Another day had passed and I still had no idea at all on how to continue my story. It had been so long since I returned to it, that the details were eluding me. I tried everything from taking time away, to reading other stories, and even asking ponies I knew for advice. Though that last part only ended up confusing me, since everypony has different tastes and all. Now here I am, wandering the Ponyville streets, thinking of another way I could get my thoughts flowing again. Hmm... what was there I haven’t tried yet?
I glanced to the side briefly and got a glimpse of somepony turning a newspaper page with their magic. Aha... no, more like “duh”. Magic, the one thing that can seemingly fix anything whenever it’s convenient! I looked up at my horn, but soon remembered I know nothing of advanced magic. All I can use is basic levitation, which would seem to be enough for an average Unicorn. However! I am no average Unicorn, I am a writer... kind of... okay not an actual professional one, but I can at least say I am a novice!
Okay, think, who do I know that can use magic well. A thought passed through my mind that essentially said, “Most Unicorns here can use magic pretty well, you know?” Well excuse me, brain, how about this then... What Unicorn in particular uses magic well and not have it backfire in some horrible way, hmm? The passing though returned with an answer, “Heck if I know, I am your brain after all...”
While having this strange conversation with my internal organs, I wasn’t paying much attention to walking, causing me to slam into another pony. Dazed, I shook my head and rubbed my forehead, i.e. the impact zone. Finally regaining my senses, I saw the pony to be Twinkleshine. She appeared to be equally shocked.
“Oh, sorry about that Twinkleshine,” I apologized.
“It’s... uh fine, Written Script,” she replied, “so how’s that story coming along, if I may ask?”
“I told you about that? I can’t seem to remember when...” I said, surprised at my lack of a memory.
“Written, you said it when we were over at Berry’s house, remember? You were going on about how you were such a terrible writer, but I think that was after you found her stash of hard apple cider... I think you even cried once or twice-oh, sorry! I shouldn’t have mentioned that...”
It was then that I had the most dumbfounded look on my face. I could barely recall ever being at Berry Punch’s house. Not to worry, if I know myself well, I probably left in better shape, you know like... not wasted.
“Well, I know I probably got over it after I left.”
“But I had to walk you home afterwards...”
I face-hoofed, partially regretting something I had no memory of.
“So, about my story...!” I broke in awkwardly, hoping to change the subject, “I’m just having a little trouble with a character or two and-”
“It’s writer’s block, isn’t it?” Twinkleshine interjected.
“Actually... um, yeah... it is, heh,” I confessed, “I don’t know why, since I’ve tried just about everything I can think of!”
“Everything, you’re absolutely sure?”
“Except magic that is...”
Twinkleshine’s expression grew more concerned, even raising an eyebrow in minute skepticism. I sheepishly smirked, unsure of what to say. I could ask her for help with this, now that I think of it, but I wasn’t sure if she was busy or not.
“Written, just be careful, magic can be unpredictable at times,” Twinkleshine said, starting to walk off.
“Hold up, Twinkleshine,” I said, “I was thinking that... you know, that you could use your magic to help me. If you don’t have other plans, that is.”
“I have some free time, so I guess I can try to help with your writing troubles. What kind of magic are we talking about here, anyway?”
I placed my hoof to my chin, thinking hard.
“I got nothing,” I replied, “but, I can show you what I’m having difficulty on.”
She nodded, yet still had a worried look behind her polite smile. We began walking towards my cottage, not far from where we were. I would’ve had a long drawn-out thought about how exactly was I going to explain the predicament, but my house was only about two yards away. If I started to get lost in thought now, I would slam into my front door. Putting that aside, I opened the door and Twinkleshine followed in soon after.
I led her into my office room, or what it really was, which was just a desk with papers all over the place. Oh the memories I’ve had in this room... dead-on-arrival ideas, broken quills, and headaches, what did you expect from a beginner like me? Okay I’ve written some good things, though far from perfection. I saw the story on the desk, nearly three chapters in, and I didn’t have a name for it either.
“This is it here, Twinkleshine,” I said, pointing to the object in question.
“Judging by the thickness of the stack," Twinkleshine examined," it looks like you have a large portion of it done. What did you want me to do?”
“I need to edit the story before moving on to other parts, but the ink has already set...” I explained, “I wanted to know if there was magic that could, instead, let me edit the story and continue without need of a quill.”
Twinkleshine pondered a bit, and then sighed. She inched over to the stack of papers that were the substance of my story’s makeup. Twinkleshine fiddled with them, checking the dried ink that I had mentioned. She giggled only for a moment, when checking through the pages, before returning to her previous look. The remark made me a little self-conscious of my writing; now I really need to edit this story, as I don’t recall having anything funny in the plot... yet.
“I can remember a spell for this, but I haven’t used it since I was still enrolled in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns back in Canterlot. You still sure you want my help? If anything goes wrong I wouldn’t want-”
“Please, Twinkleshine, I need to get this story done,” I pleaded, “I’ll take the risk, and besides, it’s just editing. I don’t believe that’s exactly life-threatening.”
That was my way of saying, “Get on with it!” in a less-rude fashion. She levitated the papers then concentrated, going through some strain as her horn began to glow. Twinkleshine released her hold and dropped the papers, panting slightly. Luckily, I caught them in my own levitation magic before they became lost within the other papers lying about the room.
“Are you alright, Twinkleshine?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied, “but can you hold them in the air with your magic?”
“Why not just set them on the desk?”
“No no, the class I took said not to let the object touch other things... or was that only other literature? It’s been so long since I’ve tried it... but to be safe, I think you should just hold it for me. Like you mentioned, shouldn’t be life-threatening, right?”
Well, I only said that because I have no idea how expert magic works, and that I really needed her to help. I noticed she seemed to doubt herself, and that made her more nervous than concerned at this point. It even made me worry, as I hesitated to lift the papers like she asked. With the story held by my magic, she focused hers once more. The papers began to glow in her magic’s aura, with mine still just a hazy veil over it. I started to lose grip on the story, but I didn’t know if this was a part of her spell or not.
“K-keep... keep it in the air, Written!” she spoke abruptly, noticing my horn’s aura fading.
I put in more effort to keep the papers aloft. Nothing seemed to be happening, which was odd. She strained harder, but my magic was disappearing again for no reason.
“Twinkleshine, how long is this going to-” I asked, to only be cut off.
She lost focus and panicked when I said that. A ray shot from the papers and blasted me with intense force. I was knocked back and onto the floor very quickly. My body stung as if I was burned, but I saw nothing wrong. I sat up and Twinkleshine rushed over to me, placing her hoof on my forehead.
“Written, are you alright!?” she said.
I tried to speak, but I found myself mute. In fact, I felt fairly tired for some reason and couldn’t concentrate on anything at all. A wavering discomfort lingered on until I shut my eyes from the unknown fatigue.
My mind was drifting, but I was aware, unlike a dream. I knew I was conscious, but everything around me was pitch black. I gazed around and saw nothing, not even my own appendages. I faintly heard Twinkleshine’s voice, though I could barely make it out. She called out my name repeatedly, which eventually became grating because damnit, I know who I am, Twinkleshine! Sheesh... am I dead? Is this pony heaven? Will I be known as that guy who died during an epic fail moment in magic history? If so, can I be in the newspaper? I hope they have a picture of me before the incident; I have a great photo in my closet by the way, just saying. I don’t want to look all dead and stuff... because that would be creepy, and who wants to see that before a meal?
Twinkleshine’s voice continued on, much to my dismay. Was she... sobbing? Oh sweet Celestia, she’s sobbing... On second thought, is this hell? I don’t want to sound like I’m being intentionally mean, but isn’t it called “Rest in peace”? Thankfully, she stopped moments later. I could hear her gasp, and then take a long sigh in some sort of relief. I could start to understand her better, though not very clearly.
“Written, thank goddess you’re still breathing!” she exclaimed, “Don’t worry I’ll try to fix this!”
Wait does that mean... Oh no! I’m in a coma!? Please Twinkleshine, don’t take me to a hospital! All they have there are old magazines. If I didn’t know any better, I think they were published in the Crystal Empire... before Sombra took it over! W-what if, she read those while I was like this!? Nopony should be subjected that kind of torture! Hmm... what was that?
My frantic thoughts were quieted when I heard the sound of breathing. I listened very carefully to the sound. Was that my breathing? But how could that be, since it sounded so far away. This confused me to no end as I tried to figure this out. I heard the sound of hooves against the wooden planks of the room, and became louder as it approached me.
“Are you actually... did it really...?” Twinkleshine whispered, trailing off occasionally.
I could hear her magic activating, but it was nearly deafening. A thundering sound erupted, was it... the sound of pages being turned? Twinkleshine’s activities were causing some sort of shockwave in the darkness that enveloped me. I could see fissures along the black void, with different colors shining through. My appendages were fading into existence, and I felt my bodily control returning. The blackness was starting to shatter, almost similar to breaking glass. Once it all dissipated, I found myself standing on a dirt road next to a white fence along one side.
“Twinkleshine, can you hear me?” I said, realizing my voice had returned as well.
There was no response, but I listened to anything I could hear. It sounded like walking, then a door opening and then shutting. I turned my attention back to the dirt road I was on. Am I tripping? Or, is this some sort of crazy magic-induced dream? I looked up at the sky and froze at what I saw. All the thoughts I had appeared in text against the blue expanse. I could see the entire paragraph of text I was forming, the more I kept thinking, the more words appeared.
What’s even stranger is that I saw the sentences where I freaked about old newspapers. It looked so... stupid. Is this how I think, let alone write? There suddenly were approaching quotation marks, better get prepared for dialogue.
Anytime now...
“Oh lookie here, it’s the author,” A voice said.
I swiftly turned towards them, to see a green pony with a white mane standing nearby. Somehow, he seemed vaguely familiar; all the traits did at least. Author, what did he mean by that?
“And who are you?” I said.
“Uh, don’t you know?” he continued, “I’m Viridian Leaf, the protagonist.”
I broke out into laughter, and glanced at the sky. It said, “The author then chuckled at the green stallion hysterically, then checked the sky to reassure himself that the text was, indeed, still there.” Viridian Leaf, that was a very generic name! The pony didn’t seem to share my sense of humor, and instead gave me an annoyed look. If I am the author, I must have forgotten to add a likeable personality in him.
“Well, sorry you feel that way...” Viridian replied.
“What are you talking about, I didn’t say anything yet?”
“I read the paragraph up there,” Viridian pointed to the text in the sky.
I was getting ready to reply, but I heard more noises off in the distance. It was Twinkleshine again, but I couldn’t see quotation marks like before.
“Well, mister Viridian, since you seem to know everything,” I said smugly, “what is that noise? Don’t cheat by looking at my sentence either.”
“I-I do not know... I only know that you are the author of this tale,” he replied.
Hmm... maybe I actually am inside this story? This wasn’t exactly what I had expected, but I wasn't too sure about if I could edit from here or not. I was interrupted by the outside noise again; a very loud slam and running.
“Raindrops! I need your help, I-” she called out.
“Calm down, Twinkleshine, what is it?” the pony I assumed to be Raindrops said.
“I was helping Written Script with his story, which at first I wasn’t sure about, then... then... Raindrops, I think I trapped him in the story by accident!”
If I were made of glass, I would shatter into bits. Then I would probably have a caution sign nearby, warning not to step on me. I bit my lip and looked down, trying to contemplate what happens now.
“Just set the papers on the table here, and let’s go find some help,” Raindrops continued, “come on, just relax and...”
Their voices became faint, getting out of comprehendible range. I hope they could get me out of this thing soon. Actually, now that I think of it, was there still edit the story like this? Twinkleshine probably won’t be able to retrieve me for quite a while, as the ponies I know always take their sweet time. I don’t know how this issue involves Raindrops, because Twinkleshine’s the smartest pony among my friends. Raindrops isn’t even a Unicorn... well, at least I don’t think she is. It’s a weird phenomenon, sometimes I see a pony with the same Cutie Mark, coat, mane, and what have you, but sometimes they’re a completely different race. I swear I even saw Noteworthy have only one eye!
“That all sounds very far-fetched, Written, but don’t you think we should advance the plot?” Viridian questioned.
“What, is this pace too boring for you?” I asked in return.
“Not the plot of this story, but this one. You mentioned editing, so shall we proceed? Remember your other tale, where the grammar was broken beyond repair?”
“You weren’t even in that story...”
“Yes I was, because you like using the same OC over and over again... without expanding on their character.”
I’m being criticized by a fictional character that I made. At least I make stories with OCs only, just imagine if I wrote ones that involved my friends? I knew he could see all of this passage in the sky, so I didn’t bother speaking it. I’ll just follow him through the events and try to remember exactly what I wrote.
“Alright, let’s start walking down the road. When I get farther up, I come across another pony. His name’s more generic than mine, so even I forgot it.” Viridian explained.
According to him, I’m not that good of an author. Pfft, what does he know? Maybe when I get out of this story, I’ll change his character. Heh, I’ll make him an oaf... but that might annoy my readers. He was too fixated on the walk, so I knew he couldn’t see my current narration in the sky.
The entire path ahead wasn’t creative. I mean, it was just a dirt road with a fence along the side; it didn’t even curve at all. Eventually, and by that I mean forever, we saw a grayish-blue pony sitting against the fence. It had been a while since I last heard the voices of the outside world, I wondered if everything was going well with Twinkleshine, or if Raindrops had found any “help” yet.
“Okay, this is an important plot point,” Viridian said, “I just walk up casually, then he-”
“Is this your actual dialogue, or are you just explaining the story?” I interrupted.
“Explaining, why?”
“Well stop, all this exposition is going to kill me... By the way, do you know if it’s possible to die in literature? I mean dead-dead, without any contrived events bringing me back?”
“I wouldn’t know... but anyway, just follow along, this should-”
“Will you just move the plot along!? The reader is probably getting bored of this conversation...”
“Reader...?”
“Forget it,” I said, throwing my hooves up, “any more explaining will break... barriers...”
After that long drawn out event, Viridian stepped over to the pony by the fence. He looked up at Viridian, giving a powerful stare. The pony didn’t say a word and turned his attention towards me. He smirked and stood up then began walking up to me. Viridian seemed bewildered; he wanted to say something but struggled doing so.
“Written! Glad that you could join us here,” he said, “this is the first time I’ve ever met you face-to-face.”
“And you are?” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
“The name’s Fluffy Eyes.”
“Sounds painful...”
An important memory started coming back to me. It said, “I shouldn’t use name generators”. Though, I can’t blame them, due to the fact that most of our names are just verbs and nouns... But damnit Rum and Monkey, if I get Candy Dazzles one more freaking time... I’m starting to realize that I have yet to do any editing at all. I could notice Fluffy Eyes gazing upwards at the paragraph I was writing, but soon found himself stopping when he read this sentence. He was about to speak, but voices from beyond the story were upon us again. This time, it wasn’t Twinkleshine’s or Raindrops’. It sounded masculine, but familiar.
“Raindrops, you home?” he said, “I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie tonight... Hello?”
I could hear them walking around, the creaking of floorboards becoming increasingly louder and fainter the whole time.
“What’s this?” the pony questioned, “Oh neat, a draft!”
Is this guy seriously going to-yup, he did. Whoever this was not only entered somepony’s house uninvited, now they’re taking the story and I with them. What was unsettling is that he mumbled to himself occasionally, talking about such things as impressing other ponies with his writing. Hold on, his writing? Is he going to use my work, or does he plan to edit it? Either way, it worried and frustrated me to no end.
What does that mean for this story? I shrugged it off rather quickly. Twinkleshine’s magic would probably prevent outside input... right? No no, I’m sure it’ll be fine; I just have to wait it out. Eventually help would arrive, so I can take a long break from ever touching a piece of literature again.