Journal of William Zachariah Klaskovsky

In the increasingly likely event that I am somehow either horribly killed, dismembered, devoured, trampled, maddened beyond repair or transformed into a block of blue cheese, I suppose that these records shall leave some semblance of my previous self before my passing.

My name is William Zachariah Klaskovsky, age nine, from the Saint Claire’s Orphanage for Wayward Children. Whereas I would dearly enjoy simply cutting directly to the ‘juicy bits’, as it were, I am nearly completely certain that should anyone find these records, I shall be deemed irrevocably deranged. I assure you, while thoroughly unsettled at the recent events, I am quite sane.

Or at least, I believe so. This accursed draconequus forces me to question even my own mental integrity every few minutes.

Where to even begin…

Day 1 –

It would appear that my new adoptive father has little to no actual understanding of adoption processes; regardless, all was said and done, paperwork was quietly filed, and then we had a quiet lunch of greasy hamburgers as the revolting visage of a plastic clown loomed over us menacingly the entire time. Perhaps one thing (of many, I assure you) that I cannot bring myself to fully grasp is precisely why this ‘draconequus’, as he deems himself, does not seem out of place to any wandering eyes.

Although, according to ‘Discord’, being a living God of Chaos has numerous perks.

… And I still refuse point blank to call him ‘Daddy’.

He genuinely seemed a tad disappointed by this revelation.

I believe that Discord was attempting to give me a sort of ‘last meal’ before returning to his home planet, or something to that effect. He continuously snickered on, muttering about ‘exotic tastes’.

I would have asked him out of sheer curiosity, before he began slurping down an enormous milkshake glass.

Not the milkshake, the glass around it.

While the milkshake remained in place.

And then it exploded.

God of Chaos, indeed.

The entirety of our day, any questions that I asked of Discord that pertained to our destination were either ignored or answered with babbling about a love of surprises, and I wound up keeping mainly to myself for the majority of the day. Eventually, however, he checked a watch that had somehow appeared on his wrist (I find that I am slowly beginning to question these impossibilities less and less, as I am obviously losing my mind completely) and snapped his… well, I can daresay that those are fingers.

His talons, I suppose.

Discord snapped his talons, instigating instantaneous teleportation.

Of all the potential methods of travel that I expected, I must admit, that was definitely not one of them.

I believe that I have Discord to thank, in some aspects. In retrospect, he had probably spent his day slowly but surely allowing me to acclimate to the bizarre and unusual aspects of himself that seemed to warp the fabric of reality around his whims. Had it not been for this, and my miniscule level of desensitization to the sheer irrationality, I may have suffered from a complete meltdown.

Actually, I stand corrected. I believe that I may still suffer from a complete meltdown, as this first day has been thoroughly surprising enough on its own.

Discord allowed me some time to collect myself as he showed me a strange sight; however, I fear that I could not get a proper view of this ‘Ponyville’, as he referred to it, as I was thoroughly obsessed with the sudden yet inexplicable shift in sight. I daresay that I shall handle the culture shock in a similar manner, and I brace myself accordingly.

The colors of this world (and I am quite certain that we just leapt between dimensions, opening up an entire slew of theoretical conundrums) seem to be much brighter than anything on Earth, the pigments much more solid and colorful. The air is crisper, cleaner; although this may simply be a byproduct of living the entirety of my life in Brooklyn.

Now, on to the next mindboggling observation.

The majority of the inhabitants of this world (thankfully) do not seem to be immensely overpowered mad gods comprised of too many creatures.

They are ponies.

Walking, talking equines.

At first, I merely assumed that they were small horses, but these inhabitants appear to be a bit smaller than that. From their size, I surmise that they are around the size of Shetland ponies, and some are slightly under that size as well. A great number are multicolored in a way that makes my eyes irritated from watching them for too long.

Of course, I did not exactly have much time to gawk and dilly-dally, for bare moments after we arrived in the center of a wide dirt road that all hell proceeded to break loose.

Ponies stared at us for several moments, before a great abundance of screaming and panicking began, followed (surprisingly) by what one could expect should something of the sort occur in the streets of Brooklyn. There are similarities between our worlds, it would seem; I wonder just how many.

Discord seemed to be enjoying the mayhem far too much, and led me toward what he assured me was a library as he whistled a jaunty tune. I was also expectant of being taken for questioning by these creatures, or at the very least interrogation; although my fears are either completely unwarranted, or the ponies of this place know Discord a little too well.

This also terrifies me, for reasons unknown.

The ‘library’ in question, which I was actually looking forward to visiting, was actually built into a large oak tree. Out in the front of the ‘building’ stood a small sign, aligned with numerous strange symbols. I was thoroughly dismayed by this; whereas it would appear that these ponies have developed a knack for a structurally sound phonetic system, I shall be forced to relearn an entire alphabet should I wish to pore over their books.

No matter. I shall accomplish it in time.

I am loathe to admit that I was caught in my distraction, staring in awe at a wooden sign, of all things, that I first clearly heard other voices. In English, to be sure, although the accent was a light and strange one.

They seem to speak English fluently, but write in different languages comprising of whorls and symbols.

More questions.

So many questions!

Upon the front door to the library being flung open, I did my best to hide partially behind Discord, gripping at the tip of his tail and assuming a posture that belayed childlike innocence so as to make myself appear less threatening.

Alien or not, I sincerely suspected that this race held the same weakness for adorable and frightened children that the human race does.

And weaknesses can be exploited.

Discord appeared to know the equines within the library personally, and I managed to peek past him far enough to catch a glimpse of more of them; five, possibly six in total, each colored with a base color of the rainbow.

Including one which really bore every spectrum of the rainbow in both her mane and tail, and it was then that I caught my first sight of a pegasus. It would appear that this world has more than one species of pony, mythological or not.

More questions.

She (and I assume that it was female, judging from voice and the length of mane) was actually in the middle of probing, with a shockingly human expression. Within the span of moments, the pegasus ran the entire gamut of emotions from shock, to elation, to grief, back to elation, confusion, anger, and as her eyes finally landed on myself, outright horror.

Yes. Definitely female.

I suppose I shall have to end my summary of the main events of the first day here, as ‘Twilight’ did not supply me with an adequate source of ink. Honestly; if these ponies still use quills, I am willing to bet that I could market the simple pen and brand myself as an inventor. Doubtlessly, I could possibly claim sole ownership of numerous of Earth’s inventions, and I could have these creatures bowing before me as a technological god within a matter of days.

I shall conclude my summary, along with my thesis on the grounds of interdimensional travel in the morning; that is, should days progress here as they do on Earth.

Ah, one last thing.

I did manage to finagle a name from Discord (finally) of the name of this place.

Equestria.

Rainbow Dash paced ever so slowly back and forth before the grinning draconequus, leaving Fluttershy rather antsy. She was afraid that Rainbow Dash was going to begin throwing things again for a moment, and her poor cottage couldn’t withstand much more of her wrath.

“Discord.”

“That’s what they call me!”

Rainbow Dash seethed, the clop of her hooves filling the air as she paced in front of the reclining and thoroughly unrepentant God of Chaos.

“You were gone for months, Discord – months! I don’t even – how could you – this is the most – I am so angry right now!” she bellowed, unable to contain herself. She ruffled her wings agitatedly, barely containing her frustration.

“Discord, just what have you done this time?” Fluttershy asked quietly.

“Explain yourself!” Rainbow Dash shouted before he had time to reply.

“I would, if you’d stop interrupting,” he replied with a snarky grin.

“NOW, Discord!”

“I missed you too, rainbow-butt.”

Author's Notes:

I am now incapable of reading William's parts in anything aside from Sideshow Bob's voice.