“Can a single book really hold every story?”
Fizzy mumbles to herself in the back storage room of the Ponyville Flower Shop as she places pages, one at a time, back into her notebook. The flower ponies didn't know that this was where she hid out every night, but it was likely better this way. If any of the forces of Chaos found her friends… or worse… a Villain…
“Don’t think about that,” she whispers to herself.
She shakes her head as she places another page into the binding. Her notebook of found pages from the Book of All Stories glows with a gentle golden aura as the page is accepted into the fold, merging into the book. The jumbled words on each page rearrange themselves as if they had a life of their own, stringing together a story about a Yak growing hundreds of feet tall. Fizzy can’t help but smile at the absurdity.
“I suppose it is EVERY story,” she says to herself.
But what does that even mean? How could a book hold every story without bursting at the seams? Many stories had a single choice that could result in a different outcome. A different arc. In one, a character lived in loneliness. In another nearly identical story, they fell in love.
In this very book, Fizzy thinks, there could be a story that would tell her the secret to finding all of the pages and sending away those who want to use the book for… ill intent.
She picks up another page and presses it into the notebook. It begins to glow, as if it’s pleased to accept this humble offering. That’s when Fizzy notices two pages are bunched together, just ever so slightly out of place.
“Oh shoot,” she mutters to herself.
With a lick of her hoof, she tries to pry the two pages apart, but the makeshift book begins to glow brighter, and then brighter still. The two pages feel as if they’re bound together by gravity. Words arc back and forth between the two pages as they begin to separate, the binding trying to keep them melded firmly together.
“Come on… Come on!” Fizzy grunts, trying to force the pages apart. “I can’t pull these apart!”
With a loud pop, the two pages force themselves to the right and left side of the notebook. Words twirl up and out of the pages and grow into a large yellow circle.
For a moment, there is silence, and the air is still. Fizzy stares in awe at the golden aura in front of her.
“What in the world?” she wonders aloud.
Faintly on the other side, she can see… what seem like walls. And carpet, maybe? It’s hard to tell. Almost as if… it was a portal. Before she can fully register what she is seeing, the light slowly begins to dim.
It’s now or never.
Should she enter the portal?
*