"I cannot imagine what the world must be like in your lifetime, but back in my day things are mundane and there is little room for excitement. So it came as an incredible development that at the moment of my entrance to life, a new star appeared on the dome of the sky. They said that my mother delivered me in the middle of the night, and that my birth was somewhat unexpected, before the term. Before I went to write these words, I used to think that considering my path in life I might have prefered to stay a bit longer inside my mother. After all, it was all warm and cozy in there (I presume). But I digress. So, yes, the new star had no name, and no one knew where it appeared from. Our wisest elders were puzzled by this conundrum, and the mystery of the star only grew deeper when its light started to whirl around it, the ebulious eddies descending slowly from the heavens. Many ponies prostrated immediately in adulation of the wondrous event, hoping that their newly discovered faith would somehow help them further along. It never hurt to get in good terms with any future boss, they thought.
I was in my mother's caring hooves when she gave me my name, and my name stuck to the apparent significance of the event like sweet caramel on a tooth. The elders saw an omen in my birth, my mother saw a little angel looking up at her, and I saw the ghost for the first time. Yes, I said I saw it, but not that I remember seeing it - I'll get to that, but be patient. I sense that you're young and can't wait to get to the good parts but this is not a bedtime story, nor is it a small task to imprint memories into ink. The flow of memories cannot be jolted, you cannot skip to the... Oh, fine, Gazelle now pats me on the back and tells me to relax. And she's right, and both you and me should be thankful of her presence beside me. Good. Calm. Peaceful. Non-beligerent. *deep breath* To me, it must have looked like an undefined cloud, a small splinter from the magical twister that now was standing right above my family - and the rather large group of gawking ponies. My mother sang to me, and in her tender voice I found comfort and safety, disregarding the apparition which must have gone somewhere else for the time being. I fell asleep, but the play of the swirling starlight had one more act. I talked to several witnesses of the original event, and I managed to coax the information regarding the last interesting detail of my birth.
For what could have possibly embedded deeper the brand of prophecy on my tiny forehead than the unnatural appearance of my cutie mark on my baby flank? Under the already befuddled gazes of my parents and those of the other pony folk, out of the shimmering vortex of starlight a smoky tendril emerged, and just before dissipating completely it touched my left hind leg, revealing a small white snail shell with the tiniest possible twinkly star in the middle. It stands to reason that no one saw the shell, they saw a whirlpool of magic emanating from the star, my star. They wanted to name it in the honor of my parents, but their endeavour failed for as quick as it had appeared, the swirling cloud vanished and the star's sparkle faded in the inky background of the night's sky. Least to say, my future was expected to be the brightest possible, and great many things were expected from me and my magic. And it took them three years precisely for the shock of my inaptitude for the most basic of unicorn magic to settle in their minds."
A slight flutter distracted Twilight's attention from the pages. As she turned her head towards the door, she noticed Philomena dashing through, landing square on her head. That bird was a wondrous mystery of its very own, and possibly the best reason why Twilight secretly wished she would become a princess someday. The phoenix weighed next to nothing, and as she plucked a few feathers from her wings, the delicate plumes landed on the book, illuminating the words with a warm ember glow. Twilight found the incandescence of the phoenix's soft cover incredibly alluring, swaying her into embracing the silent velvet of the sleep. As she slowly rested her head against the pages of the book, the tome started to lose its resemblance of a book and adopt the shape of a pillow. Philomena looked kindly down on the sleeping filly and gently took off, gliding out of the library and into the tower of Celestia. Moments later, she emerged from the tower with a small package which she carried in her beak. Going back to Twilight, Philomena burned the thin wrapping sheet that covered the bundle, revealing a fuzzy blanket, just the right size for a young pony. And Twilight went on dreaming about how she got her cutie mark, and how superbly interesting magic is - and underneath her sleepy head, the words were patiently waiting for the morning.
The very first thing Twilight saw when she reluctantly opened her eyes in the glare of the sunlight was a rather large green box that had been surreptitiously placed beside her. Clutching a small note, Philomena greeted the drowsy filly with a joyful chirp, swooping down from the ceiling and dropping the sealed paper in Twilight's lap before opting for the longest way out of the library in spite of the open window of the aisle. A mixture of awe and protest reflected the general reaction of the other scholars that were, judging by their grumbling demeanours, just as nocturnal as Twilight. Ripping apart the royal seal, the filly read:
My most studious student,
For every journey you undertake, you must have adequate supplies prepared beforehand. I think you'll find that strawberries add to the flavour of a good story.
If Philomena had been near, Twilight might have asked her how was it that the princess knew everything that's going on in her castle. But boy, was she hungry! Upon opening the green box the delicious steam of freshly baked goods envelopped the small filly's face, and the contents of the "supplies" revealed themselves as neatly portioned compartments of freshly picked strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate mousse, on top of which reigned the scrumptious golden cupcakes, Twilight was way too preoccupied with the mouth-watering picture in front of her hooves to notice that the pillow had not been an actual pillow; the book reverted to its original shape and, gliding silently behind the little pony that was struggling to achieve the perfect strawberry-to-mousse-to-cupcake ratio, opened its pages abruptly. The perfect cupcake almost had a close encounter of the flat kind with the floor, nearly dodging an early demise thanks to Twilight's magic field of suspension. Munching on the tasty treat, she resumed reading the book:
"You must be the second reader that managed to get this far, and whether it is by coincidence or planned action, your strawberries just allowed you to read further into my story. I chose strawberries as a key because at the farm where I grew up these ridicilously yummy fruits were cultivated in abundance. It was rather strange to see a family of unicorns settling in for a life of quiet and dignified earthly work among non-unicorn ponies and I always admired my parents (when I had the mind to see things for what they were) for the strength of their sacrifice: they had cut almost all ties with the select order of the unicorns that dabbled in the magic arts and politics, all for the sake of me. I never asked my mother or father if they had ever blamed my inability to use magic for their departure to the farm: after all, I was supposed to become possibly the greatest unicorn that ever was and the community of wielders of the magic arts were more than interested in observing my prowess. Which was absolutely missing.
I should mention right about now that the ghost was still with me. Well, I may have misused this word because it was not the textbook type of apparition that some folk use to scare little children with, nor was it something that had an immediate, solid explanation. Not few were the circumstances in which I was called crazy for my pretenses of seeing things that the others did not perceive; along with my status of incompetent unicorn, those that mocked me although they were around my age coined the nickname Silly Snaily as a stab towards my cutiemark which, as I grew up, looked less and less like a whirl. With each passing year, the star in the middle dimmed and the image of the shell grew thicker. And it went hand-in-hand with the ghost's ... activities. You know when you think you saw something in the corner of your eye, only for the phantasm to disappear as you focus your attention to that particular place? Just as you see dark spots after you stare into the sun and you can't focus on them since they move around with your eyes, this presence kept eluding my eyesight. I shouldn't call it a presence, since I felt nothing when it was around me. Anypony can sometimes feel if someone is watching them, or if someone is nearby although the other pony says nothing or doesn't do anything to alarm the senses; this was different, I always felt alone. And I always was alone when the ghost got me into troubles."