As the world once again rushed away, I find myself standing in the world of my creation, hoping only to stave off more serious destruction.
The library once agin stands perfectly still, and the outside world along with it. The deafening silence again returns, as though the world had been hushed by a mountain of snow.
Stillness.
Silence.
Spike stood, apparently shocked at what he saw. No matter how calm the world of time may have been when you left it, the change is stark, and instantly recognizable.
Spike began to wander, waving his clam through the air, as if testing waters he had already been submerged within.
Much like his mentor, he turns to me and opens his mouth as if to speak, only to meet silence. He tries again, seeming to yell, but again, not a peep.
I walk over to him, and seems afraid, confused.
I cannot comfort him with my words, or even explain what is going on, so I do the next best thing, and motion him downstairs.
He follows closely behind, until he sees Twilight, and quickly rushes up to her, shouting in silence. He remembers that he cannot be heard, and instead stand in front of her, flailing his arms frantically.
Twilight does not respond.
Just as he is about to poke her, I swat his claw away with my hoof, and shake my head at him.
He mustn't touch her, lest he injure her in any way, even by accident.
I levitate my sketchpad and pencil over and begin to write,
She can't see you, Spike. She, and the rest of the world are frozen in time.
I show him the pad and he gives me an almost quizzical look, as if to say 'how?' or perhaps even 'why?'
Once again I begin to write,
This is my special talent. I can create gaps between seconds in time, and move about freely. It's how I switched the books
Spike quickly reads, and then nods, but still seems remarkably confused. He grabs the pad and pencil from my aura, and begins to write himself.
How and why am I here?
I levitate the pad and pencil back,
The papercut I gave you, it won't heal outside of my gaps. If it never heals, it may eventually kill you.
Spike held up his thumb, the trickle of blood already beginning to slow scab. He once again licked his wound clean, and saw that already, it had stopped bleeding.
He held it up proudly and smiled, showing his cut had already closed.
I shook my head, we couldn't go back, not yet.
Spike raised his eyebrow and mouthed 'Why?'
I write again,
We cannot go back until the cut is completely healed, even if it has stopped bleeding, what you have now will stay with you forever.
As I show him the note, his jaw drops, and frantically he gabs the pad and scribbles,
That could take days!!
On the contrary, it will take no time at all.
He gives me a 'smart ass' look and rolls his eyes before once again writing,
Well, it'll feel like days, what should we do in the meantime?
Do?
I had always been quite content with 'doing' very little, if not nothing. In scale to some of my longer gaps, this would be extremely short. I felt as though we should simply sit and wait. The world outside my own moves so very fast, and it was exhausting. Did the dragon know nothing of calm? Sure, occasionally I would read within my gaps, or even draw, but more than anything else, I would simply sit. Think.
I suppose to those who dwelled solely within the rushing world, to do nothing was tedious, boring. Not because it was not enjoyable, simply because it was a waste of time.
And to normal ponies, time was very, very precious. You could tell how precious it was by the ways they measured it, clocks, timers and alarms, all built to keep ponies on time. Entire monuments and towers to keep entire cities on time. Alarms so ponies would not 'waste' their time with such necessary acts as sleeping.
They were always in a hurry, seeking to pack as much as possible into a day, then a week, a month, a lifetime.
Could they imagine a life without this rush? Likely not, as they were all weighed down by an inexorable knowledge...
The knowledge their time on this world was finite.
I was somewhat lifted from this burden. Through my gift I had found never a need to hurry, or rush. I had all the time in the world at my disposal, what concerns did I have of being late or early? I had no watch, nor calendar, for to measure my life seemed not to live it.
But I knew I could not live eternally. I knew that every gap must close, and a new second must come to pass, then a minute, then a day. There was a reason Celestia limited each day, and reasons our lives must be finite.
For as I have seen in myself, to live forever would be the most horrendous waste of all, as every life must be limited.
This is what makes our time so precious.
I suddenly notice that Spike has vanished. I was so accustomed to being able to dwell within my own thoughts without external interaction that I had forgotten his presence. I look around the library, only to discover the door had been left open.
I can only he hope he has not changed anything yet.
As I gallop out the door, I quickly find him standing in the town square, making strange faces at the many townsfolk, then silently laughing.
I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful he has not yet found his way into a more troublesome predicament.
I gallop towards him, making sure he does not wander off again, and nudge him back to the library.
His face shows annoyance, but I do not yet know the damage I may cause, and I hope never to find out.
As we return to the library, I again inspect his finger. Curiously, it seems to have healed almost completely.
Spike seems confused by this fact as well, but quickly shrugs, mouthing something before flexing and smiling proudly.
I do not know if this is the work of the gaps, or if dragon scales simply heal more quickly than pony flesh, but whatever the reason, I am glad the wound is gone.
Do you feel any pain? I write, and he simply shakes his head 'no'.
Is it sensitive at all? He prods his cut with another finger, bending it a few times, and again, shakes his head 'no'.
Then hold on.
And the world comes rushing back.