The Pony from Earth

by RedgeTrek

Prelude (optional)

Author's Note:

Optional intro, but it helps you understand the setting.

Something is different tonight. The Storyteller senses it as ponies start to gather for another story. He finds himself oddly nostalgic. Strange, ungrasped notions play through his head. He wonders what Story is going to come up tonight. Somehow, he never knows until all his audience has assembled. He likes to think that his Stories are somehow chosen to help some pony among them. He just doesn’t know. He rarely speaks to anypony anymore unless he is telling his Stories.

The group is nearly complete now, and the Storyteller sees why tonight is different. There is a filly in the audience. Though it is not unheard of, the Storyteller rarely finds foals listening to his Stories. His Stories can teach great lessons, but it is usually agreed that a pony needs some life experience to grasp them.

The filly, a lavender unicorn, is sitting next to a grey mare with the same blonde hair. Her mother, he supposes. He’s seen her among his listeners a few times. One night, a few years ago, a Story came out of him that he was sure was intended for her. With her eyes like that, life cannot have been easy for her, and the Story had taught the value of perseverance in the face of great difficulty. He hadn’t known then that she had a daughter.

Nopony else seems to be coming, so the Storyteller steps from the shadows. All look at him expectantly, and he opens his mouth to begin tonight’s Story.

Then he shuts it in surprise. No Story comes to mind. He doesn’t understand. This has never happened before.

“Hello!”

The Storyteller looks at the little filly, taken aback. Ponies have long since learned not to address him when he is about to begin. Perhaps her mother hasn’t told her what to expect. Or she has forgotten, or chosen to ignore. Who knows what foals think? Unsure of what else to do, the Storyteller replies.

“Hello.”

The Storyteller smiles at the irony. Though he knows a thousand Stories, and can relate them with eloquence, the only thing he can think to say right now is “Hello.”

“You look really old, mister.”

Her mother smiles, embarrassed. She makes a gesture for the filly to be silent, but the Storyteller nods to her that it’s okay. He knew something special was going to happen tonight. Perhaps it will be okay. Perhaps for the first time he can tell his own Story.

He looks around at the other ponies seated around the fire. Has fate chosen them all to bear witness? He has long ago given up on trying to explain the workings of destiny. He is about to open his soul to these folks. He can only hope his trust will not be betrayed.

“Indeed I am, little miss. Very old. Would you like me to tell you something of the long life I’ve lived?”

The filly seems to give it some thought, as if to decide whether an old pony’s life story might not be too boring for her. Then she smiles to the Storyteller; a sweet smile that mirrors her mother’s and brings warmth to the Storyteller’s heart.

“Sure!”

So the Storyteller sits down with a sigh. He will tell the Story and what will be, will be. The room falls silent and is filled with his deep voice.

“Well then, miss. I will start with when I was born. It was a long time ago and a long way from here.”