The Writer

by jroddie

Chapter 1

Albert was a normal pony. Normal brown mane, normal yellow coat, normal brown eyes. He had a normal job, lived in a normal house, and certainly never did anything adventurous. He did just about the same thing every day. He woke up, he took a bath, he went to work, he baked bread, he came home again, and then he slept. He did that every single day. Day in and day out, all he did was sleep, eat, and bake bread. There was only one day where he didn’t do this. This story is about that day.

“Good morning, Albert.” Rising said, her bright orange hooves deep in a bowl of bread dough. She was his boss at the bakery, and she was a very nice pony. But as cheery as Rising tried to be, Albert always had trouble with mornings because he never really wanted to wake up.

“Uurrgshhh.” Albert replied, not opening his eyes. Rising smiled and kneaded some more. Albert, eyes still shut, grabbed his apron off of a peg on the wall. The strap slid over his ears and down his neck, the rest of the apron dragging on the floor. His mane was sticking up in all directions, clearly not having been combed meticulously as it was almost every other morning. Rising was very worried about Albert. He never came into work without combing his mane. She kept an eye on him as he trudged to the ovens.

Albert is in charge of placing trays of uncooked rolls into the ovens and then taking those rolls out before they turn into black, smoky lumps. He doesn’t often make black smoky lumps. Usually, the rolls he makes are crisp, golden, and wonderful. When the rolls bake, Albert always thinks about his life. He wonders how his life could be different. What if Albert weren’t such a normal pony? What if things actually happened to Albert? Albert would sit and watch the rolls rise slowly, thinking: What if I was a rich pony? What if I went on adventures? What if I fought monsters? What if? Albert always thought that his life could be better, but he never really did anything to make it happen. He thought that fun and adventure would just fall out of the sky one day. It did.

Albert was walking home from work when adventure fell from the sky. The night was a little bit chilly, and Albert was walking quickly because he hated the cold. The full moon made the night somewhat bright, and it was easy to see. The cobblestones on the ground glistened lightly in the moonlight. Albert stopped walking for a moment, shivering. It’s never this cold this time of year thought Albert. He stood for a moment and looked at the now-shiny cobblestones, pondering the day. It rained earlier, he thought. He had to make extra rolls because it was rainy. Rain sells bread. Especially warm bread. Albert zipped his coat up a little bit more with a shiver. It was far too cold for this time of year. Albert’s teeth started to chatter and he started to walk faster down the cobblestone street.

He could hear a faint whisper of something, like a crackling fire or the crunch of dry leaves underhoof. It was so different that it made him investigate. He looked around for the noise, and it sounded like it was coming from a narrow, dark alleyway. He peered around the seeing nothing. He gulped, knowing that he would have to go in to know what it was that was making the noise. Steeling himself, he broke routine and walked down the alleyway. It was spooky. The bright moon cast a strange shadow in the alleyway, only leaving a sliver of wall illuminated. The alleyway turned a corner a few meters down from Albert, and he could see a flickering glow coming from around the corner. The crackling noise was louder now. He hesitated, not sure if he should look. Maybe if he turned back now, his transgression against the Routine would be forgiven. No, the inner Albert said. Turning back now just means more rolls in the morning it reasoned flawlessly. Albert gulped and took the final few steps to peek around the corner.

There was a sudden flash- Albert was blinded! He stumbled, blinking, trying to find out what was happening. He finally fell over, unable to keep his balance. He crossed his hooves over his face, trying to hide from the monster that guarded the Routine.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Albert sobbed, trying to appease the routine monster. There was a laugh.

“What are you talking about?”

“I promise I’ll make the rolls in the morning I promise oh please don’t eat me!” Albert pleaded, cringing away from the monster.

“What?” The monster asked. Albert sneaked a peek at the monster from inbetween his hooves. He just looked like a bright white rectangle.

“Y-Y-You’re the Routine monster?” Albert asked. The square laughed.

“No, you silly goose. I’m Mark.” The rectangle said. Alfred frowned, looking at the thing. His eyes started to adjust, and the rectangle became infinitely more complex. There was a little black window inside of the rectangle, along with other tinier windows on the right side of it. There were words written all over the screen that weren’t windows.

“You don’t look like much.” Albert commented. Mark laughed.

“That’s not me. That’s my laptop” Mark remarked. Albert frowned.

“What’s a you tubes?” Albert asked, reading the screen. An arm dropped down and closed the rectangle shut. The arm was attached to a body that stood tall, a good two feet taller than Albert. It was gangly and thin, and Albert couldn’t see much of him in the dark light. “Who are you?” Albert asked. Mark, the thing, laughed.

“We can get to that later. I’ll explain everything over dinner.” He explained, rushing past Albert and out of the alleyway. Albert, stuttering, had no other choice but to follow him.

Mark was a very strange pony indeed.

He barely had any fur. All he had was a black mess of it on his head. His skin was so extremely pale that Albert thought that Mark was dead. Mark had to fend off Albert with a doormat while he explained how suntans work. He wore a green t-shirt and a black hoodie. It had funny little metal aglets. He was also wearing faded blue jeans and penny loafers. He had spectacles. Perfectly round lenses with a delicate silver wire holding them together. His Lap Top was actually an amazing machine capable of doing almost anything. It lived in a large green bag with an “OK-GO” sticker on it. Mark tried to explain the sticker, but Albert couldn’t understand any of it. Albert ended up making tea for Mark and himself.

“So Albert-” Mark started, fiddling with his glasses, “What do you want to do tomorrow?” He asked. Albert snorted, looking at the teakettle.

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Albert replied, annoyed. The teakettle started to whistle low. Mark laughed.

“That’s not what I asked. What do you want to do tomorrow?” Mark re-iterated. Albert frowned. The teakettle started to whistle in earnest now. Albert got a mouth mit out of a drawer to pick it up with.

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? I’ve got to make bread.” Albert explained. He put the mit over his mouth so he could grab the kettle without burning his mouth. He carried the kettle over to the low wooden table Mark was hunched over. Albert set the kettle down on a little cozy and plopped himself down. Mark picked up the kettle and poured himself a cup. Albert looked at Mark with a skeptical frown. Mark noticed, and then shrugged.

“What?” He asked.

“So what exactly are you?”

“I’m the Writer.” Mark said simply, like it was an obvious fact. He set down the kettle and Albert leaned forward.

“That’s what you do- It’s not what you are.” Albert sniped. Mark smiled.

“It’s both. Here-” Mark said, ducking down to his bag. Albert got on his tippy-hooves and watched Mark rummage through his bag. Mark pulled out a notebook and a stick.

“What’s that?” Albert asked, looking at the stick. Mark pulled a section off of the stick and set it on the table. Mark frowned, waving his hands in little circles, trying to figure out how to explain.

“It’s like a quill, but you don’t have to use an ink well. Kinda like magic.” He said. He placed the pen on the paper and jotted out a paragraph. He ripped the section of writing out of the notebook and set it in front of Albert on the table. Albert looked at the note, and then up to Mark.

“What is this?”

“Read it.” Mark said.

“But-”

“Read it” Mark insisted. Albert sighed and looked down at the paper.

Albert sighed and looked down at the paper. He didn’t believe what Mark

had to say about anything, really. The only evidence he had was the ‘Lap Top’ and

the funny shoes. Other than that, there was nothing to anything that he said.

“Oh come on, what’s this?” Albert asked, holding a hoof up at the paper. Mark gestured for him to read on.

While Albert was doubting Mark, the teakettle started to rattle.

Albert looked up at the teakettle. It was still for a moment, but then it started to shake gently. He looked up at Mark incredulously. Mark held his hands up, as if to display his innocence. Albert eyed the shaking kettle and looked back down at the paper.

The kettle was rattling faster now, faster, faster! Tea was sloshing out,

spilling all over the table. Albert backed away, afraid of the kettle.

As he read, Albert felt a sharp rush of fear, hearing the kettle rattling even louder, hearing the hiss of scalding tea on hot porcelain. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the little note, so he grabbed it and took it away with him. He managed to look away from the note to see the kettle sloshing all of the tea out. The lid tumbled off of the kettle and shattered on the floor. Albert turned back to the note.

Albert turned back to the note as the lid split into pieces on the ground. He

couldn't understand what was happening. Suddenly, the kettle stopped shaking.

Silence permeated the room. Albert looked at the kettle for a moment before a

split second of instinct told him to cover his face.

Albert read the note in shock, hiding his face with his hooves at the last second. There was a sharp explosion, tinkling and sharp. Shards of hot porcelain rained down on Albert, but none of the pieces harmed him. They just tumbled off of his coat like they were bouncy balls. Albert got up after a moment of the ground, looking back at the table. Albert walked up to the table and a smiling Mark. There was a brilliantly bright golden bar, about an inch and a half wide at the top and four inches long, resting on the cozy that the kettle was on. There was an eagle, wings spread at the top of the bar, holding a bauble with a weird design on it. Underneath the eagle were some funny words and a combination of letters and numbers. Mark picked the bar up.

“Point nine nine nine carat gold, this stuff. Pretty expensive. This much gold would be worth about, oh, nine thousand bits.” Mark said, slipping the bar into one of his pockets. Mark patted his pocket and turned back to Albert.

“Wh-Wha-W-”

“I told you, Albert. I’m the Writer. Do you want to know why your life is so boring?” Mark asked, resting an elbow on the table and leaning forward. Albert gulped.

“S-Sh-Sure” He whispered. Mark smiled, explaining.

“It's because I don’t know what to do with you. I’ve been sitting on your story for a while now, and I think it’s about time something happened with your life. So what do you say?”

“S-Say about what?”

“Want to help me write your life story?"

Comments

[AnonPony]

Very, very interesting premise.
I'll keep an eye on this.

[quill and ink]

Hmm I guess you should take this like