Author's Note: This is a joke fiction meant to be a celebration of me gaining over 300 followers on FiMFiction. Do not take this story seriously. Please, don't. Your brain cells will die a little if you do.
---- Sunshine and Celery... Stalkers?----
He sat in near-darkness, as he always did when he contemplated the massive stream of constantly flowing ideas that was contained inside his mind. The small stub of a once-whole candle sat before him, his eyes reflecting the dancing flame as he looked into its depths. Without warning, it flickered and died, leaving the pegasus in the darkness with his wings wrapped around himself. “Time to write.” His slightly deep voice was seemingly lost in the black as he slowly stood. Walking over to the switch that controlled his overhead lamp, he stopped and felt along the wall before flicking it upward with snap. He blinked away the blue-green slashes that the sudden lighting brought to his vision and slowly cantered over to his desk.
Lifting his wing to his mouth, he gripped one of the soft, blue feathers in his teeth and pulled. When he had been asked by one pony some time ago the reason he wrote with his own feathers, he had given him a simple answer. “Why wouldn’t I write my stories with a part of myself?”
Wincing as the stiff tool of flight came free of his wing, he set the newly made utensil of writing down on the tabletop. He reached down and opened the drawer that held his ink, whose black marks upon paper formed themselves into other worlds with ease. The medium-sized bottle clunked on the wood as he set it neatly down next to the blue primary. “Now, for the topping ingredient.” He chuckled to himself as he related his job to that of a baker, reaching into another compartment of the desk where his paper, the soil where the seeds of his imagination were sown, lay hidden away from prying eyes.
Or it would be hiding, if he had any left.
His hoof frantically scrabbled along the bottom of the paper drawer, unable to find the reassuring sound of paper being touched. “Oh, don’t tell me I ran out of paper again.” He took out the offending compartment and turned it upside down, frowning when nothing but dust drifted down to the floor. “This always happens! I just bought some yesterday!” Shaking his head, he kicked over the overflowing bin that set next to his chair, the crumpled balls of paper skipping along the ground as the force of his anger sent them flying. “Oh buck all, I don’t get why I run out so fast!” The blue pegasus stomped over to his front door and pulled on his saddlebags, blue to match his coat, that sat next to the gateway into the outer world. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he stepped out into the town of Ponyville.
He dodged around the bags of plastic that encased more of the failed attempts at worlds of ink, eventually breathing easy whenever he made it into one of the main streets that weaved through Ponyville. “All right, now where’s that market?” He ignored the few ponies that pointed one direction and stared at him with confusion, for he thought that the question had been only in his mind. “Ah yes, this way.” He then turned and trotted off in the direction opposite of the Ponyville Marketplace, humming to himself.
After what felt like hours, he finally found his destination. “Man, it seems to get farther and farther away each time. Maybe that’d be an interesting story… ‘The Ponyville Market’.” He waved his hooves in the air before turning to one of the passerby. “What do you think of it?”
“About my idea?”
“Look, buddy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just here to buy some food not to hear stories.” Shaking his head bewilderedly, the earth pony that Chaotic had been talking to backed away wearily before turning and galloping down the road.
“Wait! You didn’t tell me your opinion!” He futilely followed the fleeing pony for a few moments before giving up his chase. “Bah, fine. I didn’t care anyway, it was a stupid idea.” Mentally crumpling the page of nonexistent paper, he focused back on the reason he had stepped out amongst the crowds of Ponyville in the first place. “Paper. I need paper.”
No sooner did he say that than did he bump into the town’s librarian, Twilight Sparkle. The studious (and attractive in a nerdish sort of way) mare fell down with a breathy “Oof”, the books that she had been levitating alongside her falling to the ground with thuds that sounded like the earth quaking in displeasure. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was busy reading this intriguing story and I didn’t see you there!” Of course, as she was saying all this she was frantically levitating each of her books into a pile that floated a few feet off the ground.
“Oh?” The blue pegasus cocked his head as he handed her another book, which was whisked out of his hoof by a sheet of purple magic. “What story might that be?”
The librarian, suddenly excited to have another reader interested in her passion, pulled from the middle of the pile a surprisingly small paperback. “Oh, it’s this one! It’s called A Change of Heart. It’s a really good look into how the, get this, the changelings feel about their life!”
Smiling to himself, he simply supplied a word. “And?”
“Well, it is a really nice love story too, underneath it all. I guess I can’t real—“
He held up a hoof and waved it at her. “Let me guess, the characters’ names are Needle Wings and Cherish, correct?”
“Well, yes… but how did you know?” The mare peered at him suspiciously for a moment.
“Look here.” Taking her book, he flipped over to the back where the About the Author section was located. “Chaotic Harmony, a dark-blue pegasus with a silver mane…” Turning the book around so she could look, he put on a pose that his semblance did in the inside cover of the novel. “Look like anypony?”
“That’s you? You wrote this?”
“Well, in taking a line from Big Macintosh Apple, ‘eeyup’.” Suddenly in the next moment he was staggering backward from where he had been standing, nearly falling over with the weight of the mare that had tackled him in a hug. “Um… glad you liked it?”
“Oh, thank you for writing that!” Her purple hooves tightened their hold continuously until he finally managed to break away gasping. The lavender unicorn had looked at him quizzically before blushing furiously. “Oops… Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Now, if you’ll excuse me I require more paper upon which to write my stories. Good evening, Twilight Sparkle.” He waved jovially at her before turning around and walking further into the maze of stalls. After some time of walking, he couldn’t shake the feeling of something or somepony following him. Unable to stand the sensation of unease, he whipped around to find the librarian standing close behind him. “Oh! Um… Hello again, Twilight. Can I… erm… help you with something?”
She smiled widely at him and shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
“Okay then.” He turned once more and continued to walk, nearly groaning aloud as the sound of stepping hooves and soft whispers started up immediately behind him. “Can I help you?” He found himself glaring into a crowd of nearly twenty ponies. “Um... You all?”
As one, the entire group shook their heads. “Nope!” They chorused as one, smiling vacantly at him as he backed away from them slowly.
“All right then… Well, bye.”
“See ya, Chaotic!” He felt a thrill of shock flow through his body as the group of ponies called him by name, but he walked on as if it didn’t faze him. After a few minutes of walking with the steady tempo of sounds that came from the group of ponies behind him, he began tossing glances over his shoulder. Sure enough, every time he took in the crowd, he saw one or two more faces that he only barely recognized. As one, again, the group waved to him with those strange smiles set into their faces.
He waved back with uncertainty before making his way over to the market stand that held what he sought. “Heya there, Chaotic! Out of paper already, eh?” The pony minding the stand smiled in a knowing-way before pushing himself to his hooves. “Well, I got your usual already set up. And—“ His eyes widened as he took in the now-gargantuan mob that followed the blue pegasus. “Um… Chaot—“
“I know. Just give me the paper please.” With the heavy boxes shoved into his saddlebags, the writer began walking home. Behind him, the sounds of at least three hundred walking ponies blocked out any other noise that made any attempt at reaching his ears. He walked at the same pace all the way to his small house, ignoring the confused glances of the passerby. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the heat from rising to his face. The slightly cracked door slammed against the wall as he kicked it open, venting some of his frustration on the poor piece of wood. He slipped off the heavy saddlebags full of paper before walking over to his one window, where the faces of his entourage were pressed up against the glass, and pulling the blinds shut.
Sitting down in the middle of his room again, he lit another candle that had come from his pantry and sighed. “Feathering stalkers.”