One: The Library
By MrAnderson92
It had been two years since my accident. I had spent the first year in physical therapy, making sure no permanent damage had been caused. Except, of course, my eyesight. That was the first thing the doctors had told me once I had stabilized.
I will never use my eyes again.
I was devastated. Without my eyes, my cutie mark was essentially useless. My cutie mark consisted of a four-pointed, midnight blue compass with stars dotting the inside of it. But one had to look very close to see the stars. My special talent was astronomy. I loved looking at the stars. At no time in my life was I happier or more at peace than when I was outside, stargazing through my telescope. But that pleasure will be lost to me forever now. I broke down, tears shamelessly flowing down my face as I turned my face towards the window, feeling the cool sunlight of the summer evening upon my brow.
I'll never see the sky again.
I'll never again look at clouds and laugh at the shapes they are in.
I don't quite remember what happened during that first year. I was empty inside. I felt as if there was nothing left to live for.
I wished that I had died in the stampede.
My parents were there constantly. Which was worse than it sounds. They kept telling me cheap clichés about how life is going to get better. Of course it was. But right now nothing they could say could make me feel better.
So I went through my days blindly, both physically and emotionally.
Once the physical therapy was over, I was given the O.K. to return to my house. My parents were overjoyed to have me back home. They threw a huge party and invited practically all of our family members to welcome me back. Of course, I only had their word that they did. I, for all intents and purposes, was emotionally dead. I started crying again as I couldn't even get around my house without running into tables or walls.
Finally, I had enough.
I sat down where I was and yelled in frustration, scaring my relatives that were near me. I curled up into a ball, and quietly sobbed, not caring what else happened.
Once I was all cried out, I slowly got to my hooves and asked if somepony could help me to my room. Immediately somepony was there (my mother, I believe) and in a short while I was climbing into my bed, whispering a thank you to my parents as they wished me good night.
I don't know if they heard me.
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About a week went by where I stayed in my room, the one place I knew well enough to not stumble into anything. I passed the time by attempting to do things that I had liked to do before my accident, and trying to adapt to my new situation to continue enjoying those activities.
It didn't go well.
How am I supposed to write when I can't tell where the paper is?
How am I supposed to read when I don't understand, or even have any books in, braille?
How do I stargaze without my sight..?
The one thing I discovered I could still enjoy on my own was my favorite book, "The Night Watcher's guide to the Galaxies." It was this book that spurred me into taking up stargazing in the first place when I was just a foal. My elder brother, Gears (He's an inventor) gave it to me for my sixth birthday, claiming that if anyone could read it at my age, it would be me.
I was an avid reader when I was young. It stayed with me until I lost my sight.
And so I read it. And I read it again. And again. Until I finally understood what it was telling me.
It was the biggest challenge I had faced yet. And I was only six years old.
"The Night Watcher's guide to the Galaxies." was the first, and only, book that I had even bothered with memorizing each and every word inside its silver cover.
How ironic is it that the one book I could still read was about stargazing?
Fate is often cruel.
I was 'reading' that very book, when one of Gears' inventions went haywire, making an incredible wail as it sparked a fire on the upper floors of our house. The sound was too intense for my extra-sensitive ears, and as such I felt my concentration wither away, and with it, my magic hold on the guide.
That's when I discovered another use for my magic.
As soon as I felt my magic release its hold on the guide, I dove forward trying to catch it, desperately casting my magic out in all directions to make sure it didn't fall on the ground.
That book was my prized possession.
Miraculously, I dove straight into the trajectory of the falling book, and caught it in my outstretched hooves.
Even more miraculously, I saw a clear, albeit undetailed, picture of my room inside my head.
I lay there on the floor, still holding the guide, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Placing the book on the desk I knew was right in front of me, I cast my magic out in front of me again, only to be rewarded with a very undetailed picture of my desk, with the guide barely discernable atop of it.
I could use my magic to get a picture of what I'm looking at! Like echolocation!
I felt the corners of my mouth twitch upward in a small smile. I also began to cry.
I haven't smiled since before my accident. Why smile when you can't see the effects it has on others?
I turned towards my door, and flared my magic up again. Seeing that my door was partially ajar, I nudged it wide open and continued down the hallway towards our stairs, constantly flaring my magic to 'see' where I was going.
The stairs proved difficult to maneuver down, but I eventually got it.
I was home alone, everypony else being at work. Gears may have been at home, but for all intents and purposes I was supposed to pretend he wasn't. I used my magic to pour myself a glass of water, fully appreciating what I was doing.
I was being independent. Maybe in the smallest way, but it was a start.
I had to grow my power. I had to 'see' more. I needed more detail.
Maybe I could stargaze once again. But it won't be easy.
It's never easy.
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I left my house, walking slowly down the street towards the library, hoping to check out a book on braille.
I heard exclamations all around me as I continually flashed my magic up, to get images of where I was going and to make sure I wasn't going to run into anypony.
To make a long story short, I made it to the library without any hassle.
I walked into the library, and started walking over to the non-fiction section, when I realized I didn't know where precisely the braille books would be. So I stopped in my tracks, and listened intently, hoping to locate the librarian. Off to one side of the non-fiction section, I could barely make out an incessant murmuring.
I decided to check it out.
I walked over to where the noise was coming from, and found that it wasn't the librarian, who was a tall, older unicorn, but rather a young unicorn, slightly shorter than myself, and a short little....dragon?
Who the hay has a dragon?
This young unicorn mare (For mare she was) was dictating the titles of books to the dragon, who was proceeding to write down the names, and then proceed to add said book to an enormous pile sitting in a wagon next to them.
Unless things had changed drastically since the last time I was here, she was not the librarian.
I was preparing to walk up to her and introduce myself, planning on asking of the whereabouts of the librarian, when she suddenly turned and briskly walked right past me and out of the library, the little dragon following her as fast as his short legs could carry him.
I gasped loudly, as the mild scent of lavender washed over me as she passed by.
I felt my mind begin to shut down.
I turned and ran blindly after her, all of my focus on trying to meet this mare.
But fate took a turn for the cruel yet again, as I ran straight into the librarian.
What was I thinking? I didn't know anything about her! Hay, she was probably barely older than a filly.
But then again, so was I. As I picked myself up and apologized to the librarian for knocking him over, I vowed myself that I would find her again.
No matter what the cost.