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// Chapter one: The Beginning 
// Story: The Heart of an Artist 
// by Starry Night writes 
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Art is not talent, and art is not simply something to do. Art is a manner by which one might express themselves, their desires, and their thoughts. The very inner workings of the mind might be revealed on page, in song, or through the masterful stroke of a brush on canvas. Art is not limited to any one person and art in itself can be expressed through various means.
Drama and music and writing and art become the media of the average pony in pursuit of a talent in one of these fields but what if the pony did not limit themselves to one aspect of Art, instead turning to many of them if only to discover the utter joy of writing or drawing or singing? 

The metal tip of my feathered quill hung over the paper, waiting to scratch a few more words on the page before another long pause. I surveyed the neat calligraphy, the stark contrast of black against white, and then laid the notebook containing the freshly penned words on my desk. The quill was returned neatly to its inkpot, my magical aura of a translucent white releasing its hold on all items previously in its grasp.

I retired to my bed, massaging my temples with my hooves as I tried to think, tried to find inspiration. I suffered writer’s block, a disease affecting the minds of literary artists everywhere. I not only found myself lacking in inspiration regarding writing, but also in drawing and painting. When I’d first moved to Ponyville I’d assumed a stark change of scenery would aid my ailments but there seemed to be little improvement. My efforts had only resulted in small drabbles similar to that which I’d just written, and any attempts to draw were out of the question as I had completely lost any motivation in that department.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I dismounted the bed, plucking my saddlebags from a chair nearby with a simple use of unicorn magic. They’d been nonchalantly discarded there earlier this morning after a visit to Sugarcube Corner for a quick cup of cocoa. The plain black bags settled on my back and in moments were filled with my notebook, sketchbook, and any other supplies necessary for the use of these. 

Perhaps a walk around the small town of Ponyville would clear my head and allow my thoughts to flow less like a whitewater river and more like a nice calm stream.

Time in places like Manehattan and Canterlot had made me wholly unused to simple living like that in Ponyville. The town, or more appropriately even, village, was a quaint place with an abundance of friendly faces. A walk around town was almost always a pleasant occasion for me and despite a complete lack of any friends here I still felt very welcome. 

I did have friends, ones I wrote to frequently, but recently I found myself lacking in anything interesting to say. I needed to introduce myself to somepony, befriend at least one or two of the ponies around town, but I was notoriously shy and offered naught but a few words in any case. My friends in other places had come to me and had introduced me to others. They were all interesting and had lives and special someponies. 

I myself was a blank flanked unicorn mare with next to no sense of ambition. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and I felt that my significant lack of a cutie mark attributed heavily to this fact. Ponies constantly surveyed my flank with a disapproving eye…Or, at least that was how I perceived the occasional stares. Lack of a cutie mark meant, in the eyes of some, lack of a purpose. I was already enough of an oddity with an abnormally long horn as well as a tail that was very…unique, even to unicorns, I didn’t need my unfortunately blank flank to add to my self-esteem issues.





Ponyville was just as alive as ever this afternoon, and this was no surprise. It was a beautiful day out. Celestia’s bright spring sun hung high above her citizens, bathing them in its warm golden rays. There was still a relative chill to the air. Winter had only been wrapped up about a week ago and the cold wind seemed reluctant to go. I seemed to be the only pony bothered by the cooler weather though, as I looked around to see every single pony lacking in any clothing that would keep them a little warmer.
My trot through Ponyville was not in vain, not a mere galavant. I meant to procure some lunch, perhaps at the Clover Café? They served my favorite daffodil and daisy sandwich, whose ingredients had just come into season. I was considering spoiling myself with hay fries and maybe a glass of cider. 

“Hey Star!” 

I started at the overenthusiastic greeting and turned my head to admit a pink blur into my line of my vision. I continued to trot on when I realized I’d stopped completely. “Pinkie Pie.” I offered, acknowledging the curly-haired earth pony. 

“Whatcha’ doing?” She questioned, literally bouncing along at my side, matching my pace perfectly. 

“I’m on my way to the Clover Café…I was going to get lunch.” I replied. Pinkie had become an acquaintance, but I knew she wanted to completely befriend me and I wasn’t about to stop her. “And I recall asking you to call me Night?” I added as a fleeting thought. My full name was Starry Night but I wasn’t fond of being addressed as anything besides Night. 

“Oh, right! I forgot about that! I think it’s those freckles you’ve got. They remind me of stars.” Pinkie informed me, earning a slight nod but nothing more. “Hey Night, I thought maybe you’d like to make some friends around here? My friend Rarity, she’s an artist to! She makes dresses and all kinds of other clothes and maybe you’d want to meet her?” The pink pony offered. 

I turned my attention wholly on her, pausing in my gait to consider her offer. 

A smile spread over my features as I nodded. “Yes Pinkie…I’d like that, thank you.” I told her. 

“Great! Just stop by Sugarcube Corner when you’re done with lunch and I’ll introduce you!” Pinkie replied, then bounded away. 

I watched her go and then returned my attentions to reaching the Café. 

After a quiet lunch I made my way to Sugarcube corner, pulling my sketchbook and pencil from my saddlebags. The hovered in the air before me as I put down a few lines, sketching the cute little shop quickly. The place looked as if it had been constructed purely of gingerbread and icing with, perhaps, the occasional pink embellishment. It was a perfect habitat for a pony like Pinkie to thrive in. 
The warm, sweet smells of baking treats met my nose as I neared the building, returning my sketchbook to the saddlebag as I trotted up the stairs and stepped through the door. It smelled better than anywhere else in here, and was even comparatively better to some of the bakeries in Manehattan and Canterlot. It was a Mom and Pop sort of place, and I felt that attributed to its quaint charm.

“Night!” Pinkie greeted, trotting up to me when she saw me. “Let’s go!” She said, stepping around me before she bounced out the door. 

I followed behind, completely oblivious as to where we were headed. The name of pony we were heading for tipped me off that she wasn’t like many of the other ponies. There was an elegance to the simple name of Rarity that reminded me of Canterlot and its high class society.  





The Carousel Boutique was a small shop in which the resident dressmaker of the town both worked and lived, and for that I envied her. It was a beautiful building, and it offered a start contrast to the more simplistic houses and shops filling the rest of Ponyville. This place looked as if it belonged more in a place like Canterlot, and I had a feeling that was the point.
“Rarity!” Pinkie called in a sing-song voice as she rang the bell outside. “Yes dear! I’m coming!” The voice behind the door had a certain accent to it, similar to that of somepony from Canterlot but clearly not entirely real. I prepared myself for the worst. Pinkie could befriend nearly anyone, so maybe she’d befriended some wanna-be Canterlotian.

The alabaster mare that answered the door was far from what I had expected. Her violet mane and tail were done in simple but elegant curls. She was perfectly groomed and a trinity of aquamarine jewels marked her flank. 

“Oh hello there, who is this?” She asked, seemingly addressing no one in particular. 

“I’m,” I began, but was quickly cut off. 

“This is Starry Night, she’s new in Ponyville and I’m helping her make new friends!” Pinkie said her typical enthusiastic manner. “I thought you two would like each other! Night here loooves art and I wanted to show her your boutique because you like to make things here!” She explained almost too quickly to understand.

“Ah, well, please do come in Night. I’d love to have a chat over tea if that’s alright with you.” Rarity said, having paused to take a moment to digest Pinkie’s words. 

I gave a small nod in return, “Yes, I’d like that.” I told her, stepping inside when she moved aside to let me in, watching as Pinkie left. 

I spent the rest of my afternoon in pleasant conversation with this unicorn who was almost completely consumed with designing and starting a dress for a customer. I found myself observing her creative process with an air of admiration and slightly jealousy. At least she had the inspiration to create while I wallowed in my own lack thereof. 

“Oh, I can’t help myself anymore.” Rarity sighed after a good amount of idle banter between us. “I must know dear. Is there a…special stallion here in Ponyville?” She asked. I looked up at her, confused. My pause elicited investigation and Rarity realized I had no idea what she meant. 

“What do you mean?” I asked with a frown and a tilt of my head.

“I mean…Oh I only want to know if you have a special somepony here.” She sighed. 

My eyes widened slightly, “And you want to know why?” I asked. 

“I can’t help myself. A bit of harmless gossip well…It never hurt anybody did it?” Rarity asked. “And I can’t help but think of a certain stallion who works at the Clover Café when I look at you. He’s very like you…” She trailed off.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Now I narrowed my eyes, feeling quite suspicious of this nosy unicorn.

“Well…He looks like you, particularly in the…Tail.” Rarity replied carefully. “And he doesn’t have a cutie mark.” She added, then went silent at the clearly offended look on my face. “Oh, sweetie I’m sorry. I just thought…” She trailed off, seeing that I clearly was not going to budge. 

“You know, I get a strong feeling that you’re trying to play matchmaker with me and this mysterious stallion, Rarity, but I don’t need you to help me and my sad little love life.” I snapped. I was through with my friends and family trying to find the ‘right pony for me’. I would find someone for myself if I felt it necessary, but right now was not the time to get into a relationship.

I had my doubts sometimes, saw a couple and felt a twinge of envy, but usually I was just fine by myself and I was socially awkward and anxious enough not to desire any interaction with many people, especially not a stallion.

“Are you sure?” Rarity asked, frowning. 

I sighed heavily, a cue that I was completely certain. 

“I think I’ll leave now.” I murmured, my white aura surrounding my saddlebags to levitate them over so they came to rest on my back. 

Rarity watched me leave, looking slightly distraught and very disappointed. 

There was no way I was going to let somepony hook me up on a blind date with a random stallion, even if he miraculously shared certain traits with me. I kicked a small stone across the lane, a defiant frown on my face. There was no way…