09-03-2018, 08:37 PM
I wake myself up by screaming, suddenly becoming aware of a world filled with pain. At first it seems to be everywhere, coming from every direction. Then I realize it's in my side and that I'm running out of breath. I gasp violently, filling my lungs with air that I use to continue screaming because everything hurts and it's too much, the pain is too much, I can't stand it anymore ... ! I twist around, desperately trying to get at whatever is causing this. My vision focuses just in time to see a piece of dirt finish burrowing into my flesh. My mind, twisted by pain and shock, gives it an evil face and little creepy crawly legs as the last of it disappears.
Bad things seem to happen when I sleep.
Maybe it's because sleep is supposed to be a peaceful time, where the body heals and the mind rests. Maybe the evil in this world enjoys destroying that peace. Or maybe it's just a coincidence. After all, Really Bad Things™ have only happened to me twice, and although two out of two times makes one hundred percent, some might argue that I'd need to wait for more Really Bad Things™ to happen before coming to a conclusion. Of course, I'm not too keen on that experiment.
All this passes through my mind in an instant as I run out of air and my lungs demand more. I attempt to draw a breath and continue wailing, but to my horror the flow of oxygen is sluggish and difficult, the air around me seeming to thicken. Instinctively I try to gasp for more air, but the process refuses to quicken and my lungs are aching. Almost without realizing it, I start to move. My legs are carrying me in a seemingly random direction. I want to scream at them, to demand what they are doing as if they are thinking beings capable of responding, but breath is too precious to waste now.
I spend the journey choking. I barely notice when I reach the shoreline and some random horse starts speaking. It's only when he continues that I actually try to focus on his words. He has a job for me - us, he says. I want to scream at him that I don't care, that he can do whatever it is himself, but still there is no spare air to spend yelling. Then yet another pain blossoms in my side. I twist to see a bunch of gravel attempting to burrow into my flesh. NO! I think, scowling and attempting to leap away from it to no avail. It continues and soon enough I have another piece of dirt stuck inside me. Now isn't that just marvelous?
Find Pangea. Is that what we're supposed to do? But why should we help him? He caused this! He made us hurt, he made the rocks attack us, he is making us choke. But that's all the more reason to obey him, says a voice in my head. He just hurt you for no reason. Imagine what he might do if you refuse him. Grudgingly I listen to the voice and step into the ocean. Still unaware that I'll be able to breathe underwater, I struggle and struggle to draw in a deep breath in preparation before diving beneath the surface. What - what is Pangea, anyway? I dig through the memories of his monologue, and come up with the answer - a kingdom. He wants us to find his kingdom!
So this place has underwater kingdoms! Forgetting that I am still underwater, I let out a burst of hysterical laughter, realizing my mistake only when it emerges not as sound but bubbles. Panicking, I realize that there's no way I'll have enough breath now. My lungs demand more and I start struggling toward the surface even though I know there's no hope of reaching it in time. The urge to breathe is too strong now and my chest heaves in a huge gasp. I expect the burning sensation of water in my lungs, the terrifying knowledge that I am drowning - but there's nothing.
I can breathe underwater.
While it doesn't solve the problem of a crazy horse with an underwater kingdom or the pieces of rock buried inside me, at least I won't be drowning. I start kicking my legs with renewed vigor, determined to reach Pangea and not give the stallion any reason to hurt me more. I keep going even as my muscles grow sore and scream at me to stop, because I have to keep going. I like being alive - and to stay that way, I have to make the stranger happy.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity - my hooves touch down on mud. I've found Pangea.
Bad things seem to happen when I sleep.
Maybe it's because sleep is supposed to be a peaceful time, where the body heals and the mind rests. Maybe the evil in this world enjoys destroying that peace. Or maybe it's just a coincidence. After all, Really Bad Things™ have only happened to me twice, and although two out of two times makes one hundred percent, some might argue that I'd need to wait for more Really Bad Things™ to happen before coming to a conclusion. Of course, I'm not too keen on that experiment.
All this passes through my mind in an instant as I run out of air and my lungs demand more. I attempt to draw a breath and continue wailing, but to my horror the flow of oxygen is sluggish and difficult, the air around me seeming to thicken. Instinctively I try to gasp for more air, but the process refuses to quicken and my lungs are aching. Almost without realizing it, I start to move. My legs are carrying me in a seemingly random direction. I want to scream at them, to demand what they are doing as if they are thinking beings capable of responding, but breath is too precious to waste now.
I spend the journey choking. I barely notice when I reach the shoreline and some random horse starts speaking. It's only when he continues that I actually try to focus on his words. He has a job for me - us, he says. I want to scream at him that I don't care, that he can do whatever it is himself, but still there is no spare air to spend yelling. Then yet another pain blossoms in my side. I twist to see a bunch of gravel attempting to burrow into my flesh. NO! I think, scowling and attempting to leap away from it to no avail. It continues and soon enough I have another piece of dirt stuck inside me. Now isn't that just marvelous?
Find Pangea. Is that what we're supposed to do? But why should we help him? He caused this! He made us hurt, he made the rocks attack us, he is making us choke. But that's all the more reason to obey him, says a voice in my head. He just hurt you for no reason. Imagine what he might do if you refuse him. Grudgingly I listen to the voice and step into the ocean. Still unaware that I'll be able to breathe underwater, I struggle and struggle to draw in a deep breath in preparation before diving beneath the surface. What - what is Pangea, anyway? I dig through the memories of his monologue, and come up with the answer - a kingdom. He wants us to find his kingdom!
So this place has underwater kingdoms! Forgetting that I am still underwater, I let out a burst of hysterical laughter, realizing my mistake only when it emerges not as sound but bubbles. Panicking, I realize that there's no way I'll have enough breath now. My lungs demand more and I start struggling toward the surface even though I know there's no hope of reaching it in time. The urge to breathe is too strong now and my chest heaves in a huge gasp. I expect the burning sensation of water in my lungs, the terrifying knowledge that I am drowning - but there's nothing.
I can breathe underwater.
While it doesn't solve the problem of a crazy horse with an underwater kingdom or the pieces of rock buried inside me, at least I won't be drowning. I start kicking my legs with renewed vigor, determined to reach Pangea and not give the stallion any reason to hurt me more. I keep going even as my muscles grow sore and scream at me to stop, because I have to keep going. I like being alive - and to stay that way, I have to make the stranger happy.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity - my hooves touch down on mud. I've found Pangea.