Short stories, poems, and other such nonsense written by a crazy person.

by Dragonborne Fox

Revenge (Slice-of-life)

A grey-coated unicorn mare sat on a cushion, her red mane hanging past her shoulders. It was unkempt, giving her a feral look. Her azure eyes stared blankly at a series of papers before her, all of which had words messily scrawled on them as they lay on the table in a pile. A single candle that was alight had been placed at the far corner, barely illuminating the scene.

“So many ideas…” she mumbled, sighing contently. “It’ll be fun executing them.” She paused, closing her eyes as a small smile made itself known on her face. “Only problem’s finding out what goes where, but that’s a minor obstacle.”

There had been so many ideas scrawled on those papers to work with that if they were transcribed upon a list, it may as well have been neverending. Her mind drifted elsewhere, closed eyes scrunching tight as the memory of a most peculiar book came to mind.

She read through that book, front to back, through thick and thin. Its title eluded her, but she knew it had been written by one Prince Blueblood. She chuckled to herself, the idea of a prince—one who was spoiled rotten at that—actually taking time to do something that required effort amusing her just a bit. The book was awful.

It had a fine idea behind it, though, which was why she had been drawn to it. A minotaur traversing the seven seas, plundering the land, gaining more crewmates, and other such shenanigans a pirate captain would partake in.

Who wouldn’t love a pirate story every now and again?

The thing was, the story had more plot holes than a changeling’s legs, atrocious formatting, and since it was written by Blueblood of all ponies, had very little research done on the subject, if any at all.

The horrors simply didn't end there.

What made it worse was that she was one of the few who hated that story. One of the very few. Heck, she was the first to criticize it upon finishing the book.

And where did that get her? Blueblood sullied her name with vicious rumors and other things of the sort. The very few other critics of the work had the same thing happen to them.

So those few, the red-maned unicorn included, formed a group. One that was small, at first. But it grew—it grew like a crazed cult of literature.

The sound of hooves hitting the dark floor broke her from her thoughts, and she turned to its source. A grey pegasus with unusual blue markings and a black mane stared at her with baby blue eyes.

“Hey, Unique,” she said calmly.

“Hey, Flora,” Unique replied, flashing her a grin. “Ready to get back at Blueblood?”

“Any day I am,” Flora replied, a twinkle in her eyes. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, we make a book about him. It will be vague on the physical details, but the rest is up to you,” Unique replied.

“Ah. I assume I must work my magic?” Flora asked, cocking a brow.

“You’re one of the wizards here,” Unique answered, nodding his head.

Flora smiled darkly. “I think I can work that out,” she said.

“Excellent. Make sure to come in twenty minutes, the group’s got another meeting,” Unique stated, quickly trotting into the darkness of the room. The unicorn had assumed he went out, likely to attend this meeting. She turned to the papers again, horn lighting up as her magic sifted through them to find something suitable for this grand and momentous event of revenge.

At last, she found something. She rose up on all fours, still clutching the mess of papers in her magic, and she went into the darkness after blowing the candle out.

---

“What is the meaning of this trash!?” Blueblood yelled, throwing a book he’d just finished reading against the wall. He stormed towards a nearby butler and got up right into his face. “Who made that atrocity!?” he barked.

“It was made by a group of anonymous authors, milord,” the butler replied, eyes wide and sweat dotting his face.

“Send a guard! Have them thrown in the dungeons!” Blueblood yodeled, eyes narrowing low. “That book had the nerve of being horrible!”

“That book actually got very good ratings from the locals. It’s on par if not even more popular than yours, milord,” the butler replied, beginning to shake.

Blueblood turned around, trotting away. “You’ve no idea!” he complained. “It disregarded everything I’ve written in favor of more slime-filled ideals!”

“Sire, I’ve read that book and enjoyed it.” the butler replied, sighing.

“And you recommended it to me because of that?” the prince asked, turning around to face the butler again.

“Yes,” the butler answered with a nod of his head.

“Next time, don’t give me such rubbish!” Blueblood hissed, walking out of the room.

The butler went to the discarded book and picked it up. The title, “The Embodiment of Greed,” was certainly eye-catching. It had a fancy font, and the cover art detailed a shadowed pony with glowing eyes approaching a pile of gold and riches. Said cover art was clearly done by skilled hooves. “Why did he not like this excellent work?” the butler whispered, opening the book and reading through its hefty three-hundred seventy-two pages from start to finish.

By the time he was done, the prince came back. “Why are you reading that awful book once more?!” he barked.

“Well, milord, I was trying to assess what 'slime-filled ideals' that were penned in these pages made you flip,” the butler replied coolly, glancing towards a nearby list he compiled whilst reading. “Perhaps we could find the group of authors and ask them to mold it to your liking.”

“You said they were anonymous!” Blueblood pointed out, waving a hoof dismissively.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t find them,” the butler countered. “Considering their anonymity, however, it would certainly be much harder to detect them,” he added.

“You do raise a valid point,” Blueblood relented, sighing. “But still, go out and find them. Traverse the whole nation if you must—I want to see them in person,” he said.

“Very well, milord,” the butler replied with a nod, making his way out of the room.

Days passed since then, and the days turned into weeks, yet nothing turned up. Astonishingly, the book that was supposedly published by ‘a group of anonymous ponies’ had gotten far more positive reception than anyone could’ve ever known; even that which was written by Blueblood himself paled in comparison. This only angered the prince, since his book was popular before this rubbish came into existence.

Something gnawed at him: why were ponies reading that book which somehow out-shined his? What made them like it much more than his own work? And just where was the group of authors hiding?

He didn’t know, and he never got the answer. In time, his own book got more critics; far more than he could ever sully. His reputation as an author was tarnished, and the book he hated so much was given five stars, a skyrocketing amount of praise, and even other authors decided to use the universe established in “The Embodiment of Greed” to create their own spin-offs.

And, somewhere in the still of night, Flora was laughing triumphantly.

Author's Note:

Finished! :D

Comments

[Tranquil Serenity]

Hmm. I wonder if the book just took inspiration from Blueblood's personality, or if there were real events and actions in there disguised as fiction. 🤔

[Dragonborne Fox]

9705260 Honestly, it was a spur-of-the-moment idea that hit me, in the midst of Fimfiction drama that I witnessed.

What drama exactly, I'd not say—water under the bridge at this point.