Golden Prose

by Field

1

I’d been on the train for the last 16 hours and despite the fact that I’d spent 13 of them asleep, I was still feeling drained. Or maybe that in itself WAS the reason? Oversleeping wasn’t my style, but neither was being confined without fresh air for that long. The sleeper car was stuffy and stale, but more importantly it was empty aside from me. It was too close to the engine and coal car to comfortably open the windows so most ponies had taken cars further down the line. Why weren’t the sleepers at the end of the train where the luggage cars were? It was stupid.

“Stupid… stupid stupid stupid…” I muttered to myself, kicking the sweat-dampened sheet off of my body and rubbing the sleep from my eyes with my forehooves. I couldn’t lie here any longer, I already smelled of stale sweat and apple brandy. If I didn’t get up and move soon ponies might mistake me for a vagrant that had somehow slipped aboard. Not to mention the fact that my legs begged to be stretched out of the tucked position I’d been sleeping in.

Uneasily I rolled myself out of the lower bunk and onto my hooves, the slight sway of the train catching me slightly off guard. I tugged at my vest slightly to break the sweaty cling it had formed to my coat overnight. The sudden air flow against my chest was refreshing and gave me at least some encouragement that getting up had been a good idea.

It didn’t take me long to make my way from the sleepers to the dining car. It was still early so many ponies were still asleep; no one blocking the aisles for me to shove past. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon as I took a seat in one of the booths of the otherwise empty dining car. I busied myself reading the laminated one page menu until a waiter finally poked his head out of the adjacent kitchen area and noticed me.

“My apologies, sir, I didn’t hear you come in.” The aged blue unicorn croaked as he hurried to my booth. I waved off his apology with a half-smile. “Don’t worry about it, I needed the time anyway. Slow orderer. Indecisive.” Trying to avoid any extended conversation the waiter I quickly placed my order for a plate of apple Danishes and large glass of ice water, extra ice.

I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until my order arrived. I downed the ice water in seconds, mercifully getting a refill before the waiter even left the table. My poor choice in beverages the night before and the oppressive heat now must have really been getting to me. It made me wonder if the gooey sweetness on the plate before me might be a mistake. Thankfully the worry didn’t last long, because that was when she showed up.

The door from the passenger car slid open with a warm golden glow around the handle, and at first there was no one. It was almost like the morning sun itself had reached in through the window to open the door. Then a tail appeared, and the flank it was attached to. She looked good from behind. She looked good from the side! Then she backed all the way in and I saw her face as she dragged her unruly foal by the tail into the car. She was a lovely shade of goldenrod with a honey-wheat mane that flowed luxuriously nearly to the floor, but her eyes, her expression instantly snuffed out anything simmering inside me. Baltimare wasn’t as metropolitan as Manehatten, but during my time there I’d seen my share of exasperated stuck-up mares fussing over chipped hooves or 30 second waits in a line at Starbucked. The unicorn mare had that look about her now. The fact that she had a foal was just the kiss of death on the entire thing.

The blank-flanked little unicorn colt was demonstrating passive resistance at its finest by sprawling out like dead weight on the floor as his mother dragged him. From where I sat I couldn’t catch enough of her scolding to gather why he was being so foalish, but I assumed it was probably because mommy dearest had dragged him out of bed so early so she could get her super vente half-caff mocha wheat grass latte, or whatever the fancy ponies were drinking these days.

The pair took a seat on the opposite end of the car and the waiter quickly scurried over to them, not wanting to leave a second customer waiting. I nibbled half-heartedly on one of my Danishes, watching the new arrivals for lack of anything better to look at. The mare had a cutie mark that looked like a page being torn from a book. Something about it struck me as familiar, but I couldn’t quite put a hoof on it. What would a cutie mark like that even stand for? Professional book destroyer? I wondered how many hoops she had to jump through to get a library card.

For a few minutes the distraction was a welcome relief. I managed to force down all of the pastries on my plate while I watched the mare try to stop her colt from hiding under the table or opening all the packets of sugar and creamer at their table with his magic. Soon enough though she noticed me noticing them and shot me a dirty look. I quickly averted my eyes, embarrassed. I was the only other pony there, of course she would notice.

Not wanting to deal with the issue any longer I pulled several bits from one of my vest pockets and dropped them on the center of the table. I knew what the bill would be, I wasn’t going to hang out and wait for the waiter. I was gone.

Several hours later I found myself sitting comfortably in a chair in the lounge car with a copy of Equestria Today. I’d given myself a proper sink shower in one of the bathrooms so I was feeling as refreshed as I was going to while on the train. We had passed the last stop between Baltimare and Ponyville hours ago, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before we arrived and I could stretch my legs with more than just a stroll down the narrow train cars. Stretching my legs was all I allowed myself to think about for now as far as Ponyville was concerned. I would worry about the other things only when I got there.

For as seemingly nice as the train was overall the offerings in the lounge car seemed lacking. There was a small stack of today’s newspaper, picked up this morning at our last stop. Aside from that there wasn’t a magazine to be found. The other occupants of the car either read books they had brought themselves or gradually worked their way back through older issues of the newspaper that still sat around, tucked in chair cushions or at the bottom of stacks.

I struggled my way through an article about a technology symposium scheduled in Canterlot a few days from now. As an earth pony myself I couldn’t completely discount the idea of finding practical ways to replace magic, but personally I felt that the biggest names in the technology industry were just sorely trying to compensate for crippling cases of horn envy. Unicorn magic and the Pegasus gift of flight seemed hard to replace, but it wouldn’t take much stretch of the imagination for technological advances to render an earth pony’s physical labor obsolete. We were on the road to replace ourselves just out of spite.

Folding the newspaper down I blinked several times to readjust my eyes, catching a glimpse of two ponies looking at me from across the car. They looked back down at their papers almost quickly enough for me to believe it had been an incidental glance, but the soft whispering behind the papers had betrayed them. I could make out enough of the headline on their papers to see that it wasn’t today’s, so I could only guess that they had found one several weeks old. I glanced down at myself and realized that the way I was sitting my cutie mark had been fairly visible to them. They had probably recognized the design; a pair of binoculars with a canine paw print on the side.

I was instantly embittered that that news article was on board the train. It now felt like the train was carrying the taint I’d been leaving Baltimare to avoid. It was bringing it to Ponyville to spread there as well. Deep down I knew it was a stupid thought. Even though it hadn’t been front page news, my story had been big enough to make it into most credible newspapers. Ponyville would have read about it back when everyone else did, regardless of the copy on this train.

My face was flush as I stomped to my feet. I could feel my cheeks burning with shame misplaced into anger. In a blur I stormed over to the other ponies and snatched the newspapers from one then the other in my mouth. “EXCUSE ME?” The ebony mare declared in a state of shock as I leaned over her and shoved the newspapers out the window behind her seat. Her companion moved forward in his seat as if to retaliate, but I stopped him with a quick hoof on his chest and a shake of my head. “It’s not worth it. Making a scene isn’t going to hurt my reputation any, but you seem like you’d actually like to be allowed back on this train another day.”

The pony seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment, and then eased back into his seat morosely. “Look… just leave us alone, okay?” He practically growled, avoiding eye contact with both the mare and myself. Obliging his request I stomped my way out of the car. Heading back to the sleeper car with a feigned sense of victory I suddenly became aware that objects outside the trains windows were moving slower than they had been the last time I looked. We must have started slowing down in anticipation of arrival at the station. That was fine with me; I was very much done with this train and everyone on it.

By the time the larger luggage from the train was finally unloaded I felt like I was ready to burst. I’d paced up and down the platform seemingly hundreds of times, offered to the luggage ponies that I would unload my OWN bags and therefore be out of their manes quicker, been rejected for the aforementioned offer, and then sat dejectedly poking through the saddlebag loaded with some of my personal possessions for a while. When the cart loaded with my belongings was finally rolled up I hitched myself in and fled into town before anything else saw fit to slow me down.

I needed to pick things up from city hall, the market, and some greasy spoon diner called The Hay Rack. The dull rhythm of the chugging train still rung in my ears and all I wanted to do was head to my new home and bask in the silence and abundance of personal space. Technically the diner was the only place I needed to visit to make that wish a reality, but I knew once I got home I would be loathe to leave for several days. The other two stops could wait, but not for that long.
Town hall seemed like the most logical first stop. It would be the biggest and therefore easiest building in town to find. Most of the buildings in town were barely two stories high, I could see what I assumed to be town hall peeking up from the center of them all. In truth it was almost a refreshing change from the Baltimare skyscrapers. It lifted my dour spirits a bit.

Between my saddlebags and the cart hitch blocking my cutie mark I only got a few sideways looks of almost-recognition as I walked through town. For the most part I got pleasant smiles from the other ponies. I knew there couldn’t have been a very high influx of new faces in town, so I was grateful no one tried to stop me to introduce themselves.

When I finally made it to the town hall I quickly unhitched myself from my cart, but paused before going in. My stuff would be gone in a flash if I left it unattended back home, even outside of city hall. I had a feeling my cart would be fine here, but the hesitation was deeply ingrained.

The old unicorn behind the front desk smiled as I approached and ceased levitating the several quills he had been writing with. “Uhh, hey there. My name is Mossy Hooves; I’m here to see Councilmare Spendthrift about a business license?” I tried to smile back at the unicorn like I knew what I was talking about, but I really didn’t. I’d had other ponies set this up for me by scroll before I got here. If I actually had to DO anything besides pick the license up, I was screwed.

“Ah yes, the Councilmare just came out of a meeting. She should be in her office on the second floor right now.” The grizzled unicorn was polite, but quickly went back to his paperwork as though he were certain that was all the information I needed. With a roll of my eyes I trotted past his desk and up the stairs to the second floor, following the directory posted on the wall there to the councilmare’s office.

Her door was closed when I arrived, so I rapped a hoof against it only to have it swing open abruptly as if she’d been waiting there the whole time. The pale blue earth pony with a cutie mark of scattered coins and quills blinked at me, as if surprised. “Oh my, I’m sorry dear, you caught me on my way out to lunch. Can you come back later?” I grimaced slightly and remained where I was, blocking her path. “Actually ma’am I hope this will just take a second. My name is Mossy Hooves; some associates of mine have been in contact with you about a business license in my name. I was hoping to pick it up today.”

The mare blinked several times again as gears turned in her head, then her expression soured slightly and she took a step back into her office. “I’m afraid there’s been a delay in processing your request, Mr. Hooves. It may be as long as another three weeks before your license comes through.” She said finally, a hint of disdain in her voice. “You’re kidding!” I shot back, unable to hide the quickly rising frustration boiling in my chest. “You have everything you needed from me, I was told it I just needed to sign something in person today and everything would be complete!”

“You’re quite lucky to even get consideration to operate your proposed business here given your reputation!” Her voice had turned to pure venom. She was very clearly against what I had planned, and it dawned on me that she was probably the one dragging her hooves to prevent it from becoming reality. “Now I know you only came here for the Everfree Forest, and on some level I do respect you for sticking with your calling even after what you did, but for the love of Celestia you will not make the same mistakes here trying to redeem yourself.”

The mare’s words cut sharply through my frustrated haze and replaced it with the cool chill of embarrassment. She had me pegged better than I wanted to admit and I couldn’t argue against that. I exhaled deeply through my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. “Three weeks then?” I mumbled. “At the most.” She replied, noticeably calmer now that she saw me sulking like a beaten dog. “We will contact you when we’re ready to move the process along, not vice versa. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date.”

After the ordeal at town hall I was ready to forgo all other stops and head straight home. Of course it couldn’t be that simple though. I still had to make a stop by the Hay Rack diner. The keys to my new home were waiting there for me, care of a short order cook by the name of Hardtack Jack. His name didn’t inspire me with any confidence in the diner’s food. Good thing I didn’t intend to stick around there for a meal.

Despite the overall country folksy décor of the town as a whole, the Hay Rack was an art deco eyesore. It was like a chrome and neon pimple on the face of the pretty, young farm filly that was Ponyville. In appearance it was the only thing in town that really reminded me of Baltimare. I couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing in this case.

With a moment of the same hesitation I’d felt outside town hall I managed to leave my cart outside again and pushed my way through the doors into the diner. None of the other ponies even paid me a glance as I trotted across the tile and took a seat at the counter. It was nice until I realized that I was first to recognize somepony this time. Sitting in a booth off to my left were the honey wheat mare and her colt from the train that morning. Today was just not my day.

Thankfully for both parties involved the pair looked like they were in a better humor than they were earlier. The mare had a notepad and quill in front of her beside a salad that looks like it had been spread around more than eaten. Though she was levitating the quill as if to write, her attention was fixed on her colt. The little unicorn was regaling his mother with a story of some description all the while slurping down a milkshake rivaling the size of his head. For her part the mare seemed amused, not bothered, and with a smile on her face I found myself admiring her again.

“It’s exciting having a celebrity in town, isn’t it?” The waitress had snuck up on me and I jumped in my seat slightly. “Celebrity? I don’t recognize her.” I replied in a much more hushed tone than her, temporarily forgetting about my plan for a quick exit. “Oh sweetie, that’s Golden Prose, the famous author!” The waitress beamed and the mare looked up from her booth to give her a disparaging look. I looked back and forth between the two, only to be reward with an ‘oh, and you’re here too’ look from Golden Prose. She remembered me, I was almost flattered.

“Oh dear, there I go again running my mouth. I keep getting over-excited and then I forget I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut.” The waitress made a zipper motion across her mouth. “Now what can I get you, sweetie?” I blinked for a second, suddenly understanding the mare’s attitude problem. She probably thought I was just another gawking fan. Well the joke’s on you, filly, I’ve never heard of you. “Actually I’m just here to talk to Hardtack Jack, he has something for me.” I replied finally. The waitress appraised me for a moment, and then nodded with sudden recognition. “You must be the one he sold his brother’s house to. You just wait here one minute, sweetheart, and I’ll go fetch him.”

I prayed to Celestia and Luna that I wasn’t about to look down the barrel of another confrontation like I’d had with the councilmare. I could live without the business license for now, but no hotel in town would be able to accommodate my cart full of belongings if I didn’t have a home to go to tonight. It would probably rob me of the last of my daily allowance of sanity.

A creak behind me alerted me as a new patron entered the diner. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as the white unicorn mare with the bright blue mane marched with a purpose past a host of open seats and planted herself in front of Golden Prose’s booth. She was still wearing her sunglasses even though she was inside, and even the sunlight outside wasn’t bright enough to warrant them. I turned to face them ever so slightly, curious to see if Golden Prose would give the new arrival the same brush off she seemed to be giving everypony else.

“Golden Prose!” The newcomer started abruptly, not even giving the other mare a chance to respond. “My name is Vinyl Scratch, I’m basically the local DJ around here, and I also do a late night radio talk show. Also, HUGE fan of your work. I’ve read all of your books.” Golden Prose was unimpressed, and with a well practiced smile she lowered her quill and turned slightly in her seat. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan, Ms. Scratch, but I’m actually on vacation with my son right now and we’ve both had a long day already. So if you don’t mind…”

Undeterred, Vinyl Scratch clapped her hooves together and grinned widely. “Oh no no no, I’m not here to take up any of your time today. I just wanted to ask you if you wouldn’t mind dropping by my station some night while you’re in Ponyville for an interview. Aside from the Princesses you’re one of the biggest names to pass through our little town and I know everypony would love to hear what you have to say!”

“As I said before, my son and I are on vacation.” Golden Prose replied, her eyes narrowing slightly into that glare that I was already becoming familiar with. “For the time being I am deliberately out of touch with my agent, so I can make no promises about any public appearances.”

“Oh, it doesn’t even have to be official or anything! Just drop on in any night you feel like it!” The DJ was clearly refusing to get the hint. “Bring the colt too if you like!”

By this point even I was starting to feel bad for Golden Prose, despite the nasty looks she’d shot me over the course of the day. I knew what it felt like to be hounded by the press, albeit to a lesser extent over a shorter period of time. I’d also had the advantage of lacking family to bring into the public eye. Golden Prose’s little colt had lost the enthusiasm he’d had minutes ago and was now shrunken back in his seat, only sipping at his milkshake. He was clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention his mother was getting.

Since I had no real public persona to defend I had quickly learned that the quickest way to deal with pesky prying ponies was to make myself even ruder than they were. This seemed like a situation where my rudeness might come in handy.

Gingerly grasping a ketchup packet from a small basket on the counter, I eased out of my seat. I then tucked the packet very loosely into one of my vest pockets before setting off across the diner. The packet threatened to dislodge itself with every step, and as I passed beside Golden Prose and Vinyl Scratch I let it do just that. Then with a mighty stomp I let fly a shower of red.

The ketchup splattered across my face and chest, catching the back of Vinyl Scratch’s head by proxy. The bright red paste stood as a stark contrast against her white coat and blue mane. Everyone in the diner turned to look as the mare turned to face me, a look of utter shock on her face. “What in the BUCK just happened?” She cried out, gingerly touching the back of her head as if she expected to find a wound there instead of ketchup. “What is WRONG with you?”

“Uhh, my bad?” I offered up, wiping a smear of ketchup from my face with my foreleg. “Didn’t see that on the floor there.”
Vinyl Scratch lifted up her sunglasses and gave me a quick once over, then to my surprise she chuckled. A collective sigh of relief broke out around the diner. Thank Celestia there were still a few ponies in this town with a sense of humor.
“Don’t think I don’t know who you are as well.” She said with a bit of a smirk. “If you wanted to get interviewed too you didn’t have to go slinging condiments everywhere. I’m a reasonable pony with a lot of radio air time on my hooves. Give me a minute to go clean up and we’ll talk shop.”

In the time it took Vinyl Scratch to clean every last bit of ketchup from herself Golden Prose had gathered up her things and her colt and fled the diner. She never actually thanked me directly, but I heard her mentioned to the waitress to add my bill to her tab. Even though I had no intention of eating there, it was as close to a thank you as I was going to get and after everything that had happened today I appreciated it.

I stood outside beside my cart, still wiping myself with a napkin as Hardtack Jack rambled on at me. He was a beefy brown pony with what I thought might have been a plate of hash browns for a cutie mark. If it weren’t for the hash browns he would have reminded me of my father. I’d gotten my brown coat and mane from him, but I had my mother to thank for the green of my eyes and namesake hooves.

“And like I mentioned in the last letter you’re still gonna have to clean all the junk outta the place before you have any room to move your junk in. That’s why you’re gettin’ such a steal on the place. I ain’t got the time or the energy to deal with it these days.” I could discern a slight note of sadness in Jack’s voice.

“I remember. Is there anything in the house I should know about? Or is there anything in particular you don’t want me to throw out?” I hoped that Jack and the rest of his family had gone through the house beforehand, I didn’t want to be picking through junk looking for heirlooms so that I didn’t accidentally pitch them.

“Nah nah, everything left there now is junk. You can trash or keep anything you find. Just be aware he did have a gun in the house somewhere… we didn’t really want that back.” I instantly knew what that meant and it sent a cold weight down into the pit of my stomach. After the scene I’d put on in his diner any condolences I offered would probably come off as hollow, so I decided against it.

After a few more minutes of discussing the locations of things in the house like the circuit breakers, water valves, and other important features the cook and I parted ways. I was feeling remarkably less enthusiastic about the house than I was before. I’d been too gutless to confirm my suspicion, but I was really hoping my new home wasn’t someplace somepony had decided to give themselves a little shotgun mouthwash.

From what I’d read before leaving Baltimare no ponies actually lived in the Everfree Forest. At least not any that registered with the Equestrian census. I had been there several times before though and each time my group had been accosted by the same zebra. She always delivered a cryptic, rhyming warning about whatever we happened to be tracking at the time. We could never figure out how she always knew what it was we were looking for, but she never directly interfered so we never really minded. More importantly it showed that there were in fact ponies who didn’t buy into the myths about the forest. The only way she would have noticed us so deep in the forest each and every time was if she was living there.

Most ponies in Ponyville seemed to believe that the forest was evil, or at the very least too dangerously strange to be trusted. They believed it could warp the way a pony thought, turn them into someone they weren’t, or drive them to complete madness. More often than not it seemed to end with stories like the one of Hardtack Jack’s brother, in suicide. And he had only lived on the EDGE of the forest. I could vouch for some of the more dangerously strange occurrences, but the species responsible were a far cry from being evil. No one on the crew I’d worked with had ever reported any abnormal thinking amongst the group, and I myself had found trips into the forest to actually be quite pleasant. It was amazing what growing up with superstitions like that could do.

As I hauled my cart down the dusty, sun-baked path toward the cabin that would be my new home, a thought occurred to me. However the Everfree’s reputation had began, it now persisted because the very nature of it attracted troubled souls to begin with. Ponies who were already suffering psychologically would hear stories about the supernatural occurrences in the forest, and whether seeking some kind of profound experience or just to indulge some bizarre fantasy they would enter the forest with reckless abandon. When they found that there was truly nothing there their mental state would deteriorate further, leading to who knows what.

Given the way my nerves were being frazzled over the course of the day I was impressed with my analysis. I knew my interest in the forest was merely professional AND I’d been there before without ill effect, so living near it would be no problem for me. The only problem I could honestly foresee was the possibility of running across weirdoes visiting the forest.

When the house finally came into view the forest loomed behind it. When they’d told me the cabin was on the edge of the
forest they weren’t kidding. It looked like a stiff breeze would tickle the cabin’s roof with tree branches.

The building was old. It had been added upon and retrofitted many times over the years, and it showed. Supposedly the foundation was the only true remnant from the original home, dating at least a thousand years into antiquity. I seriously doubted any part of the home was that old, but it didn’t really matter to me either way given the great deal I’d gotten on it.

Two stories, three bedroom, two bathrooms, hot and cold running well water, and a shed out back that provided power via a generator. It had the typical rustic appeal of many cabins I’d seen before with its rough hewn timber and stone chimney. It looked like it belonged here.

I parked the cart outside the front door and quickly unhitched myself from it, taking a moment to catch my breath after I did so. It hadn’t been that far of a walk, but dragging all your worldly possessions with you tended to make anything a little harder. Extracting the keys I had gotten from Hardtack I unlocked the door, pulled on the handle, and was immediately assaulted with a rolling wave of heat.

Nearly stumbling back from the doorway I turned my head away and wheezed. The house must have been completely sealed up and baking in the summer heat for weeks. This was going to be problematic for moving in, as I was sweating my tail off outside already. Carrying boxes and moving furniture around in that oven pretty much guaranteed I would be wishing I was dead within an hour.

Leaving the front door wide open in an effort to let out some of the heat and improve circulation, I headed around back to the generator shed. I’d bypassed the market on my way out of town, so if the generator was out of fuel I was going to be roughing it for the night. The shed itself was shaded by the forest itself leaving it drastically cooler than the house. As I stepped inside I was almost tempted to just stay there instead.

I nudged several of the fuel canisters on the floor but they all toppled over, empty. A frown crept across my face. It was stupid of me to think they would have left any spare fuel behind. My only hope was that there was still some leftover in the generator itself. The gauge indicated about an eighth of a tank remained, but as I tapped it gently with a hoof the arrow bounced back and forth, stopping arbitrarily at different points. The Luna-damned thing was probably too old to be accurate anymore.

There was only one way to know for sure. I tapped the primer button several times, gripped the pull-cord with my teeth and gave a mighty yank… only to be rewarded with nothing. Not to be deterred I continued to tug the cord, and finally on the fifth yank the generator turned over. Success! Power meant active well pumps, and active well pumps meant running water, and running water meant a shower.

An hour later I’d finally moved everything from my cart into the living room of the house. From my seat on the sofa I surveyed the pile and the rest of the room. The way Hardtack had spoken I’d expected the place to be a lot more furnished. It had all the basic necessities, but it lacked a personal touch. I knew there wouldn’t be pictures on the walls or framed on the shelves; the family would have come in and collected those before putting the house up for sale. Nonetheless it struck me that there were no pale spots on the walls showing where a picture would have been, likewise all the shelves and the fireplace mantle were coated in an even layer of dust. There should have been at least a couple spots where the dust had been disturbed when they removed picture frames.

Truthfully it didn’t look like the family had taken anything from the house. That in itself was a little disconcerting and made me want to move all the old stuff out all the more quickly. Thankfully I had brought my own mattress and linens so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the bed that remained. That would definitely be the first thing to go in the morning.

Easing myself up from my seat I strolled over to the bookcase and began to scan over the titles. There were a lot of how-to books; apparently Hardtack’s brother had been a bit of a handypony. On some of the middle shelves there were several rows of the usual Equestrian classical standards, A Tale of Two Stables, The Apples of Wrath, The Adventures of Buck Finn, and many others. The top shelves however, had several titles I had never heard of before. The Labyrinth of Me, The Temple of Shadow and Mist, In Her Dreams to Prevail, and Kept From Sleep. They were all by the same author, somepony by the name of Shining Dawn. I wasn’t in touch with popular culture enough to know who Golden Prose was, and she was a modern author. These books looked ancient, so it seemed reasonable enough that I’d never heard of Shining Dawn.

Standing tall on my hind legs I reached up and tugged one of the books off the shelf. Before I could open it however, I noticed something metallic glinting in the gap between the remaining books. I dropped the first book and pulled down two more, revealing the hidden object. My eyes widened. It was a gun. A .38 caliber revolver to be specific. Gingerly I scooted the gun towards the edge of the shelf until I could reach the walnut handled bit-grip with my mouth. I flicked the cylinder open to find that, frighteningly enough, it was completely loaded with what appeared to be live rounds. If Hardtack’s brother had really killed himself he certainly hadn’t used this to do it.

I emptied the bullets out onto the coffee table and then put the gun down beside them. This was probably going to be one of the first things to go tomorrow as well. I had no use for it and it was just another unsettling reminder of things that might have happened in the house.

With a grunt I flopped backwards onto the mattress I’d set up beside the couch to be my bed for the night. To say that things were not going how I expected would be too much of an understatement. They could only go up from here though. I wasn’t hurting for money yet and I had three weeks to get my home and my life squared up. For now I was clean and had a place to sleep that wasn’t yards away from a chugging locomotive. Not to mention I was at least a mile away from anypony who might bother me.

Swinging a hoof over to the couch-side table I tapped the button on the side of the lamp there, plunging the room into darkness. Morning would be a fresh start and I intended to make the most of it.

Author's Note:

I've been suffering from writers block for about six months now, so this fanfiction is my attempt to break through that so that I can work on other projects. That being said, this is my first fanfiction in general, so I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Comments

[-Brutus]

Great introduction, moving on :).