Wind rushed past my face. Clouds soared around me. I could feel the rubber squeeze of the goggles strapped to my face as the world turned to a blur. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and I felt giddy. Excited. I turned into a nosedive, my face breaking right through a cloud. I pulled up and soared parallel to the ground, my cape flapping behind me. My skin-tight rubber suit clenched my everything as I barreled straight through a row of trees, probably pissing off a local farmer. I was invincible. I was—

My nose felt itchy. There was a tiny squeaking noise coming from it.

I opened my eyes.

“Hello? M-Mister Giant? I need some help.”

There was a little white thing atop my nose, my face the only part of my body not covered by bedsheets. It had a swath of purple atop its head and another trailing from its rump. The purple seemed to be very well-groomed. Tiny, sapphire eyes stared into each of mine, alternating between them. A horn jutted from the thing’s head, but no wings flanked it.

It was dead silent in my room. I liked silence; it helped me sleep. It’s why I installed expensive sound-proof windows into my little two-bedroom flat. The only things I could hear were the omnipresent ringing in my ears and my own heartbeat.

In the silence, I could almost make out what the alien was saying to me.

“Do you have a place I could... clean myself? I, um, I fell into some dreadful filth, and there isn’t really anyplace to clean it off...”

I... I could. In the complete absence of the hum of a ceiling fan motor, the vrooming of cars outside, and the whooshing of my air conditioning unit, the creature’s squeaking was able to achieve unprecedented clarity in my ears. It was still quiet, and still high-pitched, but I could make out consonants and vowels if I focused and looked very carefully at her mouth.

“I... I can understand you...” I said as softly as I could. Yet, compared to the creature’s squeaks, my whispering was like a lion’s roar.

There was a little gasp. “So you’ll help me?”

I glanced at my clock. 3:32 A.M. I looked back at the creature. It seemed to be a female. Her little blue eyes looked apologetic. The gears in my head hissed and creaked and groaned in protest as they were forced to work outside their regular hours. I could... maybe put her in the sink. But she might drown, unless she could swim. And was my soap even safe for her to use?

My hand emerged from my bedsheets, gently plucking the alien from my nose. They really seemed to like my nose.

“Aaaah!!” the alien squeaked in fright. I could feel her little muscles shifting and her voice vibrating as her limbs flailed. Her movements reminded me oddly of a horse. “No! No! Please don’t crush me! I’m sorry! I’m sohohoreeeyy!!” she cried.

“M’not gonna hurt’cha...” I whispered, swinging myself out of bed with a sudden burst of energy that was more fraudulent than Dexter Corp’s special purpose entities. I immediately wanted to fall back into it. “I’m gonna take you to my bathroom. There’s a sink in there with some hand soap that you can use.” I began to walk to the bathroom, holding the alien between my thumb and index finger.

She was shivering. “Please don’t drop me,” she said. I decided to cup her between both of my hands. She seemed a little less terrified after that.

I entered my bathroom, flicking on the light and placing the little one on the shiny porcelain countertop next to the sink. “What’s your name?” I asked, smiling a tired smile.

“R... Rarity.” She smiled. “And you are?”

“Brian,” I said. I held the tip of my index finger out to her. “Nice to meet you.” She bumped it with a little hoof. I then proceeded to turn both handles of the sink a small amount, allowing a small stream of comfortably warm water to trickle forth. I grabbed the soap dispenser and deposited a drop near, but not on, the drain. It was one of those solid-flat-top drains that popped up to allow water in at the sides; I could seal the drain if I pulled a knob.

I gently coaxed Rarity toward it. “Get in. It’s like a shower.”

She looked up at me with her big blue eyes. I couldn’t make out what she said next over the trickling of the water. It just sounded like squeaking.

I smiled at her. “You’ll be fine, Rarity. I’m... sure the soap isn’t toxic to you or anything.”

Those big blue eyes of hers got bigger. She squeaked again, her little ears folding.

“You’ll be fine,” I repeated in a whisper.

She gulped, turned and trotted to the lip of the sink, peering down it. I frowned; it must have been a steep drop for her. I picked her up again, placing her next to the drain — which, again, did not have openings large enough for her to fall through.

She leaned down and sniffed at the drop of soap. Then, she walked atop the drain cover, dousing herself so her hair hung limp instead of coiffed. She stepped away, scooping up a hoofful of soap, and begun to lather. She squeaked when it, to her, quickly exploded and covered her in a pile of suds. I couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.

She spent a few minutes cleaning herself. I watched, just in case. And then she started to sing. It sounded a bit like a music box, the tones of her voice gentle and ringing, like teeny-tiny bells.

She eventually stepped away from the stream, squeaking up at me. I picked her up, putting her on a small towel. She rolled around for a bit to dry herself off, and I shut off the water.

“Thank you, darling,” she said. “Could you take me back to your basement? It’s a long walk.”

I held out a palm, and she eagerly hopped onto it. She was still damp. I turned off the light and made my way to my basement, turning on lights as I went and always watching my feet. Soon enough I was at the doorway — the light was still on, but the aliens all seemed to be trying to sleep near walls, objects, and inside cupboards. I could see a few walking around, their gaits sluggish and off-balance. I could see that many were covering their eyes and pretending that it was dark.

I felt kinda bad for leaving the light on, but knew that they needed it to be able to see. I set Rarity down near some sleeping aliens, and she smiled at me in thanks before beginning a trek to somewhere else in the room.

I glanced at the light switch one last time. I remembered the tiny lights the aliens could create with their bioluminescence, and decided to flick the lights off, casting the room into darkness. There were a few squeaks, but most seemed to appreciate it. A few of those tiny lights flickered to life.

I went back to bed. I would turn the basement light on again when morning came around.

---

The best part about waking up on a Saturday is going back to bed. Today, the gentle hiss of the rain, the distant rumbling of thunder, and the clouds dimming the sunlight was perfect for sleeping in. Although, I did get up briefly to turn on my basement light. I could see some of the little aliens get up, stretching and yawning, while some others just grumbled and covered their eyes. I swiveled around, my lips curling into a calm smile as I heard my bed calling to me.

I fell into it with a whoomph, face-down in my pillow. There I snoozed for two more hours before I heard squeaking in my right ear. I lifted my head up, turning to give an unamused expression to whichever alien wanted my attention now.

It was Twilight, standing on my other pillow. She... looked upset. She was frowning heavily, her ears folded as her body fidgeted. She squeaked and squeaked, her body language reminding me of a child trying to explain to her parents that she didn’t want to go to school tomorrow because she’s being bullied there.

I swallowed. “Twilight, use your projection magic thingy.”

She sat down, her sad eyes growing even larger. She tightened her chest and squeaked louder, squeezing her little eyes shut.

I decided to mentally clean the cobwebs out of my brain, and focused really hard on her mouth and the next words she spoke.

“I’m out of Mana! I can’t do anything any more!!” she squealed, tears dripping off her little jaw. They must’ve not been water; the droplets would’ve been huge compared to her face. “I can’t cast light spells, o-or levitation, or anything! P-Pinkie Pie hasn’t figured out how to convert the electricity from the wall thingies into Mana yet! I... I’m not sure if she ever will!”

The poor thing was crying... I frowned, sitting up and gently stroking the top of her head with a fingertip as she sat and trembled, her face in her hooves. “Look,” I said softly. “I don’t know anything about your ‘Mana,’ but you’re smart, right? Rainbow Dash told me that you were smart.” I gave her a little smile to lift her spirits. “You can do this.”

Her wet little eyes widened. “Wait, you can understand me?”

I shrugged and nodded. “I guess I figured out how after Rarity asked me for a bath in the middle of the night.”

She looked relieved. Not completely, but her figure relaxed a bit... until she frowned and hugged my finger. I could feel her shaking. “I don’t know what to do...”

I took a breath, just about blowing her over on the exhale. Whoops. I should be more careful, there. “Can I help?”

She looked up at me. “Do you know how to convert electricity to Mana?”

I shook my head. “No, but I know a bit about electricity, so maybe I can help.” I gave her another smile. She smiled slightly, rubbing her face on my finger affectionately. I tried to take my finger back, but she squeaked something that I didn’t quite catch when I tried to move it. Chewing on my lip, I took it back anyway. Twilight held on until her grip slipped and she fell backwards onto the pillow with a little pat. She scrambled back up, her mouth quivering and her eyes growing large again. She squeaked loudly at me, blubbering something, but I was unable to discern what she said.

She started crying again. It was the saddest sound I’d ever heard. Something that small shouldn’t have to feel such sorrow. I idly wondered how old she was; she said she was a “princess,” which likely meant that there was a “queen” above her, and that Twilight might be quite young. I picked her up, letting her sit on my palm, and gently pet her with a curled finger. She turned around and hugged it with her forelegs and wings, weeping.

I didn’t really blame her, not after she said something about levitation. That explained how she was able to write on that little notepad without actually touching it. Considering her lack of digits, Twilight losing her, uh, telekinesis would be like me losing both of my hands. I’d be pretty depressed after that — literally everything I do requires my hands. On top of that was the fact that her entire world was gone. She probably had a lot on her plate with no real solution. I could relate.

I gently, gently rubbed her back with a fingertip. These little creatures were insanely soft. It was like touching a flower -- soft, delicate, and fragile.

Ten minutes of comforting Twilight later, she had gotten a hold of herself. Me, Twilight, and two dozen other aliens congregated on/next to the kitchen counter. Two of them looked significantly larger than the others, towering at four inches tall. One was white with long, toothpaste-colored hair, while the other was dark blue with hair that looked a bit like smoke. They both wore regalia that screamed “royalty.” Were they queens? Was one of them Twilight’s mother? I would ask later.

I held up the plug of my toaster. “See this? This is an electrical plug. It goes into an electrical socket.” I plugged it into the wall. “Electricity runs in through this connection.” I took it out again, pointing at it. “It goes in a circuit, kinda. The big, flat prong is where it comes in, the smaller one is where it goes out. The third, circular prong is called a “ground” and prevents damage to a device from power surges caused by lightning strikes.”

KRACKOOM!!

Thank you, conveniently-timed thunder. Also, ow. That lightning strike must have hit something close by, because it was damn loud and made my pots and pans rattle a bit.

Some of the aliens starting squealing and running around on my counter. The sound was heartbreaking. “Hey, hey! It’s okay! It’s just thunder!” I said.

“Then why is it so loud!?” a pink horned one with purple hair and cyan highlights squeaked, covering her ears with her hooves and laying down, her eyes shut tight. “Ow! Ow ow ow ow!”

“It’s because y’all are so small,” I answered.

The pink one perked up and looked at me. “Wait, you can understand us now? Twilight told us that you couldn’t.”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m getting better at it.”

The aliens began to squeak amongst themselves at this new revelation. I couldn’t make out what any of them were saying, but they kept looking at me.

“What’s your name, Mister Giant?” asked a chalk-white winged alien after fluttering up to my face. Her hair reminded me of those watermelon candy straws.

“Brian,” I answered with a smile. “It’s nice to m--”

KRACK-KOW!!

Wow. That one made me flinch. The aliens were back to running around and squealing. The big white alien stood up, belting out an announcement. “My little ponies, calm yourselves! It is but mere weather!” she said, significantly louder than her subjects, but still not ‘loud’ in any sense of the word. Ponies? Is that what they called themselves?

“There’s no way that’s lightning! It sounds like a train wreck!” squeaked Rainbow Dash from atop my toaster.

I shook my head. “Oh no, it’s lighting. Big lightning. I would not recommend going outside right now. That kind of lightning is powerful enough to kill me.”

All of their eyes got really big. Their little ears folded. They started squeaking to each other indiscernibly, then frantically, then hysterically. Ohhh, I had made a terrible mistake...

“Calm! I said, calm yourselves!” yelled the big white one.

“What kind of Tartarus-born lightning can kill a creature like Brian!?” one alien shrieked. “Princess Celestia, do something!”

“Giant! Er, Brian! We are safe from the lightning within this building, yes?” “Princess Celestia” asked, fixating me with a calm purple stare that belied inner panic. Princess? Then, who was the queen? The dark blue one?

“Yes,” I said simply.

That was when the power went out with another huge crash of lightning. The ceiling light that cast a gentle glow over the room and its inhabitants went dark, as did every other light and every electronic device in the house. It was cast into near-complete darkness, only the dim light from the windows providing any sort of illumination.

My ears rung from the sheer amount of squealing, but it died down when a cyan bioluminescence lit up the table. It came from a 3-inch-tall pink alien with a horn and wings. The aliens gathered around her, shivering and squeaking. Another “princess,” I assumed. Seriously, who was the queen? Did she... not make it? Oh.

“What just happened?” squeaked the relatively-large pink one. I had the weirdest feeling that she was related to Twilight. Her mother, maybe?

“A lightning strike just fried a power pylon nearby.” I motioned upward, but the pink alien’s light was not quite bright enough to illuminate me. “All the lights in this house run off electricity and are connected to a big power grid that delivers electricity to the buildings around here. The other buildings have electric lights too. Since that pylon got messed up, the power’s out. No light for us... except for devices powered by batteries.” I smirked, extracting my iPhone from my pocket and turning on its flashlight.

Shing! My light easily overpowered the pink one’s. The aliens squeaked and shielded their eyes. I set my phone face-down on the tabletop so its light, projected from its back, could evenly illuminate the whole room, and me.

“Wait... ‘other houses?’” squeaked the big navy blue alien with smokey hair. “Are there more of your kind, dear Brian?”

“Yeah? I told you guys; me and Fluts went to work with him, and there were lots of other giants,” said Rainbow Dash, her wings buzzing as she fluttered down to the pink one.

Fluttershy said something. I still couldn’t hear her.

Rainbow’s face scrunched up adorably in confusion. “Manly?” she squeaked. “Okay, okay, I won’t call you that.” Her scrunching intensified as Fluttershy said something else to her. “What?” Her face was starting to resemble a blue raisin. She turned to face Twilight. “Twilight!!” she said indignantly.

Twilight, who was examining the toaster plug, turned to look back. “What?” she asked with a downward inflection.

“Fluttershy says she doesn’t like how you call her ‘Fluts’ in your letters to everyone,” squeaked Rainbow Dash. Twilight’s face turned into a purple raisin to match Rainbow’s.

Suddenly, the counter was vibrated intensely by a buzzing noise coming from my phone. Several aliens squeaked in fright, scrambling away from it.

I picked it up and looked at the screen.

Incoming Call From:
Mom

I smiled. I didn’t have friends, but I did have family. I tapped the green icon and held the device up to my ear. “What’s up, Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie!” she chirped over the line. “We’re gonna be a bit late for the family lunch — it’s raining pretty hard out here. Oh, and your nephews are so excited to see you! You’re on speaker, by the way.”

“Hi Uncle Brian!” chorused two familiar, young voices.

“Suhuhup, brah,” said a third cooly, my brother Simon. “Hope all that auditor stuff isn’t gettin’ too uncool, bro. We heard some stuff’s goin’ down with Dexter Corp.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, they’re not cooperating. My team is just about ready to issue a disclaimer report.”

“Daaaaaayum, bro! That’s gonna wreck ‘em!”

I could hear Mom and Simon laughing. “Well, we’ll talk more over lunch. See you in about half an hour!” Mom cooed. “Love you, Sweetie!”

“Love you too. Bye-bye!” And with that, I hung up.

I almost flinched when there was a loud beep from my surge detector and all the lights came back on. I smiled up at the ceiling. “Oh, cool, the power’s back on.”

“Was that yer family? How were ya talkin’ to ‘em just now?” asked a little orange alien with a tiny cowboy hat, who had a foreleg affectionately wrapped around Twilight. Did she have a cowboy accent, too? Ha ha ha! Wow.

I opened my mouth to reply when my breath caught in my throat. Shit. Shit. I had completely forgotten about the planned lunch with my family today. And I didn’t want to explain to them how I had made first contact with a species of teeny-tiny colorful aliens. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell anyone about them, even the government, who would definitely want to know.

I would just put it off until I sorted things out with Dexter Corp, at least.

My mouth closed with a click, and I took a breath through my nose, looking over the little eyes staring up at me from my counter. “Hey, uh, could you all just hide in my basement for a few hours while I eat lunch with my folks? I, um, I’m not sure if I want them to see you.”

Twilight looked betrayed. “What? But... I thought we were friends.” Oh no. She was pulling out the puppy-dog eyes. Or... mouse eyes, I guess. Her ears were folded.

I gave her a look. “I don’t think my nephews will be as understanding, or, more importantly, as gentle with you as I am.”

She seemed to get the hint, not squeaking another word. She and the rest of her present kind departed my countertop, the winged ones giving their groundbound bretheren lifts.

I sucked in a deep breath and bellowed, “IF ANY OF YOU LITTLE CREATURES ARE ANYWHERE IN MY HOUSE, GET BACK IN THE BASEMENT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!!”

The sheer volume of my voice almost knocked a few aliens out of the air, but they managed.

I suddenly heard a high-pitched keening noise coming from somewhere. I looked at the little ones taking flight from my counter, but it didn’t seem to be any of them.

I noticed that a few of the flying ones had perched on the rim of the trashcan next to the kitchen counter, peering down into it and squeaking at one another. As I approached, the noise got a little bit louder. Looking into the filth within, I realized that the noise was tiny screaming.

I reached my hands into the wastebasket, clawing aside fun-sized snack wrappers and styrofoam cups until I found the source of the noise: a mint-green horned alien that abruptly stopped wailing and peered up at me with big, wet eyes when she was uncovered. I frowned; the poor thing must’ve fallen in and gotten stuck. I reached for her, but she released a tiny shriek and scrambled away from my hand as best she could until her back was pressed against a discarded piece of cardboard, hyperventilating. One of her hind legs seemed to drag behind her.

“Calm down; I’m trying to help you,” I said. I reached for her again, and she covered her wet eyes and curled up into a ball, whimpering softly, except for that one leg that refused to move with the rest of her body. Plucking her from the garbage, I placed her onto the counter, where some of the winged aliens joined her.

“Lyra? You okay?” squeaked Rainbow Dash, pawing at the green ball of fur with a little blue hoof.

“My... my leg...” the green one sobbed. “I fell... w-when Brian roared... I was... I lost my balance... It hurts...”

And now I felt like a gigantic asshole. I quickly mulled over my options before realizing that I didn’t have any — my knowledge of first aid did not apply to creatures the size of mice. All the tools I had were too large. “I’m sorry,” I whispered pathetically.

An alien, a “pony” I should say, walked by. She was a little white one and had a red plus sign stamped on her butt. A medic? Yes; she began to examine Lyra with the scrutinizing eye of a trained surgeon. She seemed to extract a splint out of nowhere, strapping Lyra’s busted leg into it... but not before resetting Lyra’s leg with a quiet crack, causing her to start wailing all over again. Poor thing.

Lyra’s tiny yelling dissolved into a tiny coughing fit. I almost couldn’t hear it. The medic pony hefted Lyra over her back and spoke with a relatively-large winged pony, who gave the two a lift.

Within about ten minutes, all of the alien ponies seemed to be out of sight. Good. I did not want them to fall victim to the reckless hands and feet of rambunctious ten-year-olds.

I trekked to my basement, peeking within. Hundreds of little eyes regarded me. I smiled at them. “My folks will only be here for a couple hours. I’m going to leave the door cracked, but don’t go anywhere, okay?”

A few of the tiny faces nodded and squeaked in understanding.

I left, taking a deep breath. I typed, printed, and taped a piece of paper reading “DO NOT ENTER” on my basement door before preparing to confront the prepubescent terrors.

Author's Notes:

This is the end of the prewritten content. I hope you guys enjoyed! I spent an hour and a half wrestling with the awful Gdoc import system, and for this chapter I said "screw it" and formatted it myself instead of fixing the importer's mistakes. It took about the same amount of time but it was far less frustrating.

More content will come soon, but not immediately. See you next time! :)