He slid to a stop, digging his hooves into the ground as hard as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as a shower of dirt and debris rain down onto the whitewater river far below, roaring hungrily. He did not have any chance to even feel shock at how close he had come to dying before his thoughts were broken with vicious, remorseless laughter. "Watch your step!" his opponent taunted, lashing out with his otherworldly tentacles of dark energy.
He ducked and jumped, just barely dodging the percussive strikes. One caught him on the face, and he sucked his teeth as he felt warmness dripping down his face. He clamped a hoof over his new injury, and his opponent cackled evilly, "You see now?" he asked in a maniacal voice, "You have no power here!"
He ignored his taunts, and took his hoof off of his face to inspect it. Shiny, and wet. He felt a cold chill pass through his body, which was quickly replaced with a raging fury. At the sight of his own blood, he snapped. His pupils dilated, his heart rate rose, his breathing became heavy, and he felt untapped power surge through his body.
He looked his grotesque opponent in the eye, absorbing every detail; his cracked violet eyes, his twisted, crooked smile, his sickeningly pure mane, and the all encompassing darkness seeping out of the rupture in his back, where several dark tentacles were rooted, some holding him high in the air, and others waving about, preparing to strike again.
"I've won," his opponent insisted, smiling all the while, "It's over!" he continued his maniacal, twisted cackling, echoing throughout the cavern which housed the two, travelling up and down the multitude of possible passageways.
He breathed heavily, clenched his teeth, and began speaking, any injury forgotten, "I...have lived a long life," he huffed slowly, "And I've seen quite a few...gods in my day. Fake gods, real gods, would-be gods, parasite gods, and you," he smiled knowingly, to the confusion of his opponent, "You are none of them."
The smile on his opponent's face faded, and was slowly replaced with a vicious, menacing snarl, "I am a god, you worthless piece of filth! The laws of time and space bend to my will, and are mine to control! This world will end in darkness, and I will build upon the ashes a glorious new age, where I rule! Everything will burn, and you will be the first!" His tentacles lashed out, whipping towards him.
But because he had gotten his opponent angry, he was unfocused, and he didn't have to exert much force to dodge his strikes. He landed deftly, ignoring the shower of rubble caused by the wildly flailing tentacles smashing into the rock wall behind him. He smirked as if the attack was pitiful, and continued, "But, you see, you're really not. You're just a regular old pony who ran into something...otherworldly."
His opponent screamed, shaking the cavern, "This is my destiny!" he wailed. His tentacles wavered, and he swung wildly through the air.
"That much is certain," he conceded, "This world just isn't big enough for the two of us. One of us will leave this place today, and with them, they'll carry the fate of the world on their shoulders." He assumed a fighting stance, standing solid and comparatively small towards his opponent. "You think you're strong enough to carry a world?"
"I am!" his opponent screamed, "I have power like you wouldn't believe! I can see the turn of the universe, and the planets move to my will!"
He merely smirked, letting his true power come to the surface. Wind whipped around his body and through his mane, and he began glowing in a holy light, "We'll see about that," he said, feeling the energy surge through his veins. He took a step back, and
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Chocolate Milk jumped at his alarm clock, which had broken the pristine silence he had held while writing. Turning away from his typewriter, he switched the alarm off, sighing in relief that the auditory assault had been vanquished. He then opened his eyes and looked at the time. 8:00.
His eyes widened in shock. "No..." he breathed, and just to be sure, leapt from his chair and ran to the kitchen to check that clock. Sure enough, it was 8:00. He had been up all night, a solid eight hours straight, writing. "Oh biscuits," he muttered, and went to his bathroom to shower, dearly hoping he wouldn't fall asleep in class. Again. He bathed as quick as he possibly could (ten minutes), and grabbed a pitiful breakfast of a serving of chips and an energy drink. He stuffed the horribly unhealthy meal down his throat, at the same time pulling a green sweater on over his light brown fur, which almost looked like chocolate milk. Except chocolate milk had an oblique tone to it, and his fur had more of a light sheen. Obvious difference.
He picked up his saddlebags, mentally flipping through the homework he didn't do the night before, and left his humble Canterlot apartment. The outside world was a very blurry place, and Chocolate suddenly realized he had forgotten his glasses. He turned back around to go and get them, only to have his doorknob shake stubbornly in place. Once again, he had forgotten that the stupid door opened from the inside at all times, even when the outside knob was locked. He heavily rested his head against the door with a resounding thump. Today was already a bad day.
After a short period of self loathing, he finally picked himself up and headed down the steps to the ground floor, squinting as hard as he could to avoid running into signs. He slowly made his way down the street, trying to reach the bus station which would take him to his classes, but after three times bumping into mailboxes and twice holding an apologetic conversation with a sign, he had only gotten half the three block distance to the bus stop.
Luckily, being the clever little pecker he was, he thought of something he could do. From memory he knew that there was a little shop somewhere on this street, and maybe they had something he could use. He made his way to the store as quick and as relatively painless as he could, though he did stumble more than once. He made his way into the shop and squinted, scanning the small collection of shelves. Bingo. He walked over and picked up a cheap pair of reading glasses and put them on. The world wasn't crystal clear, but he could at least read the text on the far wall, so they were good enough. He took them off and sighed; if only they weren't circular frame, Ben Franklin style glasses. Nevertheless, he carried them over to the cashier and set them down.
The cashier, a surly stallion who looked like he would rather be off punching something, rang up the glasses, "Five bits," he said.
"Five bits!" Chocolate repeated incredulously, "I could eat lunch for a week with that!"
The cashier just looked at him, "Where are you eating lunch?"
Chocolate Milk hesitated, then lowered his head and muttered, "College," and pulled the money out for the hideously overpriced eyewear.
The cashier took the money and pressed a few buttons on the register, eliciting a few dings. Then he moved to put the glasses in a bag, but Chocolate stopped him, "That's okay, I'll, uh, I'll just take them as is."
The cashier shrugged like he couldn't care less, "Fair enough," he said, and turned away to attend to some other business, effectively dismissing Chocolate Milk.
He nodded awkwardly and took the glasses, putting them on just in time to slam into the one-way opening glass door. Falling away and grumbling to himself, he yanked the door open and headed out, continuing his much more difficult than necessary trek to the bus stop, already spent for the day.
After a short, awkward wait with a quiet old lady who was far too interested into his personal affairs, the bus finally arrived and Chocolate Milk hopped on board. Crowded as usual, Chocolate settled into place on his hooves, clutching the bar overhead. He looked down at the dirty carpet; it was adorned with various graphics of buses, and he focused on one in particular. A simple drawing of a little yellow bus, which had the word "away" on the sign atop the windshield.
For a moment, he was completely absorbed in the insignificant graphic, contemplating what it meant. Somepony, somewhere, had drawn that bus, and now it had reached the floor of the bus which he rode. He wondered what kind of life that pony had lived, if he was even still alive. And who was to say it was a he? Chocolate knew absolutely nothing about this pony, he didn't know their hopes, their dreams, their first date, their first job, what school they went to, what sort of friends they might've had, what kind of pony they could have been, or where they were now, even if it was the grave. The only thing they had left behind, the only thing Chocolate Milk could have possibly known for sure about this unknown pony, was the fact that at one point in their life they drew that little picture of a bus. They only legacy they had left behind out of their entire life that Chocolate Milk could ever hope to find out about them was this little graphic of a bus on the carpet beneath his hooves.
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts about the drawing of a bus on the floor that when the brakes were applied he went flying, nearly bowling over the ponies in front of him. Catching himself before he was fully sprawling, and apologizing incessantly to the pony he had almost ran headlong into, he made his way to the front of the bus; this was his stop.
After a moment of burning inside at his own awkwardness outside the bus, Chocolate Milk continued on his way to the college, returning to his private thoughts, though paying more attention to his surroundings. Was it weird for such thoughts to come out of something as insignificant as the pattern on a bus's carpet? Was he weird for his mind to have made such connections? Well, he was already weird, no doubt about that, but didn't anypony else think about things like that? From his own observations, only on occasion; if they were drunk, menstruating, or having a moment of serious thought. Chocolate Milk was none of these things, and nevertheless he thought about stuff like this. All the time, even.
He looked up to find he had arrived at his college, and made his way through a field of students outside the big, brick building. Some classmates of his greeted him, and Chocolate politely nodded or greeted them in turn, but he didn't stop, walking right up to the front doors of the building, "effortlessly" scaling the wide stone steps. After just a bit of heavy breathing, he opened the doors and headed inside, making his way to his first class.
He opened the doors to the lecture hall and chose his usual seat. He was the first one there, as usual. And why should he not be? He didn't have anywhere else to be. He set up his little station, pulling out some necessary papers and unfinished homework and spreading them out on the table in front of him. He could have worked on the homework-the professor would probably call for it today-but he felt that he deserved a break at least once that morning. Not to mention the fact that he was bone tired from having stayed up all night. He stacked up the papers, tapping them square and setting them aside, and put his head on the desk, just planning to rest his eyes.
A loud thwack caused Chocolate Milk to jump back, nearly tipping over in his chair in his sudden awakening. His professor was standing above him, holding the rule he had struck the desk with, "If you don't mind, Mister Milk," he said sweetly in his gruff voice, "We'd like to get started now."
Chocolate Milk nodded, picking up his papers and resorting them, looking around to find the entire hall had been filled while he slept.
His professor, a grey haired pony who had been around the block a few times and just wanted to have a little fun with his job nowadays, smiled insincerely and whispered, "Thank you," he then spun on his hoof and went back down to the floor of the lecture hall, returning to his teaching. Chocolate Milk began taking notes, ignoring the giggles and happy murmurs at his expense behind him.
One horridly tedious lecture on the usage of rhetoric in advertisement later, the students were released for lunch, and Chocolate Milk made his way to the college cafeteria. Just his luck, he had spent all his money on the ridiculous glasses that barely helped at all, and didn't have enough for lunch. Ignoring the loud protests of his stomach, he settled down in his usual seat and pulled out some homework that he really needed to finish, not even bothering to try the first problem before he put his head on the table, sighing in resignation.
His usual tablemates made their respective ways to the seats around him. Isaac, a loud, friendly pony who spoke with his mouth full, sat down next to him with a tray so full you couldn't even see the tray anymore, "Hey," he greeted. Chocolate Milk rose his head to nod and then set it back down, and Isaac continued, "Woah, dude, nice glasses," he chuckled, "You lose a bet?"
Chocolate let out a smile and a huff of laughter, then explained, "No, I just, well, accidentally locked my glasses in my apartment, along with my keys," he pulled off the reading glasses and inspected them, "These are just regular reading glasses I picked up on the way to school."
Isaac nodded, "Nice," and went back to his meal.
Roseluck sat down across from Chocolate Milk, "Hey!" she greeted warmly, "Did you finish it?"
Chocolate let out a laugh at her enthusiasm, but before he could answer, Isaac mumbled loudly around a large bite of hay sandwich, "Finish what?"
"It's nothing," Chocolate immediately insisted.
"Don't downplay it so much!" Roseluck chastised, then turned to Isaac and explained, "Chocolate's writing a book!"
"A book?" Isaac confirmed, finally swallowing his food, "what about?"
"It's nothing special," Chocolate said, looking at his friend. Isaac was an earth pony with golden fur, an unruly scarlet mane, and blue eyes. His Cutie Mark was a sword; he was a metalworking major. He might've been handsome in some sense, but Chocolate Milk couldn't really comment on that. By contrast, Chocolate Milk was a pegasus with brown fur, brown eyes, a brown mane, and his Cutie Mark was a feather in an inkwell, signifying writing. Roseluck was an earth pony as well, with pale yellow fur, chartreuse eyes and a vermillion mane. Her Cutie Mark was a rose; she was a botany major.
"Would you shut up?" Roseluck asked playfully, "It is special!"
Chocolate smiled and moved his brow, "Um, thanks?" he said, laughing at her odd choice of words.
Roseluck giggled, "Shut up! You know what I meant!"
Isaac, still chewing indifferently away at his food, interjected, "So what's it about?"
Chocolate rolled his head side to side modestly. He hated talking about his own writing. Anything of his, really; he still even had trouble telling people his favorite kinds of music. "It's, like, this fantasy story about this guy, who's, like, the protector of the world, kind of thing, and he, like, takes on this apprentice who ends up betraying him," he explained awkwardly, "you know."
Isaac nodded, swallowing his food to put emphasis on his next words, "Dude. Boss." Chocolate smiled and laughed at his seriousness.
Roseluck reiterated her original question, "So did you finish?"
Chocolate shook his head, "no, not yet," he confessed.
Roseluck fell back in a mock pout, then broke it with a smile, "Will you work on it tonight? I really want to read it!"
Chocolate sighed, "I don't know; I didn't get any sleep last night. Like, at all. Literally, none. Like, you know how they say, 'I didn't get any sleep' when they actually mean they had trouble falling asleep? I literally got no sleep-"
"Okay, okay! I get it!" Roseluck laughed, then calmed down and said, "You don't have to tonight if you don't want to..."
Chocolate looked at her. She was wearing a fake pout, puppy dog eyes, the whole nine yards. He looked at her for just a few seconds, then couldn't bear it anymore and sighed, "Alright, fine, I'll do a little writing tonight-a little."
Roseluck immediately brightened up and clapped a little, "Yay!" and finally went back to her meal.
Chocolate looked at his homework once more, then shook his head and packed it away, giving up on it. He then smiled when he remembered the thing he had been planning to say about now, "Hey, I heard a joke the other day,"
Isaac immediately groaned; Chocolate had a reputation for being a bad joke/pun lover. He ignored Isaac and set up the joke, "What did the older chimney say to the younger chimney?"
Roseluck shook her head and shrugged.
"You're too young to smoke," Chocolate zinged. Isaac let out a drawn out "Haaa" of forced laughter, while Roseluck was honestly giggling into her hooves. Chocolate smiled too, but only because he had made Roseluck laugh, and he knew Isaac would be telling that joke later at basketball practice.
Isaac, rolling his eyes, asked, "So dude, are you eating or what?"
Chocolate Milk shook his head, "I'm not hungry," he lied. His stomach immediately roared to life, doing a fine job of demonstrating the mating call of the beluga whale, which contradicted himself. Isaac laughed. Roseluck giggled.
"Why didn't you get anything?" Isaac asked.
Chocolate took off the Ben Franklin reading glasses, "Spent all my money on these cheap glasses," he explained, "Didn't want to, but without 'em I'd be as blind as a bat."
"Aww," Roseluck said sympathetically. She got up and said, "Here, I'll buy you something."
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," chocolate said quickly.
"It's okay," Roseluck assured, "I just got paid the other day," and she began walking towards the line, then stopped and asked, "What do you want?"
Chocolate was about to tell her to stop, but he was really hungry, so hesitantly, he said, "Anything's fine." Roseluck nodded and walked off.
Chocolate Milk watched her walk away. Her tail swished side to side rhythmically, like it was made out of water. Isaac suddenly broke into his thoughts, saying, "Dude, you like Roseluck."
Chocolate whipped his head around at him. His tray had been reduced to a pile of wrappers, and he was looking at Chocolate with a knowing smile on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked flatly.
"Don't think I don't notice the way you and her are," Isaac chastised, "I may have only met you just this year, but dude, I know what I'm seeing here."
Chocolate rolled his eyes, "You're crazy," he concluded, shaking his head dismissively.
"How long did you stay up last night?" Isaac interrogated.
Chocolate rose a brow curiously, "all night," he answered.
"And were you writing this whole time?"
"Yeeees," Chocolate answered carefully.
"Were you writing for Roseluck?" Isaac concluded.
Chocolate looked at him, "Isaac, I have absolutely no interest of pursuing any romantic relationship of any kind."
"Well, why not?" Isaac asked.
"I'm a little deficient in a specific area," Chocolate said ambiguously.
Isaac rose his brow, "What area?"
Chocolate Milk gestured to his face, "This area."
Isaac let out a few chortles at that, then calmed down and continued, "Hey, but I bet Roseluck likes you too," he sang.
Chocolate let out a huff of forced laughter, "Ahuh, ahuh, ahuh. No she doesn't, Isaac, we're just friends." Chocolate rolled his eyes, "You don't know what you're talking about."
Isaac shrugged, holding out his hooves indifferently, "Keep thinking that, dude," he picked up his empty tray to go throw away his trash, and as a parting note said teasingly under his breath, "Two'd make a cute couple," and left.
Chocolate turned around and held up his hoof to make a point, then sighed and gave up, laying his head down on the table in recognition.
One grateful meal and yet another tedious lecture later, Chocolate Milk found himself on the bus ride home, left alone with his thoughts once more. He looked down and saw that graphic of the bus he had saw that morning. He was about to ask himself what he could possibly know about the artist, but sighed when he realized he had probably spent too much energy contemplating that, and instead looked out the window at nothing in particular, riding along in silence.
He arrived at his stop and got off, adjusting his sweater. It had gotten hotter than it had been that morning. He walked along, not really paying attention to the path he took. He knew he should've been thinking about his schooling, or something actually productive, but all he could think about was Roseluck.
In the stories, when the guy longed for the girl, something otherworldly happened that forced the two to interact and eventually fall for one another, but in reality that never really happened. Yet another limitation of completely unremarkable, ordinary, real life. One could write all the fantastic stories they could, fabulous settings with lovable characters doing amazing things, and real life just wasn't that exciting. Sometimes real life was a let down, and maybe that's what drove Chocolate Milk to be a writer, because he wanted to convince himself that there was something out there, somewhere, something better. Even if he had to invent it himself.
That went to an ominous place very fast. Chocolate shook his head, returning to Roseluck. He had no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship, but that didn't mean he wouldn't accept one if it came along. Especially if it was Roseluck. But Roseluck would never do anything like that, she was just a friend.
Chocolate Milk sighed to himself, "A friend," he muttered under his breath. He had reached his apartment complex, and began the trek up to the third floor where his apartment was located. Why did he feel like this? He would never ever overextend himself for the sake of anypony, preferring rather to stand alone if necessary, and befriending anypony who approached him first. Why was this?
Chocolate Milk had thought about this before, and he knew the answer already. It was a strange combination of humility and spite. Humility because he didn't feel his opinions, his problems, or his feelings were important enough to be independently voiced, so he stayed politely quiet, only speaking when spoken to. Vice versa, he didn't feel that his opinions, his problems, or his feelings were important enough to other ponies, so he silently refused to even voice them. Why should he reveal his inner self to a cruel, indifferent world? That was the strange balance.
Chocolate reached his apartment and opened the door. Except he didn't, because the door was locked and his keys were inside. He let out a long, slow sigh of resignation, and finally giving up, just took off his saddlebags and leaned against the door, sliding down to the dirty carpet floor. He leaned his head back, thumping it on the door. Yup, sometimes real life could be just a let down.