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Chapter I
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>1995.
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>New year, new you.
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>Or at least an idea of a new you.
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>Nobody keeps those resolutions for more than a week.
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>You sit up on the roof of your 1983 Ford Ranger.
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>It’s a beater, but it’s better than nothing.
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>The fender is barely holding on.
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>A headlight is out.
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>And the windows feel like you have to crank a boulder on a jack to open them.
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>Probably should fix the headlight though.
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>Might get pulled over for it.
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>19 year old in a traffic stop sounds like a horror film for college students.
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>You shake your thoughts away about the car, and refocus on the cliff you’re parked on.
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>Or what’s in front of it.
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>The view of Biloxi was pretty up here.
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>Felt like the only pretty city in Mississippi, right on the beach.
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>Everywhere else was okay, but this was a gem.
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>The casinos looked real pretty, though the memory of getting thrown out of that one when you were 14 muscles it’s way to the front of your mind.
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>Think of something else.
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>Housing was surprisingly cheap for the area.
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>Well, no intriguing thoughts are popping up.
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>Might as well sleep.
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>You remember it’s new year’s night.
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>Neighbors would either get drunk or blow out backs.
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>It’s probably both.
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>Sleeping in the car suddenly gets way more appealing.
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>Jumping down and opening the door, you crawl into the backseat.
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>Locking the door behind you, another thought comes to mind.
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>You remember that you did lock your apartment, and your 2 seconds of panic subside.
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>Before you sleep, your hand instinctually grabs the box of VHS tapes you have.
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>Even when you were a kid, VHS was always such a cool thing to you.
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>Recording memories and see Tom Cruise?
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>Absolutely amazing.
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>With your hand firmly protecting your precious treasure, your eyelids grow quite heavy.
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>Least it was easy to fall asleep tonight.
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<>
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>”Who is he?”
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>”He just showed up on the side of the lake, I genuinely don’t know who he is.”
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>By instinct you start to speak and try to get up.
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“I’m sorry officer; I’ll mo-“
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>You fall right back onto your back.
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>Are your hands covered in butter or something?
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>You inspect your trusty righty.
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>…
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>That’s a hoof.
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>What.
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“Is this some elaborate prank where y’all stuck me in a horse suit or something?”
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>The blurry white and pink blob slowly comes into focus.
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>Some sort of…
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>What.
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>Horse?
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>Wearing a nurse hat, and it looks like a she.
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>“You’re not in a tailored suit, but confusion is normal when somepony unconscious wakes up.”
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>Using your newfound limbs, you sit up on the hospital bed.
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>At first the equine nurse instinctively tried to stop you.
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>But she let you get up and leave the bed.
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>It’s hard to walk with four legs, but it’s easy enough to figure out.
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>After falling once, you spot a mirror on the side of the bed.
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>At this point the nurse is just watching you get acclimated to your environment.
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>Finally, you can see how to get this suit thingy off.
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>It feels pretty real though, a bit too expensive for a prank.
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>You try and pick up the hand mirror on the bed stand next to the hospital bed.
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>After fiddling with it, you rear like a horse and try to grab it.
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>The nurse seems to look away, her face a bit redder than before.
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>Not knowing what she is worked up about, you try to see how bad of a suit they put on you.
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>Finally, you get the mirror facing your face.
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>…
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>That’s not a suit.
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>Your face, it’s a horse.
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>You blink your right eye, and your reflection perfectly answered you.
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>No.
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>You don’t believe it.
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>A soft voice behind you brings you out of your spiral.
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>”Are you okay?”
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>You almost forgot she was here.
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”Am…Am I actually a horse?”
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>The nurse laughs a bit at your genuine question.
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>…Would she be considered a nurse or a vet?
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>Minor questions for later.
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>She responds in a voice of patience and slight tinge of normality, like she is used to hearing this.
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>”Of course you are, but with that kind of question you should lay down again.”
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>Looking around you only see photos of Horses.
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>Colorful, and not like the ones you remember seeing.
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>You try and get back into the hospital bed. This is probably a dream anyways.
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>”What’s your name?”
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“Anon.”
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>”…Interesting name, I’ve never heard that before.”
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>You look around for anything familiar.
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>The mare catches on, and taps your shoulder, if it could be considered that.
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>”Oh, If you’re worried about your book and those strange black boxes you had, Dr. Hooves wanted to look at them. He said he’ll dissect them for study. Just thought you’d want to know.”
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>What.
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>Dissect?
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>NOT TOM CRUISE!
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>You spring out of the bed in a panic.
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“Where is he?”
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>She looks a little worried now.
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>”A-Anon calm down-“
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“WHERE IS HE?!”
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>She points to a group of ponies outside,
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They all seem to be discussing something over your box.
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>The hospital passes in a blur as you gallop to the entrance.
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>You didn’t know you’d get used to walking on all fours this fast.
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>Not now, Top Gun was in danger.
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>You charge through the entrance, and see a pony about to carry your precious VHS tapes away.
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>You remember what your father taught you.
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>Shoulder charge.
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>Ramming into the brown Stallion, he’s sent flying back about 15 feet.
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>You take the box and put it behind you, standing guard to your stash of magnetic strips.
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>”What the buck are you doin’?!”
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>Orange and yellow mare is yelling at you.
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>She walks up to you first, but the others move to help the poor Stallion on the ground.
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>There’s a fire in her eyes you can’t describe.
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>”Why did you go up n’ hurt this poor pony?”
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>Sadly the fire wasn’t interest in you.
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>Looks like some explaining is due.
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>Least you know it’s not a dream.
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