself is compensating for the lack of light

>She must want you to come closer

>Because you're in her home, you oblige her request, and continue into the forest

 

>You walk deeper and deeper into the woods

>The birds sing a beautiful lullaby for you, rhythmic and hypnotic

>Squirrels playfully chase each other on the branches

>This is not the dark, foreboding forest you thought it would be

>If anything, it's less threatening than the forests you remember back home

>You aren't near your home

>You aren't in your homeland

>You are traversing a forest in a world entirely different than your own

>Or at least, you guess as much. You don't recall how you got here.

 

>You were sickly before you got here

>Actually, sickly is a bit of an understatement

>For the last two weeks, you had been bedridden

>The family doctor knew no ailment that matched your symptoms

>He could only prescribe generic treatments for other illnesses yours was similar to

>You withered away

>Maybe that's how the road would feel, if it could feel, as nature reclaimed it

>Nature was reclaiming you, and you felt it

>One day, you went to sleep, and you woke up here

>"Here" was a field many dozens of miles away, down the ragged path

>This was heaven, you thought

>You had died of your sickness, and the pearly gates were only a few feet away

>You looked around, and saw no grand structures

>No gilded fences

>No pearled gates

>No saints, angels, or deities to judge you

>Only you, the field, and an overgrown path

 

>For a while, you thought you were in an "Anon in Equestria" story

>You regularly browsed the threads on 4chan

>You expected at any moment, along the way, to meet a pony, or some animal that could talk

>None spoke a word as you padded along the path

>You looked around, looking for any mountains that could hold a capitol city carved into the side

>The mountain range you saw bore no cities

>You watched the clouds, awaiting any pegasi to move them, or better yet, to spot the city of pegasi: Cloudsdale

>The clouds drifted idly along the sky, gradually growing darker until they rained on you

>No pegasus came to push the cloud away as you walked along your path

>You kept walking until you came to the forest, paused for a minute, and went in

 

>You stop to drink at a stream, and kneel down into the cool waters

>It's been a while since you were last able to drink, and the water tastes sweet

>It refreshes you, and you continue on your way

>Perhaps you're in purgatory, and this will be your punishment: to wander endlessly, searching for something

>Vaguely, you know you were searching for something, though that something eludes you

>You'll know it when you find it

>You'll have to

>Perhaps you will end up like Vladimir and Estragon

>Except that instead of waiting for Godot, Godot is waiting for you

>You'd done your fair share in life to deserve this

>Perhaps this is an afterlife that represents parts of your life in its punishments

>The path could represent your lot in life, a dead-end job you constantly risked losing

>The forest could be how you always viewed your future, unknown, yet it never turned out to be as bad as you thought it would be

>And the town up ahead--

>You stop in your tracks

 

>You've reached the end of the forest

>So much for that analogy.

>Maybe you aren't in the afterlife

>Magic is something you don't believe in

>How did you get here?

>It could be a dream, a dream you'll wake up any minute from

>Your train of thoughts pauses as the songbirds change, increasing the tempo and intensity of their song

>You stand on the edge of a forest

>Above you is a rosy-colored sky, the sun in the same position as when you entered the forest

>Behind you is a dark, foreboding forest that wasn't as bad it could have been

>Before you is a fanciful, pastel-colored town

>It looks a lot like Ponyville

>You look out at a mountain range behind the town, and your heart skips a beat

>The birds pause for a beat too, as if to reflect your surprise

>It's a city carved into the side

>The clouds are fluffier here, and a collection of clouds even have buildings on top!

>You have arrived in Equestria, land of your dreams and desires

 

>Something holds you back

>The birds' tempo is rocketing now

>Sweat drips down your face

>To continue into Ponyville would be to give up your old life

>You know you can never return if you do so

>This will be your lot in life forevermore

>You don't know how you know this

>You just know that it is a fact

>You take a step forward, and the birds abruptly change their tempo to a slow, dirge-like tune, until they stop on a single chord, holding it out for what seems like forever

>They're singing away your old life, you muse

>As you're about to take another stop, you remember your family and friends

>You're never going to see them again

>This is selfish of you, to leave them behind like this

>You turn around and face the forest, listening for the birds

>You no longer hear them, and you grow worried

>Is it too late? Can you return?

>The first step may have already been enough commitment for what brought you here

>Without hesitation, you run back into the forest

>Around you, it darkens as nothingness envelopes the forest

>Eventually, it takes you, and reclaims you

>Tendrils of darkness grow over your arms, as if to reclaim your body for the universe

>The birds begin their song again, and the darkness recedes, the tendrils losing their grip on you and dropping away

>Nothing surges back and washes over your existence

 

>The heart-rate monitor beside your bed beeps in an even tempo

>You open your eyes

>Nobody is in the room

>Glancing to the clock on your bedside table, you see that it's the evening

>The sun has begun setting, and a beautiful orange shines through your curtains

>You feel reinvigorated as you lie in your warm bed

>Better than you felt before you became sick

>You sit up, and breathe deeply

>After some deliberation, you decide to try getting out of bed

>You haven't left this bed in two weeks, but your legs are still strong enough to support your weight

>You try walking, and take a step forward

>You take another step forward

>And another

>And another

>You begin walking to your bedroom door

>You walk to the top of your stairs, and carefully descend them to your hallway

>You hear the clattering of silverware against porcelain plates down the hall

>Nobody is talking, which is odd for your family

>As you pad down the hall, the clattering stops

>They're listening to the footsteps

>"Anon?" a feminine voice asks

 

 

>You lean against the doorframe of your family's kitchen

>Everyone has stopped eating now, and all eyes are on you

>As you look at your family, you notice they're all dressed in black

>"Oh Anon, we thought we had lost you!"

>Your mother gets up and runs to you and cries softly as she hugs you

>"The doctor said your heart rate was so low, that there was nothing he could do...he said we were going to have to wait until..."

>She doesn't finish her sentence, but you can guess what the ending is

>Tears are going down your normally-stoic father's face

>Your little brother rushes up to hug your legs

>Your mind goes back to the edge of the forest, to the life you had been offered

>As you look over your family, you find comfort in your decision.