Lowering the rifle back down to point at the dirt, I lifted a hand and rubbed my eyes before bringing it back up, snugging my cheek into the stock, eye focused through the scope. No, I had not been mistaken, I was not seeing things. Right down there strode a tall bright red pony, on its flank sitting what appeared to be a green apple, and he was pulling a plow through a muddy field.

Once more lowering the rifle, taking a quick glance to ensure I am still well back in the brush, sitting back and stretching my legs some. How is this possible? How is it that I am staring right at a pony? Hell, not just any pony, but one from a magical cartoon of talking technicolor horses. That down there, is Big Macintosh!

This just can’t be. It can’t be real! I had to be dreaming or something. A quick glance at the watch on my left wrist said it was close to one in the afternoon. I glanced back up at the sun, then back at my surroundings to make sure nothing and nopony had sneaked up on me when I was looking away.

Once more lifting the rifle up to watch through the scope, my mouth went dry as the Sahara when a little off yellow filly with a bow in her mane trotted into view. A tri-color shield on her flank told me a bit more about her.

“Apple Bloom,” I muttered very quietly, more to myself than anything else. “She has her cutie mark, assuming I still have not gone insane. That tells me about what time period this is...”

Again, I backed off, creeping low back into the forest tell I was sure I was out of view before standing up to my full height, all five foot ten of it. Slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I worked a bit deeper into the woods, backtracking along the same path I followed here. I had to get back to the cabin, I needed to think, to figure out just what the hell was going on.

---

I had made sure nothing was following me, or tracking me. If this really was what I thought, if I really was in Equestria and not sky high on drugs, then the woods I strode through had to be the Everfree Forest.

This meant predators of all kinds, plants that can kill, and who knows what else. Looking around at the cabin and the large almost-thirty-yard area around it devoid of anything. No trees, no plants, no grass, just bare rock and dirt.

The oddest of all, as I had found out when I first started to look around, the clear area took the shape of a perfect circle almost like some god had taken a massive biscuit cutter to carve out the area.

I walked in through the door, closing it behind me before laying the rifle on the bed. It wasn’t much, thirty-by-twenty, an indoor bathroom through one door, fed by a pressure tank that drew from a nearby well. A few lights, a bed, a old sofa, the kitchen. That was quite literally it.

Oh, sure, it had a few solar panels on the roof, and I installed a couple of LED lights as well as a few batteries to store power. However, that was about as far into modern as it got. For the most part, this old cabin was just what someone might have lived in back in old, old times.

As I slid my pack off, I begun to talk to myself again. “Well, Shane, what the fuck have you got yourself into?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at my hands now, I needed to talk this out, even if it was just with myself.

“I went to sleep last night, nothing strange in that. Woke up this morning to find the well gone, all the fences gone. Now, if I am not insane, I have found I might just be in a fictional world of a damn television show I last watched almost ten years ago.”

I glanced over at the desk, getting up and walking over to it. There lay the only two real so-called modern tech I owned anymore: a cellphone and a tablet. Picking the tablet up, I opened up the little SD card slot on the side and slid out the one in it.

Opening the desk drawer up, I pulled out a small pelican case. Opening that up to view the twenty two cards in it, I pulled the one out that was empty and put the tiny black card in. Clicking it back in place, I plucked out one marked ‘TV Shows’ and closed it all back up. Sliding card into the slot and walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed. A few taps, a few slides of the finger, and an old show, one from my younger days started.

“Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria…”

---

I guess I must have zoned out for a bit. Five episodes played while I kind of let my brain catch up to the show, and still pondered what the hell was going on. Turning the tablet off once more and walking back over to the desk. The sun and my watch told me it was near five, getting close to dark. I clicked the charger back in, pausing only to wonder if the sun on this world could even run the solar panels. If not then I had four, perhaps five days worth of batteries, and then it would be all gone.

Time to fix dinner, but it wouldn’t do to have a fire going. The smoke would give away my position, and the smells might attract predators. I was pretty sure I could deal with the more mundane things, but, if this really was Equestria, I am not quite sure a .45 Long Colt would halt a timberwolf, or anything bigger.

Hell, I don’t even know if the gun will fire here. For all I knew, physics could be totally different here. Evidently not if my feet remained on the ground.

Tonight's 'gourmet meal' came in the form of a good ol' U.S. made MRE. Plucking one of the tan pouches out of the box in the closet, I glanced at it flatly. “Oh joy, beef stew.”

I shook my head, but headed to the counter and started to prep it. Thinking as I worked, I figured I had at least three months worth of food, four if I dug into the emergency stuff, much like the MRE I am having tonight. The first thing will be to find out if food here is poisonous to me or not. Water, I was okay for now, a good hundred-gallons in the tank, plus another fifty in a barrel for cooking and drinking. That would at least take me a month if I was careful with it. Finding more will be high priority.

Next on the list, do I even attempt to make contact? What if someone finds the cabin? I thought on that as I waited for the meal to heat up in the pouch, pausing for a moment before it hit me like a sledgehammer.

“Shit, there is a zebra that lives around here. Crap, what was her name? Zee something.”

Pulling out the pouch from the heating bag, I dumped the water out to let it dry out so I may use it again. Opening up the bag of stew and grabbing the spork, I started to mix it around. I settled on the question, would they be able to understand me? Would the languages be the same or, what the hell am I even thinking?

It just crashed down on me right there, as I sat with a heavy thud into the chair at the desk. I was lost. I was not in the United States, and I sure as hell was not on Earth anymore. What the hell would I do, how would I get home?

For the first time in a long time, I felt the sting of tears welling up. Frustrated, angry, confused, all of it like hitting head first into a brick wall. The pouch of stew now lay forgotten, resting on a bowl to keep it from spilling. I had myself a good old fashioned breakdown.

---

It was dark when I finally did wake up, and with a glance down at my watch, reading three in the morning, assuming time is the same here. I felt like absolute garbage. The stress, the crying, hell, might as well face it, I had a full-on breakdown. Lucky for me, the moon was up, and bright as could be.

Moving up from the bed, I had to chuckle a bit. I never even bothered to kick my old boots off. I got myself a glass of water and looked out at the almost desolate clearing around the cabin from the window. Nothing moved out there. Was that because of the cabin, my smell in the area, or something else?

Sitting down at the desk still in the dark, it was time to make a plan. I knew the names of all the big players—well, most of them anyways. I had a fair idea of where I was, going by what I observed yesterday.

The big question now was, do I risk contact, or do I stay hunkered down here? Tugging out an old notebook and a pen, and by the light of the moon I started to jot down a list of names and reactions I conceived they might have, both good and bad. I figured if the good list was longer than the bad list, it might be worth it to try.

Celestia was almost a known reaction. She would likely want to learn all she could, however, she would do what was best for her subjects, far over my needs and desires. Luna, much the same, but she had a temper, it would be best to watch it around her. Cadence was all heart, as long as I didn’t try to hurt anyone she would be most likely to offer a hand so to speak. Twilight Sparkle…

I had to pause at that one, thinking of the bookish Princess of Friendship. Yes, she would want to learn about me, almost be eager to, the problem was, she might want to lock me up to study me.

Next on the list, the remainder of her friends. Of them, really the only one I had any concern about was Rainbow Dash. She was quick to conclusions that were not always fact. I knew the others—at least from what I knew about the show—kept her temper in check.

Pinkie Pie was one I simply added a frown next to. I didn’t have any sort of distaste for her, yet I never seem to do so well around the more-energetic, hyper people. I suspected the same held with ponies, too.

Discord...

Again, I paused looking at the name on the paper. In truth, he was unknown. I couldn’t be sure what his reaction would be. Hell, for all I knew, he might responsible for all of this!

As I worked it out, the sun steadily rose. I glanced out the windows, making note of nothing new occurring. It was time to wash up and get moving. I had made up my mind. I would try to drop a note at the zebra’s place, assuming I can even find it. If luck took my side, they would be able to read it, and we could go from there.

A quick wipe-down ‘bath’ with baby wipes, throwing them into the composting can after I got dressed again. An old pair of forest camo hunting BDU’s, matching shirt, boonie hat, and a small pack. Next, I kicked carpet aside and pried up the floor hatch. Opening up the safe hidden there, I slid the old scoped .270 into the safe, leaving it loaded.

Tugging out a well-loved and used Ruger Mark II, I grabbed up two magazines for it. The little .22 didn’t have much power but it would be plenty. Screwing a suppressor onto the end, I racked the slide and tucked it into a holster on my right thigh.

Next out was Old Faithful, a Mossberg 500 Mariner. I grabbed up six rounds and loaded it, then tucked six more into the shell holder on the side. Worthless for bird hunting, although today, birds were the least of my concern.

I glanced down in the safe, four other guns lay in it. My trusty well used 10/22, the .270 Model 700, an 1873 Winchester chambered in .45LC, and last but not least, a very well-loved, old and used coach gun. All holdovers from my younger days, all had helped me stay fed and safe. I did worry just slightly about being in this land, would they even work?

Locking things back up and hiding the trap door once more. I paused long enough to tug a bit of fabric from the closet. Old, well, hell, what did I own that wasn’t old? BDU-pattern cloth tape, that's what. I wrapped it around the shotgun to hide the luster of the stainless steel.

Once done, I spent some time writing a note as neatly as possible, hoping somehow magic could be used to decode the language if they couldn’t already read it.
Stepping out the door, locking it behind me. It was time to see if I could track down someone's house and leave a note without being caught.

Author's Notes:

A story I have had kicking around in my head for over a year now.