Cerulean Skies pt. 1

>Ugh. Your fucking head throbs.

>What happened last night? It’s a little distressing you don’t remember, but you’ve been blackout drunk before. The last time you did that was... huh. You can’t recall. Early college, maybe?

>A soft breeze blows over you, and you flit your eyes open in response. Immediately you know something’s wrong and yet somehow you remain comforted.

>You’re lying on your belly among tall grass that sways in the breeze. Taking a deep breath in you smell the rich scent of the soil. The sky above is a breathtakingly vivid hue of blue unlike any you recall and not a cloud to be seen anywhere. Didn’t you have something to do...?

 

>Oh, shit. Work! You’re going to be late for work! Sheesh, you’re so scatterbrained today.

>But wait. Just where the hell are you, anyway? You push off of the ground, but something feels odd about the entire thing. Twitches running down your entire body, as though your body is defiant of this action. You can barely peek above the level of the tall grass -- this is some amazing grass -- and catch sight of a red barn on a hill in the distance.

>Just as soon as you spot it you lose your balance and tumble forward, falling prone onto the loamy soil. You look down toward your arm only to see a pastel green furred limb ending in a hoof.

“AAAAAAHH!”

 

>Dozens of nearby birds are suddenly startled into the air by your sudden shout. What the hell happened to you? You glance yourself over as well as you can, and confirm that you are in fact a hoofed greenish quadruped with a brown tail. And... what are those attached to your sides? Wings?

>Yes, yes those ARE wings. You grin goofily as you play with the controlling muscles, extending and slowly flapping your feathered wings. Being able to fly has always been a childhood daydream of yours -- and now you might have a shot at it! Too bad you don’t know how to fly, or you could just quickly get your way to work. Wait, how the hell are you going to work or even live in normal society like this?

>You sigh, plopping your butt on the ground and silently ponder your predicament. Your wing tucks itself flush against your body neatly.

 

>”Hello?” you hear a voice calling out, sounding like a southern girl.

>Briefly you weigh the difference between making contact or trying to make it on your own with your newfound condition. No, you’re going to need help with this.

“Over here!”

>”Ah’m a comin’, sugarcube!” the voice replies. You hear a soft hoofbeat and the sound of the tall grass being rustled. The form of an orange pony wearing a Stetson hat can be seen bursting through the nearby grass. She looks you over.

>”Are ya alright? Ah heard ya yell, so ah came lookin’ fer ya lickedy-split.”

 

>You shake your head.

“No, I’m a human and I’m late for work but I woke up like this and I don’t know what to do!”

>She seems to take a moment to absorb all that in while you are on the verge of tears.

>”Human? Oh, nelly... Looks like you aren’t around from here, are ya?”

“No, there aren’t talking ponies where I’m from.”

>”Well there ain’t humans here neither, just in books for little fillies...”

“What?”

>She looks nervous. “Uh, don’t ya worry about it. Look, ah’ll see to it you get the best help around. Can ya walk?”

“I think so...”

>You stand up and take a couple nervous steps toward her, but walking seems to come naturally enough to you, even if it feels weird with twice as many legs.

 

>”Good! My name’s Applejack, by the way. What’s yours partner?” She offers a hoof much like one would extend a handshake.

“I’m--”

>An electric sensation runs across your brain, feeling as though someone just ran a shock paddle to the back of your head for a split second.

“--Anonymous.”

>Oogh, you don’t feel well. Anonymous? What the hell? That isn’t your name, it really is--

>Zap.

>”Ya sure yer feelin’ alright?”

>You shake it off, then reach out with your hoof to make contact, the two of you somehow shaking hooves despite it not really making sense to you right now.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

>”Alright, let’s get to the farm. Are ya hungry, Anonymous?”

 

>You follow Applejack out of the tall grasses and into a hilly apple orchard. As the two of you walk you begin to realize just how hungry you are and by the time you reach the farmhouse you’re downright famished.

>”Go on ahead and sit down for a spell in the living room while I fix ya something right quick,” Applejack says while wandering into the kitchen.

>Following her direction, you plop down in a seat in the living room across the room from an old mare snoozing in her rocking chair. The very act of thinking about how awkward a conversation with her would be seems to rouse her from her slumber.

>”Eh? AJ did ya bring home yer coltfriend? It’s about darn time!” she calls out.

>Applejack’s voice can be heard from the kitchen. “No Granny, ah’m just helpin’ him get a bite to eat then we’re going to the hospital.”

>”What was that? Don’t ya go yellin’ round the house and think everyone can hear ya AJ. Ya should have better manners than that in front of yer coltfriend here.”

 

>Applejack pokes her head into the living room, looking at you and blushing. “Granny, he ain’t my coltfriend. He’s a stranger who hit his head or somethin’ and we’re going to the hospital as soon as he gets something t’ eat, okay? His name’s Anonymous. Anonymous, this is Granny Smith.” She turns and goes back into the kitchen.

>”Well why didn’t ya just say so in the beginn--” Granny dozes off again in her chair, and you can’t help but feel a bit relieved.

 

>Applejack calls you to the kitchen table a short while later and there’s … a whole freaking apple pie sitting on the table at one of the places.

>She notices your apprehension. “Well, go on. Don’t ya worry ‘bout me, ah just had lunch a little while ago.”

>You sit at the table, rather uncomfortably. How the hell are you going to eat pie with hooves? And shouldn’t you be eating something a little more balanced than just a pie?

>Applejack just stands across the room, watching you with an amused look on her face. As you sit, struggling to work out the logistics of eating baked goods as a winged horse, her smile fades.

>”Ya really don’t have any idea how to eat, do ya sugarcube?” she asks with utmost seriousness in her voice.

>You shake your head, nearly tearing up at the prospect of being somehow too dumb to eat.

>”Go on, just shove yer face in it. Ah don’t mind.” You shoot her a look of horror for suggesting such a barbaric method of eating. She looks away from you. “It’s like ya really don’t know how to be a pony, no offense.”

“Well yes, it’s my first day at it.”

>You reply sarcastically before assaulting the pie with your face. It’s the best fucking apple pie you’ve ever tasted, your mind is blown by the sheer richness of flavor. The thought that apples could possibly taste this good had never entered your mind before, and it’s perfectly complemented by cinnamon and other spices.

“This pie is amazing!”

 

>Applejack smiles at your compliment.

>”Aw shucks, ah just threw somethin’ together in a jiffy fer ya.”

“Seriously, I mean it. This is the best pie I’ve had in my life.”

>You get back to eating while Applejack looks on, blushing.

 

>”Say, Anonymous.” She says, breaking the silence except for the noises of you messily eating the pie.

“Yes?”

>”What’s life like as a human?”

“What, you believe me now?”

>Applejack looks down. “Well, it sounds crazy an’ all, but from what ah’ve seen, ya seem fine except ya ain’t used to anything all pony-like.”

>Nodding, you lick the area around your mouth clean.

“I’m having a hard time remembering some things. I can picture my girlfriend’s face but can’t remember her name. I’ll tell you what I remember about being human, but some other time, okay? You were saying something about a hospital.”

>”Uh, yeah. Well t’ be perfectly honest, ah was gonna take ya there mostly ‘cause ya seemed crazy. Now ah don’t know what to think.”

>She clears the table for you, gently plonking the serving plate in the sink basin.

“I noticed. And thanks for the help, Applejack.”

>”Not a problem. Hey, ah’ve got an idea! There’s a friend of mine in town who might be able to help ya!”

“A psychiatrist?”

>”Psychowhatnow? No, she’s a librarian.”

“How is a librarian going to help?”

>”Just ya trust me on this, Anonymous. Now let’s go!”

>She’s practically pushing you out of the chair and to the front door.

“Alright, alright. I can walk for myself you know.”

 

end pt 1