//------------------------------// // Chapter Two // Story: The Pencil Pony // by MrMsSiren //------------------------------// The void. It is a wonder how such a simple word could cause such dramatic feelings in those that hear it. For some, it could inspire fear, and for others, a sense of wholeness. But, of course, the reason such a various amount of emotions appear from such a concept is due to its interpretation. One of the most widely accepted meanings for such a word is a lack of anything. It is seen as absolute nothingness, and to enter the void would be to become nothing as well. Such a concept usually inspires fear in the ignorant of the world. For some the void is seen as what comes after death, and for some it could be seen as the highest position of being. But at the moment, Sketch Pen could only reflect on such things as she herself floated in the abyss. It was quite an odd feeling, she thought, to lack a body and other senses. All that she had and was, was just simple thoughts, bouncing off the non-existent walls of nothingness. At first she just assumed that she was blinded by the light that her spell had put off, that maybe her body was numbed as a result of magical burnout or a failed spell. Then came the panic, as the seconds, minutes, and possibly even hours passed by and such an absence of feeling did not fade back into feeling. And finally, here she was, contemplating whether or not she truly managed to kill herself with a simple reversed spell. She wondered if a wall would appear if she willed it, just so she could throw her head against it. How could she have been so thickheaded in the first place as to reverse a spell that powerful that clearly stated NOT to reverse it? She hoped it was due to the rush of whatever it was when she realized the potential of this new spell, rather than her own stupidity like she feared. She began to wonder what Golden Chisel would think when she saw her corpse on the floor, mentally sighing when she remembered how innocent she was, knowing that she would be traumatized. Sketches mind began to drift towards her families reactions. She knew that her parents loved her, even with their disappointment. They undoubtedly would be hit the hardest, their only daughter dead from her own greed. She just began to realize that she did not need to worry of that, as she would be here forever, when she began to feel something new. It almost felt as though her mind was being sucked into a vortex, getting stronger as she got closer. The feeling grew intense, and just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished leaving a feeling of numbness in her body. She felt incredibly light, but felt as though she could pick up the slightest of changes of whatever was happening around her. She then felt one of the strangest feelings that she ever felt, as though something incredibly long and sharp was running through her. The feeling made its way downward, soon joined by similar feelings that seemed to sprout from nowhere. One of which began to make itself apparent nearby, a similar feeling appearing opposite. As soon as those two feelings worked their magic, she could suddenly hear. The strange feelings were then accompanied by the familiar sound of pencil on paper, multiple tools on a single sheet she noted. Next she felt and heard the tools make their way towards the front of her, right in front of what she could only assume to be her head. As they passed she managed to feel eyelids, as well as the eyes underneath them. She began to pen her eyes, hoping to get a better frame of reference of where she was. Her eyes widened at what was happening to her body rather than the scenery. Several drawn pencils were making their way down, drawing her body as they went. She could move her head but instantly regretted the action, as her body wasn’t entirely drawn yet, giving her an odd 2d look inside her own hollow body. She turned her head to look behind her, only for her shock to increase. Behind her a very life-like pencil was busy drawing addition pencils, the latter moving towards Sketch to draw and fix any mistakes its brothers had made. She looked down to find that her body had been completed, although her legs still needed some work, outline still visible. She simply could only stare in awe as a pencil below her began to draw the rest of her hoof, occasionally flipping over to erase any crooked lines. Her vision was directed upward when a pencil entered her vision, aiming towards her mouth. When its job was finished she could finally breathe in the scent of freshly sharpened pencils and lead. The Same pencil also took its time to draw her mouth, allowing her the capability to speak. She simply decided to wait whatever was happening to her body out, simply watching the pencils as they finished her body, as well as her mane and tail. She then blinked in surprise, as when the last line was drawn, every pencil stopped, freezing in mid-air before flying towards the non-drawn pencil. Sketch Pen could only stare as each and every pencil formed a line before the larger real one. The line began to grow shorter, as the larger pencil flipped over, beginning to erase the drawn pencils. Eventually she was left with just the large pencil. She stood there for a moment, expecting the large pencil to move, only to sigh when it just floated there. She attempted to piece together whatever just happened, straining her mind, only to find a single sentence. “What… just happened?” *** After a small amount of reflection of past events, Sketch finally decided to look about her new environment. She began to move, only to stop when she noticed an odd phenomenon. ‘Is that? Yeah it is.’ Sketch pen looked upwards, knowing that she was looking at the ceiling fan of Golden’s spare bedroom. She attempted to figure out how she could view not only the spare bedroom, but also this odd papery world about her. Sketch took a moment to move her head at different angles, getting dizzy as the view of the bedroom and the paper world seemed to switch at random. She repeated this process, finally finding specific angles that would allow her to view either perspective. She could only assume that she was a 2d drawing in a 2d medium in a 3d world, which she came from. This would mean that she could offer an explanation of why she could view either perspective, but still managed to confound her. She decided to look on the bright side, thankful that the doodle pad managed to stay open on its drop from the bed. After getting adjusted to either perspective, she began to attempt to leave the 2d world into the 3d world, only to fail. Something seemed to be keeping her from moving into the 3d world, making Sketch snort in frustration. She decided to take her mind off of it by exploring the new world around her. She moved for what seemed like only a couple seconds before she felt an odd feeling, like passing through a wall of molasses. She looked to where she had crossed, finding what almost looked like a gap between pages. She looked upward to find that the page terminated only about two yards above her. She looked forward, attempting to see how exactly this dimension worked. She found that she could look through both perspectives but only halfway In each one, like standing in the middle of a doorway, attempting to look into both rooms at once. She could see every page of her doodle pad, barely able to see even a glimpse of some of her earlier drawings. Each page was lined up, connected by their sides, like TVs lined up side-to-side at an electronics store. Sketch blinked, wondering what a “TV” and an “electronics store” was and how they came to mind, before moving back to the task at hoof. She sighed, moving back to the page she was originally drawn on. She slumped down, thinking of how she was going to get herself out of this mess. For one, she was effectively stuck here, having tried to escape already. And two, was that nopony was even inside of the house, Golden and her parents leaving for a party. After some time of not getting any idea of escaping, Sketch Pen decided to just simply go for a walk, like she did back in Manehattan when she was bored. She began moving forward, only to be struck in the face by something. She leapt back, readying herself for whatever foul beast was attacking, only to blink in surprise. The large pencil, the one she could only assume was the pencil with the non-reversed spell on it, sat floating before her. She noted that it was held aloft by a drawn unicorns aura before looking up, seeing a matching one on her own horn. ‘Am I still in control of it?’ as she contemplated the tool before her, she concentrated, thinking of a simple square in front of her. By the time she opened her eyes, half of a square was in front of her, the rest coming soon after. Once the drawing was complete, the pencil began to float in front of its new creation. *** After some messing about with the pencil, still feeling giddy at the implications, Sketch Pen promptly became bored. She decided to wait for Golden to arrive home, hoping she could be taken to an expert unicorn to have whatever happened to her reversed. With less than a thought, a small cottage stood in front of Sketch, the pencil levitating nearby. Sketch entered the house, a sudden tiredness overtaking her. She walked into a small bedroom, preparing to hop into it, before she noted something on the wall. A Mirror. Sketch Pen gulped, walking up to it. Before her stood the simple sketch of a lanky, short maned unicorn, with a nervous expression on her face. She noted what could only be described as a scar on the right side of her face, undoubtedly drawn when she collided with the pencil. In this world, she was but a simple unshaded, barely outlined, animated doodle. Sketch seemed to stay there, staring at herself for hours. On the outside she wore an unreadable expression, her body in a neutral position. On the inside, however, her mind was reeling. She just couldn’t believe that this is what she had been reduced to, yet the proof was right in front of her. And to think that a simple spell done backwards was all it took… Eventually Sketch Pen removed her gaze from the mirror, looking towards the bed. She sat down upon it, attempting to figure everything out. She had no clue how to escape this place, or if there even WAS a way to do so. Her next thought was of how her parents and Golden would think. Would they even check her doodle pad, or would they just assume she was dead and leave it at that? Sketch sighed, telling herself that she could think of such questions after she had had some rest. She laid herself down, closing her eyes telling herself that everything would be solved in some way or another. After a bit of time, Sketch got up eyes bleary. She knew that there would be no sleep tonight if she didn’t have some sort of comfort, or at the very least got her mind off recent events. She thought of what she could do, and remembered what she did when she was a foal. The family cat, Juniper, was always there when Sketch was frightened or upset. Juniper would always climb in bed with her, cuddling up next to her when she needed it. Sketch frowned, knowing that there was no way Juniper could get to her here. An idea sparked to life within her head, a small smile adorning her face. Sketch brought the large, out-of-place pencil to the window, only to frown when it would not fit. She then had another idea, a way to have a portable drawing tool at hoof whenever she needed it. She trotted outside, the pencil arriving nearby. ‘Well, the pencils that drew me were animated in a way, so maybe I could recreate one?’ Sketch Formed an image of a simple, pony sized pencil within her mind. When she opened her eyes, the large pencil was already retreating, seemingly eager to show off its new creation. Sketch smiled, looking to the small writing utensil before her. After picking it up, carrying it to her room, she began to focus. Memories flooded back, the image of the black cat in the centerpiece. Instead of focusing on the larger pencil to do her bidding, she instead began to levitate the smaller pencil before her. As each memory floated by, Sketch Pen struck the air with her tool of choice. With every image that sang to the wind as it traveled forth to the front of her mind, Sketch added line, a curve, and so on, where appropriate. As Sketch finished, she allowed her eyes to open, taking in the image before her. She smiled at the simple doodle of a cat, barely caring of the numerous imperfections. Sketch began to walk to the bed, her smile only widening with each swing of her hooves. ‘Even if she can’t be here herself, at the very least she’s here in spirit.’ Sketch hopped onto the bed, recent events beginning to make their way into the background of her mind. She sighed happily as she grew comfortable, knowing that she was safe. Sketches eyes grew wide as she felt something hop onto the bed, rubbing against her blanketed form. She slowly turned her head towards the being that shared her space. The small doodle of a cat stared back, purring. It walked forward, meowing to Sketch. Sketch Pen promptly screamed.