Ashes ~ Think Optimistically
Garret Hunter Anderson PoV:
There are no words to explain the confusion that comes with warping inter-dimensionally. So, as I write this to you, I can explain as best I can. Imagine, if you will, a cauldron or tub or some other person-sized container. Now fill it with honey.
And set it on fire.
It's like watching the world go by in a blur, then suddenly all you feel is pain. You can't move, can't speak, nor hear.
But, that was yesterday. We need to start at the beginning, just like every good story.
And, for your sake, I'll do this how you, whomever can see this, would see it.
3rd-Limited PoV:
Garret pulled the hair from his eyes, not that it reached so far as to block his vision. "So, math?"
His voice was that of a plane far overhead, barely heard and yet everybody could tell it from a crowd of sounds.
"No," his only friend capable of talking, with everyone else attempting to fill their mouths with school-food. "We finished math. We need our Bio 1 done."
He shook his head. "I don't do science. No deal." He laughed to himself.
The cafeteria around him was filled with so many vibrant conversations, so many stories. He listened to them all. Not all at once, but within a few days' time he knew anything he would need to know about the school's politics. Drama.
With walls the color of milk and tables that had the shade of fresh mud, there wasn't much else to bide his time with, though.
Did you hear, someone spoke, just enough to cut through the barrier of sound, they're cutting Physics for Astronomy.
Astronomy, like stars and shit?
Stars, man. Constellations. All that.
No way! Physics is definitely more applicable than Astronomy.
Garret took neither, nor would he. He had few obsessions, but among them were music, reading, metallurgy, and quotes.
But top on his list of things to enjoy and focus his time on would be ponies. No, not real ones. Technicolor ponies that don't exist.
But really, nothing doesn't exist. Does love exist, just because we all agree it does? Perhaps the conceptualization of an idea is exactly what it takes for reality to set in. Perhaps you can't touch it. Perhaps it exists because your mind says it must.
That was his view on whether My Little Pony was truly a waste of time. Surely no talking horses would exist on Earth, but the human mind is wonderful, and with it he would gain what he needed.
Happiness, sure. Friends, sure. But what it gave him more than anything was a sense of self-worth. Something to look forward to, to guide his day. Why it did this was a mystery to him, or even why it was chosen instead of any other possible hobby.
But fate is funny, isn't it?
His day continued in a lethargic blur of smiling faces and monotonous teachers. As the final bell sounded, he took off. He dropped what little things he carried in his hollow locker, and left it hungry, still. The bus rumbled and groaned his trek home, finally dropping him close enough to walk.
He opened and closed the door to his bland, two-story home and immediately yelled. "Home! Alive! Going to my room!"
His mother, somewhere else, replied in the same short tongue. "Kitchen. Macaroni. 'Kay."
