That Which Should Never Cross


                                            >Ages.

                                            >It was ages since your last truly peaceful night of sleep, and you hadn't seen peace since you had seen your home.

                                            >Home...

                                            >You only remembered a ferry ride across the gorgeous canal that had to take you to a supposedly aged monastery, buried deep within a catacomb. A tourist attraction at some third-world city that tried to offer more than it had.

                                            >So much for that...

                                            >Being trapped in that hold, in his vehicle, seemed like an eternity, one without breath, or peace.

                                            >...

                                            >With a sudden tingling running up your forearm, you snap your eyes open.

                                            >You angrily awakened, growling as you began to sit upwards and forwards from your very small, and tattered bed, bringing your hand down upon your opposite arm. Your right hand on your left elbow. And under that hand, a dead bug.

                                            >"Fuck the wildlife here..." You mutter, now awakening to survey the scene.

                                            >Your eyes gaze down. You're in the bridge, which is exposed on the port side, almost torn apart, like it was capsized against a wall deliberately, and flipped back up.

                                            >The ferry wreckage, still abandoned on the wayside on the river that lead into the Everfree from just past the Gorge. You saw all the wrecked compacts and imports, ate up from the neglect of nature as you simply look down from the abandoned bridge, sitting a mere story above the deck but offering enough visibility to see everything... His ship laid half aground, mere meters from the woodline.

                                            >Like a sore thumb, corroded and sticking from its healthy host, ate with infection. The difference was clearly palpable.

                                            >You stand from your bed and begin to eye around from the damaged electrical room that you've been sleeping in, and stand to the bridge's main floor. It's clearly decimated, control panels flickering and sparking softly, how you wouldn't know but you dare not tamper with it. But you get an impending sense that just because you showed up here out of nowhere for a few days, so far, and with no signs of other survivors...

                                            >You feel the hairs wanting to stand on your skin...

                                            >You rub your eyes with your gritty hands, and shake your head. You've been cooped up here for three days. Mildew is heavily fragrant through the ship, only alleviated by the fresh air from the outside able to enter through the irreparable damage. The glass panes that exposed the outside world are shattered, giving no true shelter from nature.

                                            >But at least, for luck's sake... It was sunny, warm and almost abnormally nice.

                                            >You look around the scene once more, and begin to compose yourself...

                                            >And all of a sudden, the sensation gets to you. Reality Strikes.

                                            >You're probably gonna die.

                                            >You're alone.

                                            >And you definitely don't know where the fuck you are. This much you're certain of.

                                            >The unsurety seemed too vast to comprehend at the moment. And within the confined of this destroyed vessel you found no hope.

                                            >The Helmsman's wheel, destroyed and missing. The entire left half of the bridge, basically opened like a can opener, flipped up as if it were a mere piece of sheet metal. Wire. Clouds. Sun. Air. Wind. Too many details.

                                            >Too many details.

                                            >You're overloaded mentally as the capacity to make sense of the situation crashes in your mind. You don't know how you got here. You don't know why no one has found you. You look to your palms, and clasp your hands together. And squeeze.

                                            >Ouch, mild pain. At least you're not really dead.

                                            >You look up once more, the calls of birds flooding your ears as the soar overhead. Their loud flapping couldn't help but pull your attention as you sighed.

                                            >Whatever was available here was what you had... And you better pray they had an instruction manual on that shit too...

                                            >Suddenly, your vision is interrupted. Almost compelled. You look down again to the shattered windows of the bridge, looking dead ahead. And something floats above the treeline in the distance...

                                            >Wait...

                                            >Is that...

                                            >"IS THAT A BRIGHT PINK FUCKING BALLOON..?!"

                                            >You're dumbfounded. If your jaw wasn't attached to your face you couldn't mined a hole to not-Siberia and hid there like a mole. But you just looked down and thought, hard...

                                            >What do they always have on boats in case they get stranded at sea?

                                            >Bright Flags? Nah, everything looks like it got flipped over. You dont have a pole to hoist one up with.

                                            >Signal lights? Fuck no, you never learned how to signal in more code. Or if the light even fucking works. Or if there is one.

                                            >Radio? Probably off too. Everything else is.

                                            >Then, you have a brainfart, followed by a clear thought.

                                            >"Yo hold up, dont they carry signal flares in here?" You hurriedly growl as you go looking at the half-torn-off-the-floor command console for the ship, on your hands and knees to see if you cant find the exact thing youre looking for. This is where people who work on the ship kept all the other important shit after all!

                                            >You pull out each drawer without regards for closing it back, sending every empty drawer against the rusting steel wall.

                                            >Radio station? No. Weather Desk? Nope. Dead CCTV station? Nuh-uh. Navigation desk? Bingo.

                                            >You dont yank that drawer out to kingdom come, and instead grab the bright orange Flare Gun. On the bottom of the grip was a plastic slide, with two shells.

                                            >You look down at the flare gun, and turn out to look down the ship again as you see that bridge pink dot every so faintly grow in size.

                                            >"Is this gonna be worth it..?" You ponder in your head.

                                            >"..."

                                            >"Fuck it," you blurted as you shrugged, pulling a shell out of the small sliding clip attached to the flaregun, "It can only get so much worse..." Breaking the barrel, you stuff it, and flick your wrist back to yourself, closing it in a slick movement before extending your hand upwards, pointing the barrel of the flare gun up through the torn roof of the bridge.

                                            >You pull the trigger.

                                            >BANG!

                                            >The powering load sends the bright red dot blaring to the sky, and it soared higher, and higher. And then, it was done.

                                            >You fall to your knees, eyes going to the floor as you begin to ponder. What's gonna happen after this? How will you get home? Then you remember...

                                            >A violent gurgling ensues, and you grasp at your stomach.

                                            >Yeah, its been a few days and the last thing you ate was a can of sausages that were stored in a cabinet near that electrical room you've been hiding in.

                                            >You exhale and bring yourself to rest for just a second.

                                            >"Alright, you woke up at the perfect time and now people know where you are..." You sigh, exhausted but not defeated, "Let's hope we're not some sort of freakazoid person compared to these people... And their culture..."

                                            >"..."

                                            >"Unless this is Kenya, in which case, I think I may just die."

                                            >You stay down on the floor, unmoving. Your strength is low and your appetite is murderously high. If you overdo it now, it'll be a waste. On the floor is the Flare gun. Must've dropped it when the hunger it.

                                            >There's still one round on the slide.

                                            >"Let's..." You softly mutter to yourself, "Keep that for later..." As you finish your sentence, you pick it up and slide the barrel down your waist band.

                                            >You can't be too sure now, bud-ro...


                                            -Intr.Ch.2.

                                            >You stayed on the bridge since morning, eyes over the forest that lay ahead. You didn't know where anything was. You didn't know this place. And here you were. It was like one of those bad drug binges where you have no clothes and wake up in a bathtub, but not in a bathroom. Or a house for that matter.

                                            >That balloon had seemingly Risen above the eyeline provided by the inside of the bridge, the roof cutting it off mere moments after the flare was sent up. You only clung to hope, but your stomach dictated that you do more than just hope.

                                            >The intense churning and gurgling makes you heave a little and cough before you sigh, and arise from the mildewed and crooked captain’s chair, and turn opposite of the windows, seeing the stairs that lead down to the main deck. Taking slow and soft steps, you begin to walk across the creaking metal floors as you approach the stairway down to the main deck, hoping maybe an unlocked car would have a can of Chef Boy-Ar-Don’t in there or some shit.

                                            >The stairs are a metal prefab, two sets of rails with welded steps. They’re flimsy, and some cracked. You can see broken metal beams along the walls, and the wall to the outside was torn open at the doorway, a tree seemingly catching and ripping into it, as a snapped trunk now lay below the stair you were walking on. As much as the stairs shook, you knew the dead tree below you wouldn’t be crumbling quite so fast. But you’d rather not test your luck. A quick sprint down and a graceful leap leads you past the last five broken steps and onto your feet. You stand before the torn doorway.

                                            >Ahead there are cars. Some of them slung into one another, others seemingly gone or out of place, maybe one or two completely flipped. But a number were still in one piece and untouched on the main deck. Seeing everything at ground level, it was clear this ferry had done something incredible to beach aground at a woodline. Trees had battered the entire right side of the boat. But most of the left remained… Untouched.

                                            >What threw you off the most however, was the fact that lights were still on. Engines were still smoking, seemingly running. But as you stepped from out of the inside of the ship, you still saw no people. No bodies. This is where everything was wrong. The boat should have a drop of blood somewhere. A dead person. A live person, aside from you. But you found no one.

                                            >However, the sunlight hitting your skin after so long inside the wrecked vessel, and not much surrounding you, you closed your eyes and inhaled. The air; it was as sweet as lilac among fresh rain. A sensation that could not be replicated. A truly new place with an air like no other.

                                            >Gurgle, gurgle, muthafucka, your stomach reminds you, not with words but with some physical pain to help you remember your mission. You stop relaxing, but you feel a touch calmer as you traverse forward on the devastated deck. Starting at the row of vehicles closest, you begin to jiggle their door handles. You didn’t care for a running vehicle, at least not at the moment, but you really did want some grub. Sports cars, devastated trucks, even a flatbed tow truck slammed against the front rail of the ferry, which was on the ground at the cab, with the back of the bed still overhanging the lip of the deck just a bit. The search was arduous. Crappy vans, and even a couple motorbikes lay ahead.

                                            >And still, after an hour of prowling, nothing.

                                            >All the car doors were open. Almost all the cars were running, although a couple seemed to have sputtered and died. Why? Well, your best guess would be fuel, if it didn’t just get sent getting here.

                                            >And all of a sudden, you heard voices. Small sounding voices. Definitely a few females. Maybe a few males? Holy shit. But you felt unnerved. Something felt like it was foreshadowing this upcoming moment. Something was going to happen based on what came next. When? You didn’t know. But you were worried about right now, even with the ominous sense of dread lightly creeping up your neck.

                                            >Taking no chances, you look around, and try to decide what to get into. There’s so many wrecked cars. And perfectly good ones. Stuck in the middle, you have to…

                                            ”Yo nobody fucking likes Hybrids, I forgot!” You exclaimed before catching yourself.

                                            >Now there was dead silence. Apparently whatever was talking had just heard you, and you had completely forgot. What a fucking dipshit.

                                            ”Shitshitshit!” You whisper to yourself as you make a break for the row of cars closer to the bridge of the boat.

                                            >A teal, lumpy, dumpy hatchback Hybrid waited in the back, the door remain ajar from when you were seeking your meal. With a quick twirl around the door and a very fast diving in and closing of said door, you scuttle between the front seats, and settled into the back floorboard.

                                            >“Alright ponies! I know I heard somepony around this… thing?” A smooth, albeit a touch brash voice mused. Within an instant, a very shrill and cheery voice perked up.

                                            >“You mean there’s ponies in there?! And it just got here?! Do you think we’ll meet whoever put that here??” She inquired, and without any detectable pause that a normal person could detect. Just after that, excited squealing seemed to fill the air.

                                            >If it wasn’t tactically unsound, you’d scream out of sheer annoyance right now. Until…

                                            >“Pinkie Pie!” A rash voice pepped up before leveling out. “Look, I know you *may* like meeting new ponies but… This thing could have way scarier stuff inside!”

                                            >“Let’s just… Let’s just go inside and see what there is to be seen, okay ya’ll? Looks a li’l… well, musty if’n I could say myself.” That voice had a southern accent. Okay. This is getting fucking weird. Your biggest question is; was English truly the real universal language?

                                            >”Rarity, Fluttershy, you two stay here with Spike just in case you see anything. The rest of us will find a way in and check out what this is… Whatever it is, it looks old but it just showed up.” The one with the smooth voice stated ass

                                            >The window was cracked in the front of the driver’s side. This was a big advantage but also a big compromise. Just a cough would alert whoever was out there to your position.

                                            >You begin to breathe as calmly and silently as you can through your nose, knowing you have only one chance to–

                                            >*Grooooowl*.

                                            >Good going, stomach. Ain’t that a kick in the head?

                                            >”What was that?” You can hear the brash one asking. That one was a loud one. Almost 3 days, no food, and an empty tum-tum. Your luck has decreased by 2 at this point.

                                            “Fuuuuck…” You softly utter in a whisperful sigh. That was a painful one.

                                            >”I think I hear somepony!” That annoying one with the high pitch chimed, before a flurry of hooves followed by a gush of wind was heard, only followed by a soft thud against…

                                            >...

                                            >The rear driver door. Exactly where your head is.

                                            >*Guuurgleeee.*

                                            >Thanks,’ stomach.

                                            >A set of bright, pink eyes stares down at you with wide pupils as you look up from your fetal position to the window. Oh god.

                                            “Okay so I know I havent done drugs in a while…” You whisper to yourself confidently, “but I’m pretty sure the running rumor was a pink elephant or a pink dragon… Not a horse.”

                                            >”TWIIIIIII!” You hear he scream as you can only reel back, falling against the cracked passenger side door and rolling onto the dirty, salty and musty deck floor, right on your head.

                                            >CRACK!

                                            >It sounded just like a watermelon, and before you could move to inspect the damage or even feel what felt hurt…

                                            >Oh, the back of your head feels warm…

                                            “Oh, neat… a puddle…” You murmur, eyes struggling to stay open as you try to reach up, but find yourself all but able to.

                                            >”Oh no, he’s hit his head! You sure scared him Pinkie!”  A blue, astute standing pony remarked, a brow raised with curiosity at what exactly she was looking at on the ground. “Wait, is that..--?”

                                            >”Oh no, he’s split his head…” You can faintly hear the smooth one remark as you look to your right to try and understand what all is happening.

                                            >Your cheek lightly splashes the small puddle of blood the back of your head was resting on. The high pitched one Screams, as well as that southern sounding one. There was a purple one running up to you. Oh god. Oh fuck that’s scary. Why is she running to me? What’s that on the ground? Where’s my car at..? What drugs did I–..?”

                                            >Your eyes close. You feel tears as you slip into the dark. You’re comfortable, although you hurt a little in the back of your head…

                                            ”Where…?”

                                            >That was the last word you remember speaking before it all goes completely away.


                                            --MS.Ch.1

                                            >You awaken among a bed, soft and plush. The scene changes from the last time you had your eyes opened…

                                            >There now sits three ponies directly across from the foot of your bed amongst a hospital room, a hookup weirdly wired between your nipples as you reach forward.

                                            >The monitor sounds off immediately as your hand surged forward, and so did you, upward from your laying position as you’re enveloped by a warm aura. You feel as if you’re being held all over by your mother figure. But that warmth evaporates when you remember you’re not home. In .002 Microseconds, you lose the warmth, but stay gripped.

                                            >Panic. Claustrophobia. You’re restrained.

                                            >Your movement is at their mercy.

                                            >Your eyes finally focus out of their panic-stricken state. You see two big horse, one black and one white, and the small purple one.

                                            >The tall white one. The one that looks like she has the daylight sky gleaming in her mane. Her horn is glowing. It’s the same color of the Aura that surrounds you. Powerless, your muscles relax, and your hand goes from a forceful gripping motion to a soft release before dropping onto your lap, and the three stare dead at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

                                            “Who am I and Where are you?” You ask in your disoriented state.

                                            >”I beg your pardon..?” The medium sized black one asks. The aura around you seems to dissipate as your focus seems to shift to the scene.

                                            >”I think he’s still somewhat confused.” The small purple one states with a note of uncertainty. She eyes you up and down, her single raised eyebrow slowly falling back to level with the other one. However, the two larger ones, they seem very curious about you.

                                            “That.” You promptly rasp before realizing two things. You’re incredibly thirsty, and you’re extremely sore in the back of your head. “Okay, *where* am I, one, and two, *who* are you? Or better… What are you?!” You started with a dulcet tone but it quickly showed tension. The three winged unicorns could obviously see your confusion.

                                            >”You’re… Well, you’re in a small town called Ponyville, and at that, you’re in the hospital.” The purple one calmly retorts. “And we are… Well, we’re ponies, but to be specific, we’re Alicorns.”

                                            “The fuck’s a ponyville?!” You ask in even more audible and visible confusion. “THE FUCK’S AN ALICORN?!”

                                            >”A town with ponies in it. Mostly earth Ponies and Unicorns.” Twilight again responds before the white one raises a hoof and shushes the small one.

                                            >”I, stranger, am Princess Celestia of Equestria. My sister, Princess Luna, and our student and newest Princess, Twilight Sparkle.” The tall white one spoke with confidence. Her voice was delicate but eloquent, almost dominating without a single raise in voice. “We are curious as to your… Origins, and better yet exactly *what* you are… But you seem like you’re able to speak for yourself.” With that, the tallest looked to the other two before looking back to you. Celestia paused for a second before she finally broke her silence. “Who are you?”

                                            >You paused for a second. Looking down, you kinda felt a little existential crisis coming up– Nonono, question first, deep thinking later. You contemplate for only a second before you answer.

                                            “Well, I’m Anon. E. Mousse, but Anon works fine too.” Your simple response caught them off guard.

                                            >”Well… You were the only one of your kind found among that wrecked ship on our river.” Luna interjects suddenly. “And really, we don’t know *why* or *how* you got there.” That statement leaves everyone quiet for a second.

                                            “I don’t even know why I’m here, dammit!” You blurt before you put your right hand to your eyes and begin to rub your face and forehead with your hand. “You guys are killing me and I just woke up… This is gonna be a headache day for sure,” you remark disappointedly as you let out a soft sigh.

                                            >”Well, if it makes your headache easier, it seems like you won’t really be leaving for a while. And if anything, you split your head open when Pinkie Pie scared you out of your metal shell thing.

                                            “Metal Shell thing..?” You ask, puzzled. “You mean the car I was in?”

                                            >”Sister, may I ask the burning question, with all respect?” Luna asked bluntly. Celestia merely nodded in reply. “What in the Tartarus is a ‘car’?”

                                            “A vehicle.” You reply simply.

                                            >”You mean, like my balloon?” Twilight asks, unable to shield her curiosity from exposing itself.

                                            “That was YOUR ballo– I mean yeah, like that, it gets you places.” You settled down before calling a bright pink balloon ‘pretty fuckin’ gay’. At this point, they won’t know what gay means, or they’ll simply just be offended despite the oblivious ways they are to your vernacular.

                                            >”Does it need a lot of magic?” Twilight asks excitedly.

                                            >”Twilight!” Celestia softly exclaims before eyeing Twilight with a soft hint of irritation before exhaling, and looking you in the eyes. “He isn’t a magic user, Twilight. That much you should be able to feel…” Twilight however, looked down in embarrassment.

                                            >”I mean, I kinda was thinking he might be able to hide it…” Twilight grumbled softly before Luna rolled her eyes in amusement.

                                            “I don’t believe in that crap.” You blurt in confidence before you exhale sharply and grasp your stomach once more. Sweet nuclear Jesus the hunger is real. You begin to lie back slowly on the bed you’re grounded in.

                                            >”Crap…? Excuse me but… I guarantee I could stop your stomach from growling using that ‘crap’ magic, y’kno!” Luna retorts, seemingly more offended than any of the two, although they look about as done with your shit as the people who have to witness the Twilight-x-Spiderman artwork.

                                            “Yeah, sure, just drop a loaf of bread in my lap why friggin’ don’tcha?!” You retort.

                                            >”We could, but… There’s ponies for that. And it just so happens the Dinner comes around in about… Twenty minutes, isn’t that so Twilight?” Celestia inquires rhetorically.

                                            >”Mhmm! At least the growling stomach will stop. But, Celestia…” Twilight looks upward to her, she is between Luna and Celestia, and the size difference is noticeable amongst the hospital seats.

                                            >”Later, Twilight. Right now, I think we should let our guest rest and eat. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if we visited him again after dinner is over, yes?” Celestia turns her gaze from down at the small purple Alicorn to you again. You feel the piercing stare. Her eyes. You shake your head and simply nod.

                                            “If you wouldn’t mind, I would kinda like to figure out exactly what the fuck my life has come to right now…” You muse before turning your gaze away from the three mares. Your eyes draw to the wall to your left, an open window showing the setting sun as you can feel the wind softly blowing through.

                                            >The sunset…

                                            >That’s what you remember before you woke up on the floor of that boat and holed up in the bridge for two days. That same shade of red and orange. The three mares rise before you speak to catch their attention once more.

                                            “The Sunset… How often does it look like this?” You inquired. Celestia gave a soft little smirk. You wouldnt notice however, as that star in the sky, the horizon, seemed to call out with your hope. You felt something there. You were compelled to believe that sunset had something to do with it all. >”I make sure to bring such beautiful sunsets during the peak of spring. After all, its when the beauty and magic of it all come together in a ubiquitous harmony… Wouldn’t you say?” Celestia seemed to imply a lot in that one sentence. One, she controls sun, got it. Two, only in spring. Three, haha, she thinks you’ve been around enough to know what a Ubiquitous Harmony is. Sounds like a really cheesy love song.

                                            “S-Sure…” You muse as you’re caught up in the sun. The shading of the horizon. A gorgeous lavender and pink with a settling orange base. It was unable to be denied. This was the sunset on that day. And you only felt a pull back to another place. Like your soul was just snatched from your body in a mere second as you could see flashes.

                                            >A wave in a Canal. An abnormality for sure.

                                            >Your balance being thrown off.

                                            >Your motorcycle falling onto your leg and pinning you.

                                            >And then, the world going upside down before you fell into the water.

                                            >A bell tolls in town, and you snap back. Your eyes fixate on the three as they leave. But your eyes return to the setting sun, only to see the last sliver of light disappear on the horizon. You felt something close on your body and soul. Like a door that shut all that hope out. You somehow knew… Your key to returning home lay somewhere in this weird ass land of technicolor ponies.

                                            >The tallest of the three, Celestia, sticks her head into the door.

                                            >”*I’ll* be having a conversation with you after you eat. So please, don’t rush yourself.” Her calm tone dictated a slight demeanor you couldn’t quite unmask. What was so important she’d come back again?

                                            >You look out the window, past the hardware as an unsettling weight lays itself upon your shoulders…

                                            >You’re going to be here for a bit, like it or not… Might as well get ready to eat. As your patience is tested, you hear the clopping of a nurse’s hooves going down the hall.

                                            “Excuse me? Miss?” You calmly call out. “Nurse?” After the second call the hoofsteps pause, and her head peeks in at you, filled with what could be best described as a genuine fear.

                                            >”Y-Yes?” She nervously replies.

                                            “Do you know what dinner is?” You calmly ask.

                                            >”H-Hayburgers!” She replies hurriedly before you can hear her audibly gallop away. You look down. You’re not sure whether the fact of there being burgers made out of hay, or that you’re the only one of your kind here, is truly worse in your circumstance.

                                            >You feel the pressure. You don’t belong here. But something in your gut says you’ll be here for a while, and at that, you’ll make it.

                                            >At least, you hope so…