Good morning/afternoon/evening, today I bring you a new saga for the My Little Pony fandom.
This story is strongly inspired by the fic: "A Journey Beyond Sanity," which is one of my favorites. I don't know what happened to the author of that story; I hope he's okay. But his story inspired me to create this one.
Enjoy!
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Warning:
This fanfiction was created by a fan for fans with the purpose of improving in the art of writing. This story can and most likely will have spelling errors. Any criticism (constructive or not) will be read and appreciated. This story is not going to be a HIE or G5; it will be tinged with the G4 story, MLP: FIM.
Disclaimer: I don't own My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (I wish), all the rights go to her creator, Lauren Faust, I only own the oc's.
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New diary, day XX/XX/XXXX.
Hi there, writing this new diary because I lost all my other ones in that last attack. I want to keep track of what's happening, just in case someone finds this after I'm gone.
My name? Well, it's not really important anymore. I hardly use it, so I can't even remember what it was.
You might be wondering why I'm jotting all this down. Well, let me take you back a bit.
Back then, I was just your average Teenager—going to college, hanging out with friends, watching internet videos, you know, the usual stuff.
The news was buzzing about potential wars between countries, but nobody really took it seriously.
That all changed when they dropped the first nuke right in downtown Manhattan.
After that, chaos erupted big time. Powerful folks started launching nukes left and right, turning major cities into ghost towns.
And just like that, chaos took over.
Devastation spread like wildfire, wiping out everything in its path. Bustling cities turned into rubble, with only the wind and the cries of survivors left behind.
But the war didn't last long.
People realized there wasn't much left to fight for once the dust settled.
Communities sprang up to shelter the few still standing. But the fights didn't stop there.
People got greedy, wanting more, though nobody really knew what "more" even meant.
Communities boomed and busted, torn apart by fights from within and without.
I bounced around from one community to another, searching for some kind of home, trying not to feel so alone.
Till I couldn't take it anymore.
Seeing communities fall apart from human greed got to me. The world seemed messed up to its core.
So, I decided to step back, find some solitude.
Found refuge in one of the cities fried by radiation. At that point, I didn't care if it got me too. This world was in a sorry state anyway.
Survival became my main gig, relying on what I learned from those communities—growing crops, rationing out what little water and food I had.
Kept myself busy, you know?
Things were okay for a bit.
Till those bandits came along, wrecked my place, and sent me running with just the shirt on my back. Lost everything again.
But the memories of my loved ones? That's what keeps me going. I have to honor them, no matter what.
Recently, I managed to find my old house, and now I'm trying to rebuild my life here, even if it's just for the nostalgia that remains. It's a daunting task, but I know I must carry on. Not just for myself, but because I promised my mother before she passed away. Her memory and her wish to see me move forward drive me to fight every day, even when everything seems to be against me.
End of the new diary.
The book being written was closed and placed gently on the desk. The person, an adult in his thirties, got up from the desk in his room to prepare for a new day.
He was a tall, slim man, standing at about 1.72 meters, with long hair and a scruffy beard. He wore worn-out clothes as he headed to the bathroom to freshen up. After taking the best shower he could manage, he looked at himself in the broken bathroom mirror, studying his reflection as if he hadn't seen one in a long time.
After pondering for a while, he shrugged and told himself, "I'll have to figure out how to cut my hair." But then, an intrusive thought crept into his mind: Is it really worth it?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he gave himself a few pats on the face and affirmed, looking at his reflection in the mirror, "Yes, it's worth it."
He left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen, where he found an apple, the only food he had at that moment. He quickly devoured it before going outside to check on his crops.
Since the war ended, communities had started raising animals to try to lead a more normal life. However, having spent a lot of time alone, he hadn't been able to find any animals. That's why he had survived on a diet of vegetables and fruits.
The lack of proper nutrition had weakened his body more than usual, making his bones more fragile. He inspected his crops, making sure they didn't have sick roots or were infested with pests.
His routine continued until his sharp ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps.
Turning around, he saw some men coming towards him, armed with firearms.
"Assault rifles," he immediately noticed, as in his old community, the citadel, the scouts used assault rifles to protect themselves from any bandits they might encounter.
"Looks like they're from a community," thought the man as he raised his hands in surrender. He had no means of defending himself; he had always been more of a cultivator than a warrior, and he had never participated in the war that had destroyed the world.
Anxious, the man watched them as they continued to approach with their weapons raised. "Gentlemen, is there anything I can help you with?" he began, but his sentence was abruptly cut short as he was immediately shot by the armed men.
As he fell to the ground, he could hear the men speaking: "Quick, search the house for any valuables," one scout said to another, before footsteps faded into the distance.
"How rude," was the man's last coherent thought before darkness consumed him.
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Speculation about what comes after death has always been a hot topic. Some envision heavenly bliss, others dread eternal suffering, and then there are those who think there's some sort of continuation beyond the grave. But for me, it's a bit different.
Instead of the expected heaven or hell scenario, I'm stuck in this weird void. It's like floating in a bottomless pit of darkness, with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company.
Seriously, is this it? Afterlife just turns out to be a bleak, empty void? It's almost laughable... Even in death, I can't catch a break and be with my loved ones. Talk about irony.
So, what's the deal now? Am I doomed to float around in this void for all eternity?
As I reflect upon myself, a luminous white light in the background catches my attention, drawing nearer with each passing moment.
What could this radiant glow signify?
Push harder!
As I observe its approach, faint echoes of voices reach my ears.
Your foal is almost here, just a little more effort!
The closer I draw to the light, the clearer the voices become.
Indeed, I could swear I heard them speak of a foal, a curious yet perplexing notion.
Feel the magic within you and channel it toward your foal.
Magic? Wait... am I undergoing reincarnation or something akin to an isekai concept in a world of enchantment?
...Nice.
Though I remain puzzled by the persistent mention of the term "foal." While typically associated with young horses, I'm quite certain it doesn't apply to me, a human, does it?
...does it?
Suddenly, the luminosity envelops me, and a kaleidoscope of colors fills my vision.
"Congratulations, it's a male foal!" booms a voice, jolting my sensitive ears and coaxing me to open my eyes.
Only to be met by the sight of a pristine white ceiling.
So, I find myself in a hospital room.
...wait, foal again...
Oh no.
Without warning, the doctor repositions me into the "arms" of my new mother, which is a Unicorn with crystalline white fur, like freshly fallen snow with a white mane and tail with blue highlights and light blue eyes.
Oh...
Perhaps this isn't so dreadful after all.
At least they're not anthropomorphic ponies, and thankfully, I've avoided the EQG realm, which is already a relief.
Then, to my surprise, my newfound mother casts an anxious gaze upon me.
What now?
"Doctor is it typical for my foal not to cry after birth?" inquires my new mother, her eyes fixed upon the doctor, a stoic orange earth pony with a fiery red mane and tail, clad in medical attire, who now directs his attention toward me.
Uh oh.
The doctor, meeting my gaze, offers my new mother a reassuring response, "Do not fret, Miss Crystal Frost, it's not uncommon for a foal to delay its first cry at birth, but if you wish, we can conduct a swift examination to ensure his well-being."
Wait, my new mother's name is Crystal Frost? No, wait, more importantly, that wasn't the most tactful response, doc, judging by the concern evident in her azure gaze.
"Please proceed as you deem necessary, doctor," my new mother replies, her palpable concern evident, prompting a nod of affirmation from the doctor.
Oh no, what is the doctor planning to do to me? Ah, why can't I simply cry to expedite this ordeal!
Come on, focus, focus, focus, focus!
Why am I suddenly feeling so overwhelmed?
I distinctly recall feeling rather detached emotionally a moment ago.
This is perplexing.
Ah! Cease with the blinding light, you [Beep] doctor!
Wait, what?
[Beep]
Huh?
[Beep]
No...
[Beep], [Beep], [Beep], [Beep]!
No! I'm unable to curse now.
"Waaaaah!"
"There you go!"
"You did it, doctor!"
Ah, [Beep] my life.
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After that... incident at the hospital, my new mother rested in bed while the doctor took me to another room for medical check-ups. Should I feel embarrassed by this new experience? Honestly, no. Now, I'm just a baby—or a foal, if you prefer that term. Besides, I know it's a standard procedure for newborns, something I learned from one of the few doctors I encountered in the communities.
And strangely enough, it brought me a sense of comfort and solace. It's been so long since I've been in a hospital or around doctors, even if they aren't human. It made me cry again.
Goodness, why am I so sensitive? Hormones, perhaps?
Eventually, I was taken to a quiet room with other newborn foals and settled into a crib. Finally, some time to myself. A chance to reflect on my new situation. And honestly, I didn't know how to feel.
On one hand, I couldn't be with my loved ones after I passed away. On the other hand, I've been given a second chance at life, in a happier world than the one I left behind. It's all a bit overwhelming, and my tear ducts seem to agree.
Seriously, why the [Beep] am I so sensitive?
It's been years since my feelings had been numb.
It feels weird to feel again and as strongly as I do now.
And why do my curses sound... different? Is it Equestrian magic? Cartoon logic? Discord's influence? I honestly have no clue. And I don't like it.
Either way, I have to decide what to do.
If I judge the fact that I was reincarnated into a possible isekai trope in MLP that, thank goodness, they're not anthropomorphic nor are they EQG's so I'm fine with this.
Now, if I follow the isekai trope that is usually done in this type of situation, I will most likely get involved with the main characters of this series by being a seventh element of harmony pulled out of my ass or because I want to go home.
But I don't want to go back to my world in devastation, I have nothing left there, and god forbid If I become the [Beep]Ing seventh element of harmony.
So, to make sure I'm not, I have to stay away from the main characters.
Shouldn't be that hard right?
"Sweetheart, we're back!"
"Welcome home!"
I remained silent as my parents exchanged affectionate gestures; my gaze fixed on my father. Specifically, on the gleaming golden armor adorning him.
...well, [Beep].
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That would be it for the first chapter.
Goodbye.
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