League of Bronies 2 year anniversary!

Two years ago I posted my story League of Bronies. I can't believe I've been working on it that long. Anyway to commemorate this occasion I wrote a lil something. Hopefully it won't hurt your eyes.

"And I'm finally done!" I said proudly.

I looked around myself excitedly. I was still in my living room. There was still a desk set aside for a computer. There was still a television set to the left of me. I was still sitting on a couch. And I was still typing on my laptop.

"I don't know what I expected. It is not like dad or mom care about it. It sucks anyway," I said disgustedly.

I sighed as I looked back to my laptop. I examined what I had just typed. After scanning through it I lean back on the couch.

"What am I thinking?!" I muttered. "This is crazy."

I sighed as I placed a hoof on my head. Why am I even thinking about this?!

As if by unseen force my eyes wandered back to the screen of my laptop. I saw what I just typed. The first chapter of a story.

"You don't remember? That is a damn shame," another voice said.

I looked up to find a strange man in my home. He wore a greyish brown coat. In it were lines of dark blue. It matched his hair. His eyes were a lightish purple.He wore some brown pants.

My jaw dropped at the sight. What?! How could he be here?!

He smiled looking at me. "I'll remind you."

I felt a shiver go throughout my body. I shook my head. My head must not be on straight. Yeah that must be it.

The man dropped his right hand on my coffee table. The sound echoed throughout my house.

"Hey! Don't do that! You'll wake up my dad!" I hissed at the bizarre man.

He smirked. "You wanted to give back."

"Give back? What the hell do you mean?" I asked my eyebrow twitching.

"To the My Little Human community," he clarified. "You felt you should add to it."

"That is dumb," I commented looking away.

"Music, drawings, videos, and stories you admire emerged from this community, Writing Block. You admired them for a time. You even considered it now and again. You would deny it and move on. Still there was the want. That need to give back. To give people that same feeling. Isn't that why?"

I lifted my head to see the man. He stood before me smiling. A tear ran down my cheek.

"I don't deserve the choice. It is utter garbage and it deserves to never see the light of day. What I want doesn't matter. The story is still bad and deserves to die," I said grabbing my laptop. I moved my mouse to the delete option near my story.

I readied myself to click the button. Before I could push it a hand grabbed my hoof. I looked up to see the human staring at me.

He was no longer grinning. He gritted his teeth. He was angry.

"let me go," I sobbed. "I want to delete it."

"Bullshit," the man said. "You don't want that."

"How would you know?" I sniffed. "How would you know how I feel?"

"Your past stories," he said. "You loved to write didn't you?"

I hung my head. What stories? The ones that were so bad I forgot them.

"Shut up!" he said picking me up by my neck. "You love those stories. Even if you deny it we both know that is bullshit!"

I opened my eyes. I looked deep into this man's eyes.

"They all deserve to be forgotten!" I choked out. He dropped me.

"So they deserve to be forgotten huh?" he said walking back. He turned back to me, "Then why do you remember them?!"

I shivered at what he said. I looked at my television screen. I didn't want to look at the man.

"You still care about them," he said angrily.

"They mean nothing to me."

"Even the story inspired by that film you saw when you were younger. The one about that dog and fox?" he asked not believing me.

"All I did was make it a rabbit and dog. Then I just added fighting. It completely missed the point of the movie. It lacked any emotion. It was trash," I muttered.

"Even so it made you so happy. You were so proud you got your mom to read it. You nearly jumped for joy hearing she liked it," he reminded me.

"A parent is meant to be proud of their kids. That compliment meant nothing."

He sighed. "Then what about the story of the three monkeys?"

"The characters were based on me and my brothers. I knew it was bad so I spared anyone from seeing it."

"So you decided to delete it," he finished sadly. "You were afraid of your own family's criticisms."

I looked back at the man. He looked down on me. As if he was better. I grunted at his stare.

"What about the story of the cowboy walking into town? Does that mean nothing to you too?" he asked sadly.

"Yes. It does," I answered flatly. "How long are you going to stay here and fight me on this?"

The man looked at me. "After I remind you of the last reason why you're considering posting this."

I stared at the man. My blood boiled at the mere thought of his presence. Why can't he just leave me alone?! It is not a big deal.

"The twenty pages. Did those mean nothing to you?"

I shot up. I panted heavily. "I spent weeks writing those pages. I even got to the point I carried a notebook around in case inspiration hit me. Of course it means something to me!" I fell back down. "After I lost a few pages I didn't know what to do."

"You lost your morale. You didn't want to continue only to lose more because of your disorganization," he reminded me. "You decided it wasn't worth it to finish the story. Or start any other story."

"Because in the end i'd just lose it," I sniffed. "So what would be the point in me starting a new one?"

I stared at the man. "Tell me why I should!" I demanded.

Tears dropped from the man's eyes. "Because you love it. Because you want entertain people with stories you tell. And you want to add to a community that has inspired you. Because you want to entertain people. Even if it is one person you know you'll be happy with that. Because the idea of new possibilities interests you. What if you were a monkey? What if you were born in the nineteenth century? Because you want to create a hero. Cowboys, superheroes, cops, and firefighters. At one time or another they were all your heroes. They made you want to be more than what you are. You want to spread that feeling. Even if you fail at least you can be content you tried. Because despite all the effort you put into your stories you still never put one thing in all of them."

"An ending," I muttered.

"This is another chance," he smiled at me. "Another chance to see a story to its conclusion. Doesn't it excite you? To be able to finish a story. To make all your effort mean something!"

"But," I stammered. "What about the critics?"

"What about them?" the man asked raising a brow. "Are you going to let them stop you from achieving your goal?"

I squirmed a little. I don't know.

"You already know the answer," he said kneeling down so his eyes met mine. "You don't want to write. You have to write. Don't deny your feelings for the benefit of others."

I raised my hoof onto my laptop. I moved it over the publish button.

"What if no pony likes it?" I asked.

"What if somepony does?: he retorted. "Do you want to deny that pony some entertainment?"

I closed my eyes. I placed my hoof on my head. I chuckled at that.

My eyes trailed back to the laptop. I dragged the cursor over the publish button.

I pushed the button. I raised my face to tell him the news.

He was gone. There was not a trace of him left.

"Thank you," I said laying down on my couch. My eyes grew heavy and I yawned. "Shaun Bass. Thank you."

Thank you everyone for reading. Be on the look out for some new chapters coming soon.