Local

by Seer

Night Owl - I

Test one. 

Test two. 

It seems like the train ride wasn’t wasted, right? 

Oh, yeah, no-one’s gonna respond. Maybe force of habit when it comes to speaking out loud catching up with me there, haha. 

So, introductions might be in order, I suppose? I’m Night Owl, and, as of Monday, I’ll be the new Ponyville Librarian! I’m 26, and I just moved from Trottingham… and immediately this feels awkward. This isn’t how ponies actually introduce themselves. But then I’ve never written a diary before. 

Ugh, anyway, the new job! 

I’ve been looking for a position for months now. It’s strange, you’d think there would be more opportunities for a librarian in the bigger cities, but it’s not the case. See, those institutions are much bigger, more established. All the ponies who work there are experienced, years in the business. 

Unfortunately, ponies like me usually have to move to some small town for a few years, then another one, then another one. Honestly, it’s rare to find a job in a city library until after, like, your fourth job. But I got lucky! I will be running the library here! Not just an assistant, or a stockist. No, I’ll be doing it all. And yeah, I mean, it’s scary. Of course it’s scary, but it’s, like, good scary, you know?

Oh, haha, yep. Really need to remember this book isn’t gonna respond to me.

Unless I… 

No, no that would take far too much spellwork, and I’m not gonna have that much free time soon! I only had time to learn this one because the train ride was three hours! But mum had always told me that keeping a journal was good to keep your thoughts in order. And I have terrible hornwriting, so, why not learn a spell that transcribes my voice to writing? And, I don’t know, maybe it feels more… honest? 

I don’t know why this would even be a consideration, though. It’s not like anyone’s gonna be reading this. I don’t even know why I did an introduction before. Everything I said, I know. I know who I am, I know I’m a librarian. Now I’m wondering whether I need any of the big parts of my life in here at all. Maybe journals aren’t for anything deep, maybe they’re for the minutiae of your day to day life that you might forget. 

But at the same time… I guess a part of me hopes that someone will read this one day. That I’ll end up as someone whose life was worth reading about. Even if it’s just one other pony. I know that being a librarian isn’t exactly the most important job in the world. But, isn’t that what everyone wants, in a way? To be someone who’s name means something, even if it’s after you’re gone. 

I, uh…

Wow, I got a little emotional there, didn’t I? I don’t… I don’t really know what came over me. 

Maybe it’s the move. Maybe it’s the fact that… well, I mean I’m grateful that I’m gonna be running the library, don’t get me wrong. But, being here all by myself? After living with mum and dad for so long? I guess I got comfy. And no move, not even ones to important new jobs or picturesque towns, are comfy. 

I’ll… I’ll get used to it. It’s an adventure! And, besides, the town seems lovely! I can’t believe how much cleaner the air is here than Trottingham! I couldn’t believe when I got here that the library position would be vacant. I would have thought this would be a perfect place for an older librarian to stake their claim and never move. 

But no! Apparently the previous librarian actually resigned. That’s what they told me in the interview! And, I mean, I don’t know other ponies’ circumstances, obviously. But still, when I was walking through the streets, looking at all the houses, taking in the air. 

When I got into the library, all the beautiful wooden shelves and space for reading, for discovering, I could only think one thing. 

Why would anyone ever wanna leave a place like this? 

Dear diary.

Wow, that sounded weird to say out loud, haha. I think I might give that part a miss from now on.

Anyway, tomorrow’s the big day!

Saturday was, like, all unpacking. I guess you don’t really realise just how much stuff you end up bringing with you to new places. It took me hours to actually get everything of mine set up and in its right place, and I’m pretty organised as it is. 

Well, actually, I’m very organised. I mean, I’m a librarian, it kinda comes with the territory. 

But even after all of that unpacking, I still would have had time to go and grab dinner in Ponyville. See some of the sights, maybe have a couple of glasses of wine somewhere. Maybe talk to some ponies? 

But then, I saw the shelves. 

It was like, I don’t know what the previous librarian was doing. I don’t even know if I’m sure it was the previous librarian did this. I can’t imagine any librarian would. Maybe the townsponies have been using the library and just didn’t know how to actually sort the books?

It was utter chaos. There wasn’t the faintest rhyme or reason to any of it. Sorting it took me twice as long as it did to unpack all of my stuff. By the time the books were back in their correct places, it was past midnight. 

I used my whole first Saturday here, putting books in the correct order. And I know the point could be made that, as a librarian, that’s something I should expect, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t leave a bad taste in the mouth. This was the weekend to be something before I was the town librarian. To leave an imprint aside from that. 

I’m so glad I arrived when I did now. I had originally been planning to turn up today. Imagine that! I would have arrived exhausted from the train ride, then would have had to unpack, then would have had to sort all of the books back into a presentable order. There probably wouldn’t even have been enough time left to go to sleep!

It was mum and dad who convinced me to travel before the weekend, actually. They said this would happen, that I’d regret it if I didn’t give myself the weekend. And, I knew they were right, deep down. It’s just…  

I guess I didn’t really wanna leave them. I’d been with them for so long, it felt like it had become a big part of me. Like I wouldn’t be the same pony if I was somewhere else. Though, at the same time, I also knew that I needed to leave. I kinda felt like being there was… 

Well, maybe ‘killing me’ is a touch grandiose? 

But then, is it? 

What even is it to be killed, to be alive? I guess there’s a comfort in living death. In limbo, in suspension. There’s a comfort in the assumption that you’re comfortable, to wear the clothes of someone happy and assume they’re yours even still in the dearth of any compelling reason why.

But there’s fear too, fear in allowing yourself to be comfortable. I should be working a good job, I should be living my best life, what if you’re comfortable not doing that? What does that make you? I know consciously that I forced myself to abandon that comfort, to affect the mindset that being there was killing me. 

And now I’m here. In an exciting place where I can make new friends, with a good job, where I can finally change. 

And, it’s a beautiful town. 

And I’m so far away from anything that reminded me of that suffocating, terrifying, hateful comfort that permeated my life. The acceptance of not allowing anything external to define you but your own contentment, even when you resent not being someone bigger and braver and you hate the fact that you don’t care...

Haha, why am I crying? 

Maybe…

I…

I think I should probably get some rest, and stop thinking about this.

I… it’s going to be a big day tomorrow...

So, today was my first shift! 

My first shift as a fully fledged librarian! It was great! I was so helpful. I had quite a few customers, more than I would have expected given the size of the town, and each one of them took out something. I made sure I was available for any questions, that I was polite and friendly. 

So I’d call that a resounding success, wouldn’t you? 

Oh, yeah, you’re a book. Maybe I’m just a little… starved of conversation, haha. 

Hmm. You know, it’s a good thing that this spell doesn’t record tone, otherwise you’d probably be able to hear I wasn’t being… entirely truthful. Which is strange because, why would I lie? You’re a book, nothing more. Maybe it’s something to do with that hope I keep returning to, that someday, someone other than me might read this and be inspired. 

But then, maybe it’s only to do with me? Maybe it’s the fact that when I read this back, I can pretend through the false tone that I was truly stimulated by conversation. That the day went perfectly. After all, what’s more important, how the day went or how you remember it later on? The memory can be something utilitarian. Is a lie that consoles not better than a truth that mocks you? 

I guess… what I’m saying is...

None of them talked to me. I mean, they said the odd thing. They made small talk with me. But the whole time it seemed like they were trying to avoid me. Like they’d consciously avoid making eye contact. 

I mean, It’s fine. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. Maybe they liked the old librarian a lot and just need some time to adjust. But… a town like this? I would have thought it was a place where everyone knew each other. All leaving doors unlocked and village fetes. It’s like, back in the city, there were tonnes of ponies everywhere, but I never really felt like I’d properly known any of them outside of my friends. 

Even though there aren’t even a hundredth of the amount of ponies here, I thought I’d have so much more chance to meet new friends. 

But no, they all just avoided me and… 

Well, I feel a bit crazy even saying it outloud but, like…

It seemed like they were looking at me. Not making eye contact, but waiting until I’d looked away and then peering over. I caught, or at least I think I caught, some of them turning back to their books the second I looked back in their direction. Like they were trying to stare at me in secret.

And, it makes sense I suppose. Once again, I am the new pony in town. Maybe they wanted to try to get the measure of me, maybe they just wanted a look. I mean, it could be that them not staring directly at me was them trying to not make me uncomfortable. It could very well be a good thing! 

It’s just… it didn’t really feel like a good thing. 

Anyway, blegh. Don’t wanna talk too much about the bad stuff on my first day, I’m sure it was nothing anyway. And there was plenty of good stuff too! 

No, the day was far from all bad actually! 

Work might not have been all I was hoping, but on the bright side, I think I’ve made a new friend after all! 

I went into the town centre to have a look at the markets. I’d seen them yesterday, but as it was Sunday they’d all been closed down. But today, it was so vibrant. The sheer colour of everything. The hollers and cries of all the traders, beckoning me and anyone else who could hear to choose to spend our bits with them.

It was busy, but it was nothing like the clamour of the city. There, it feels impersonal, random. Like we’re all simple particles in imprecise Brownian motion. But here, it’s calculated and organic. Here it was like we were all cells in an organism, ultimately independent but inherently steered towards the common goal of the market’s ecosystem. One pays, one buys, one is paid, and the next day everything continues again in earnest. 

Well, that was how it looked anyway. I think I’m still waiting to fully assimilate into the organism. I think that I might be a foreign body still. And what’s the word for that… 

Infection?

…

Anyway, I uh…

Hmm…

Someone came to talk to me while I sat at the fountain. For a moment I thought she might blind me. It was the sun’s glare reflected off her pale coat. Objectively, even in the most cold critical analysis, she was inarguably beautiful. And she was the sole pony out of the whole ecosystem to reach out and talk to me that day. 

To talk to me. 

Her name is Rarity. She was so nice! It was like she knew exactly what I needed, like she’d been able to identify I was a newcomer instantly. Thinking about it, she probably did. After we’d talked for a while, she said she’d come to the library to visit tomorrow! And when I watched her walk away after we were done, everyone had something to say to her. All the market stall owners called out in hello, everyone wanted to stop her for a chat. 

So yeah, the day didn’t have the best start. But if a pony like that, a pony that looks like she might be the heart, or brain considering how our talk went, of this system, wants to be friends with me? 

Not even considering the fact that they’d probably follow her lead, that if she came and spoke to me in the library, the others in there might open up too, it means it’s not fundamental. It means that I’m not just someone who’ll never fit in in this town, because she is part of the town. She seems like one of the parts of the town. 

And if one of the parts of the town is coming specifically to my library tomorrow, to specifically see me, doesn’t that mean I could one day be part of the town? Doesn’t that mean that, rather than infection, I could be transplant? I could be something new that assimilates, that improves the larger body? 

Haha, I don’t know, I’m rambling I guess. 

I was never really a biologist, in any case. The nuts and bolts of it always left me somewhat cold.

No, I’ve always been more at home with books, in books. I guess that’s left me with a tendency to dramatise. To see myself as a part of a story, hoping to be a protagonist in a world where everyone is their own protagonist but only a background character in the worlds of nearly everyone else. 

I don’t know what will happen after tomorrow, the world of stories would suggest it could be a turning point. But then, I’m not a biologist, I’m not a scientist. I don’t really think about things in total realism. ‘Crushing realism’ as I always described it. 

...still rambling though, haha. 

I guess those are all thoughts for tomorrow, we’ll have to see whether my life is gonna be fiction or non-fiction then. 

On a lighter note, I don’t think I’ve recorded it here yet! So, considering I’ve moved somewhere new with a new job, I thought I could do with a new hobby. You know, something to mark the change. 

I was considering trying something like painting, but honestly I've never been too good at that haha. Last thing this place needs is a bunch of terrible canvases done by yours truly. No, like I said, I'm someone who lives so much of their life in books. So, I thought to myself, why not try to write some of my own?

So, I've started writing poetry!