Diary of a Night Watchman
I suppose you could call this my journal. Well, at the minute it’s just a few lines in a mostly blank book, but I’m working on it.
I’m currently on guard duty for the royal library on this fine, fine night (I drew the ‘lucky’ straw), and I’m just so bored. The moon is still high in the sky, meaning I’ll have to wait a good three or four hours (assuming my replacement isn’t late, which with my luck, he most likely will be) to be relieved. On the topic of relief, the only toilet in this building is blocked, and I don’t have keys for any of the others (why do you need to put a key lock on a toilet door anyway? Isn’t that unhygienic?). This puts me at the mercy of any insomniac stranger who I can get to cover me while I rush to a bush in the gardens to do business there (like they’ll ever know it was me).
So, anyway, here I am pacing up and down the empty rooms (well there are books obviously) writing this little journal to pass time. There are plenty of things in the books around me, some of it I shouldn’t read, but still can (there’s nopony here to stop me). I wonder, is four hours enough to learn the finer points of time travel? If I could time travel I could go back in time to tell myself how to time travel, I could save all the time I sent learning how to do that and put it into somethi-
Yeah. I am pretty bored right now as you can probably tell. While there is a lot to be learned from the books in here, books can’t do everything. What can’t they do? I hear you say hypothetical reader; try these things the next time you are in my situation. You will find they are all impossible
You can’t make food.
For an example: Pie.
I mean it seems obvious to say this, but libraries don’t have ovens (disregard if you come from a place where they do, and please do tell me where), or any source of pastry. Even with magic I can’t just create food from nothing. I’m also a terrible cook too; I could botch a meal with two ingredients, fail at making a sandwich, and fail to perform many other culinary tasks. It is also worth a mention that a lot of books in here are hundreds of years (some probably more) old. This means one crumb landing on the page could ruin a valuable piece of our literary heritage; not something I want. If only for the fact I’d get into trouble. I don’t think the librarians like me as it is. Drinks are a similar issue that I am equally dissatisfied with. A whole night without coffee is not fun to stay up through.
You can’t talk.
Well, you can, if you really want. Just not to anypony. The nearest equine soul is over the other side of the gardens. I do not fancy shouting until my voice is hoarse though, so it is just me and you here (hello again hypothetical reader). I understand why everypony was so spread out. I know if I shared this area I’d be happy to spill all my secrets just to give something to talk about to pass the time. And Nopony needs to know what I did to…
I don’t know why but I just felt a shock, all I did was close my eyes. That time. That does lead me quite well into my next point: You can’t sleep.
Of course the ponies that built the castle, with their infinite power of foresight, made it impossible for anypony to sleep here in the library. A lesson I did not enjoy learning the hard way. On my first night doing this, I did a lap of the building and thought, ‘That’s my job done’, so I just began to relax and rest my eye’s. I think we both know the real implication there though. Now is a good time to mention, I’m a heavy sleeper. I mean a real, ‘sleep through a buffalo stampede’, type of heavy. Back to the story: I was falling asleep, but then I felt this tingling at the base of my tail. I ignored it and stayed how I was.
A few minutes later, I felt a more intense electric shock go straight through me. I dug around for a while and found out that there is a spell cast on this building that delivers an uncomfoteable wake-up-call in the form of an electric jolt. I have personally dubbed it, with no objection from my peers, the ‘zap a tired innocent stallion who never wanted to be here’ spell.
You can’t sit down.
There are chairs, of course, but they may even outdate the books. I wouldn’t recommend that you lean back on them. The chairs are also enchanted with the ‘zap a tired innocent stallion’ spell. Any time your mind wanders when you are on a chair, zap. This place seems to be a dreamland for students who need to study for an imminent test, the building wants you to get stuff done, and it likes to have its way, but it is something of a nightmare for ponies like me.
You can’t check the time.
No clocks in this building work; they all have broken parts, missing keys, or whatever else wrong with them. It drives me a little insane to not know how much of this paid torture I have left endure. One could check the moon in the sky for a loose idea, but I have never bothered to learn which way is west and which way is east. I would complain, but I think the regular patrons sabotaged them all on purpose so a ticking noise wouldn’t distract them. I suppose if the clocks did work I would just be complaining about the noise they make, but I see that as the lesser of the two evils.
Five things not enough? Well I’ve got plenty more to complain ab-
Wait; I think I see somepony over there. I hope it isn’t my imagination, I really can’t hold this in forever. It’s been fun hypothetical reader.