"A Human!"

Wow. I must say, I'm beginning to feel a little insulted. The way that "Twifi Knuckle" said human, it sounded like she was scraping excrement from her feet. This did cause me some confusion and as I listened to the conversation between Knuckle and "Flufferguy," I got the sense my landing (for lack of a better word) was not as graceful as I thought. According to Fluffer, I was pulled out of the "Evertweaked" Forest with a tangle of other body parts. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who made this trip. Albeit, I was the only one to made it mostly intact. To hear Fluffer say it, it took several people to pull away all the dismembered limbs that were pinned down beneath me. Some nurse from a nearby hospital was called on to help patch me up as the torn appendages were removed. Twifi wasn't there for that operation; she was called into "Pokeyville" for some emergency or whatnot.

The first pervasive theory was about me was that I was some sort of diamond dog mutation. (What on God's green Earth is a diamond dog?) Or maybe even an offshoot of the Minotaurs. Twifi then comes in with some ancient text, "pre unification" I heard her describe it, that has a rather loose description of the human form. I didn't understand what they meant by that until Flufferguy made mention of how torn up and bloody my face was. Given her description, I was sure she thought I was some abomination from the pit. It wasn't until the blood was washed off that she saw my face. That was why they thought I resembled a Minotaur, but even that was not totally accurate. Along the way, I heard some other names that made little sense to me: Punkie Pipe, Applesmack, Scarcity, and Danish Slash. Not really sure if those are real names or not; that's just what I heard and I could be mistaken. Somewhere during the conversation, Morpheus calls to me and try though I might, I can't fight his summons…

Oh, God, why does morning have to be so EARLY? I feel a beam of sunlight striking my face and I'm sure morning has come. I open a lid, just a crack, and see a brilliant sun bursting from an open window. If my back weren't so tweaked, I'd turn away from the light, but as it stands, I'm immobile and at the mercy of the Daystar. Lucky me.

So, instead denying the daylight, I open my eyes, slowly, and left my mind ponder some of the facts I have garnered. For one: humans seem to be rather rare around here. Two: the prevalent species around are talking ponies. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that. Three: My species is something to be feared or something to be studied. Twifi's tone when she spoke of me suggests that humans were once rather common but have somehow fallen out of the limelight. Four: most information regarding mankind has been lost to time and tide. Twifi said as much. Her beloved library had only a book of fairy tales concerning humans. Not the most flattering stories I've heard but not as bad as they could have been.

But now, I have new set of concerns. I was the only one found from the plane. I highly doubt there were any survivors, but there should be some wreckage. Some of the plane must have landed in that forest. A vehicle as large as a 747 should create quite a debris field. Yet, I've heard no mention of any of this. If my estimation of the Evertweak is correct, there should be three or more miles of debris from Flight 616. So far, nada. Which begs the questions, where is here and how did I end up here?

It's mid afternoon now. Sunlight pours in from every window now and I can see everything my limited vantage point can offer. I seem to be in some shack or cottage. Everything is made of wood; no concrete, no tile, not a smidgen of any man-made material can be seen. Also, there are animals here. I don't mean outside, I mean as in lingering inside the building. I've seen ferrets running around a table, a white rabbit hopping from one end of the room to another, birds gliding into and out of perches placed strategically along the ceiling. Whoever lives here would give PETA members a massive coronary.

This place is a regular wildlife sanctuary! There were mice running alongside the baseboards ten minutes ago and pretty sure there was a bear lumbering about outside. Without my glasses, all I can see is blurs of color, but that was a pretty big fucking brown blur that passed by! Wait… is the yellow thing TALKING to the brown thing? As in, carrying on a conversation with it? And it can fucking understand everything the bear (gotta be a bear, all those growls and roars could be nothing short of ursine, unless this world has Wookies) says?! To quote Alice Pleasance: "Curiouser and curiouser…"

I'm thirsty. Oh, boy am I thirsty! Given my traumatic arrival and the amount of blood I've seemed to have lost, it confounds me that I haven't noticed this earlier. It's also a surprise I haven't succumbed to shock. Just how long was I out of it? It was day when I "landed." A night has passed and then this morning… I wish there was someone to tell me these things. Why did I not put on my watch yesterday…?

Okay, the yellow thing has just walked in the door. (I can see vague shapes of trees and a fence, so it must be a door, though to the front or back of the house, I'm unsure.) It's walks (trots, canters?) over to me. As it gets close, I can see clear details. It's definitely a pony of some kind, though I've never seen a pony with such large and expressive eyes before.

And what eyes, too. They are the most brilliant shade of cyan I've ever seen. They rival Zooey Deschanel's pale blue ones. Also, what I've mistaken for pink is actually a pale rose; it's coat is a pale gold color. As I drink in more detail, I see a brand on its flanks: three butterflies. I wonder which ranch it comes from…? Wait, why does this one have wings?

"Oh, are we awake?" the golden pony says.

I shit you not, the lips moved without any artifice. Like unto Pinocchio, there are no strings on this filly, no sir! I can feel a Blazing Saddles joke coming on… Yet, I don't think I can speak right now; my thirst has given me a bad case of cottonmouth. Instead, I just nod. No use pretending to be deaf and dumb. I'm stuck here, in this- sanctuary, while I convalesce.

"I see," says the pony I identify as Flufferguy, "a-are you thirsty?"

Again, I nod.

"Okay, I'll get you some water. Wait here…"

Like I can go anywhere else. I watch as the Fluffer leaves the room, quickly becoming a yellow glob again… Is she floating?! Good God, this is some good shit I'm on! Did I get hooked up to some Demerol? Or is this Oxycodone? Whatever it is, I'm tripping MAJOR ball-sack. I have got to get me a prescription for this!

Oh, here's comes my hostess, again. Yup, she's floating. I hear wing beats and I see that those tiny little wings are keeping her aloft. That voice from earlier, that one telling me I'm getting pranked, is now expressing deep disbelief and skepticism. I can see why; given her size and obvious weight, Flufferguy's would need wings ten times as large as the one she has now to keep afloat. This does not compute. Neither does her ability to manipulate objects with her hooves. I can see a glass of water between her fore hooves. I don't even want to know how she does that without fingers…

Fluffer sets down the glass on the coffee table next to me. Now she's floating behind me, getting a foreleg underneath both of my mangled arms.

"I'm going to lift you up so can drink," she says. It's a little hard to tell if that was what I heard; her voice is barely above a whisper. "If's that okay with you… I-if you would like me to…"

So polite and considerate, this one! I wonder if my Southern Manners would work here? I'll try that out later. I nod and the little Pegasus (pony body, feathered wings, that as close as I can figure a Pegasus to be) gently pulls my torso onto a sofa arm. She's surprisingly strong, to be able to lift my weight. I am not some Abercrombie & Finch model; I weigh nearly 300 pounds. (Although, with the loss of one calf, I may now weigh a little less.) Still, the little Pegasus gets my shoulders parallel to the sofa's arm. My field of vision now allows me to see a bit more, including a pile of objects, still a bit fuzzy, that could help me out tremendously.

"Drink slow now," Flufferguy says patiently and I am doing so.

Sip by sip, I am draining the glass. The water is clear, cool, and refreshing. It's the best water I've tasted in years. Now, scratch that, it's the best I've ever had! There's no antiseptic filtering going here, no pollutants floating around in the liquid, no rusty taste to it all, just pure water. I may have a sweet tooth the size of Texas, but I can drink gallon after gallon of this stuff!

"Easy now," coos Fluffer, "you don't wanna choke."

No, I do not.

"There now, isn't that better?"

I nod, "Glasses?"

Wow, when did I get so raspy? Did I suck up some jet fuel during the explosion? Or is the rasp in my tenor the result of smoke inhalation? Or am I still weak after the accident?

Fluffer stammers, "G-glasses?"

I nod, "Glasses, w-where are m-my glasses?"

Fluffer looks at me strangely. I'm pretty sure she knows I can speak, but the look in her eyes tells me she is less surprised than incredulous. She's also a little frustrated. Was it because of my playing dumb act with Twifi…?

"So you can talk!"

"Yes… hurts like Hell… R-razor blades on… ch-ch-chalkboard…" I shit you not, I sound like Joan Rivers. Well, a male Joan Rivers.

"Shh, it's going to be okay. Don't strain yourself."

I nod; I'm weak enough as is and adding insult to injury is just not what I need right now.

"There were some things from where we found you. I wonder if maybe…"

I see Fluffer going to the pile of I saw earlier. She grasps several items from the top and flies back to me.

"Let's see… These?"

Nope, these aren't the spectacles I'm looking for. Too- fashionable.

"Oh, I see. What about these?"

No, not these, either.

"How about these?"

Good Lord, however wore these was blinder than I am! Still, no. Horn rims ain't my style.

"These?"

Wait, wait… Ah, yeah, now we're talking! Rimless, midnight blue tinted and details out the ass! These are my glasses! They're cracked, though. They must have taken a nasty tumble when I landed.

"Y-yup!" I'm nodding so hard, I feel like a bobble head doll.

"Woo-hoo!"

That- was the cutest little cheer I've ever heard! And now that I can see well again, this Flufferguy is kinda cute, too. Well, for some pastel colored hallucination, I mean.

I croak out, "Thanks, Flufferguy."

What, did I say something funny? Why is Fluffer giving me that confused look?

"Who's Flufferguy?"

I nod in her general direction.

"You think…" I can see a blush form on her cheeks (horses have cheeks, right?) then she lands next to me.

"I'm Fluttershy."

I can just scarcely hear her, but I know she put a big emphasis on that last word. Was I getting her name wrong all along?

"F-flutter- shy?" God, it's sandpiper is lining my throat.

She nods, "Uh-huh."

"T-thanks, Fl-flutter- shy!" Okay, that was a slight bit better.

Wouldn't you know, her smile is heartstrings-pulling adorable. I think I may like it here… If it weren't some trauma induced fantasy.

-Insert self important writer's blurb here.- If you're having trouble seeing Fluttershy's dialog, try switching over to Helvetica. It makes her text big enough to read whilst remaining small.