//------------------------------// // 4. Letters // Story: Dysphoria, Arc 1: Introductions // by thedarkprep //------------------------------// 4. Letters A couple of days had passed since Script moved into his new place. The house, certainly had adopted his personality, having a ‘lived-in’ feel that had been missing when he first arrived. What few belongings he had had were stored, the new things he had bought had been used, and while still tidy, each of the rooms had one of those requisite messes necessary to make a house a home (a scarf out of place here, a pillow on the floor there, etc…). His bag had been stored away in his closet for safekeeping. In his living room, there was a trashcan overflowing with broken envelopes. The chair next to it had a stack of neatly folded letters. In the room there was also a table on which rested one envelope and one letter, separate from the rest. In front of it, there was a couch and it was on this couch that Script could be found lying down, lost in his thoughts. Script was trying to calm his feelings, or at the very least understand them, neither of which he was having good luck with. Life was moving too fast and he was having trouble keeping up. As they say, change begets change, and no place was this more evident than in Ponyville. Ever since he arrived he found surprises around every turn, all of which firmly and consistently put him out of his comfort zone. Meeting Applejack for example, the pony that saved his life, begat a strange dynamic indeed. She was the first mare he saw in Ponyville, the one that saved him and the first one to ask about him. The first one he lied to. Through that entire conversation he got the feeling that she knew he was lying, as if she could somehow sort honesty and deceit like they were physical things rather than the abstract ideas they represent. And yet, though she knew he was lying, she didn’t question it; she let things be, and she put her trust on him. It made him appreciate her even more. Then there was Pinkie, the Pony who didn’t ask questions and yet seemed to know everything about him already. Well, not everything… she wouldn’t be as friendly if she did. That was a chilling thought, a non-friendly Pinkie. No, it’s impossible; somehow, even if she knew, she’d still be there with that smile and her laugh. It’s in her character; it’s who she is. Still, better not to risk it. Script looked at the letters on the chair, each neatly folded after having been read, each from a pony welcoming him with open hooves to their community. Despite his weird behavior and despite Pinkie having called off the party, they all still wanted to meet him. Some wrote on their letters that they understood where he was coming from, and that they hoped he’d pay them a visit when he’s well and ready. They shared things about themselves in the letters, their likes and dislikes, a bit of their history, and an invitation to be friends. They all seemed genuinely excited to meet him. “Ponyville is such a wonderful place,” he thought to himself. He had never met such welcoming ponies or such a vibrant town. He knew now, if he hadn’t been sure before, that he didn’t want to leave this town. It was slowly but surely becoming home. And yet… Script sat up, physically shaking his head as if that could dispel his thoughts. He knew he should be happy: he could relax here, make a life here. Still, he couldn’t shake the cloud of worry that plagued his mind. As much of a home as this was becoming, he was still hiding. As much as the friendship of these ponies had helped heal him, new wounds arrived with his nighttime dreams. He shook his head again, trying to derail his train of thought, but it continued undeterred. Fear and anxiety gripped at him, and as much as he slowed his breathing, his heart rate sped up faster and faster. He loved this new life he had crafted for himself, he loved this town, and he loved his new friends. But the truth was that all that could be shattered in a matter of days, if not hours. It had happened before, and he knew how easily he could be ripped out from a life he enjoyed. He could not postpone the source of his worry any longer. “Ponyville is such a wonderful place,” he thought to himself, “and yet…” He stared at the letter on the table. “Even here there is danger.” He had not read the letter itself, just the first two lines, but those lines gave him all the information he needed to know about the writer and the danger they posed to him. The fear that letter instilled in him crippled him now as it had when he had first opened it, forcing him to stay at home where he was safe. However, this time he was not going to let fear win. “When fear forces you to play it safe, you have to take a few risks,” he muttered to himself before exiting the room leaving the letter and the envelope on the table. The letter itself was written on some scroll paper in fine handwriting. The first two lines said: Hello, and welcome to our little town of Ponyville. My name is Twilight Sparkle.