• Member Since 15th Jul, 2012
  • offline last seen Dec 10th, 2020


I did things, once.


This is a story that no one will read. Because the story, like me, has no name. No title. With no title, one can’t discern what could possibly take place in this story. For them, the journey into such a story will be akin to that of one into the deepest of unknowns. Strange, disturbing, and full of uncertainty. Much like how life is.

Whether or not it is chosen to be acknowledged, this is my life. The life of a nameless pony. My life.

An experimental short-story written for One-Shotober. Pre-read by electreXcessive.

Chapters (1)
Comments ( 26 )

During pre-reading, I was told that this fic brought to mind Background Pony. Honestly, I have never found the time to give that thing a proper read, so any connection to that fic is entirely unintentional. I'd like to think that this is different enough to be significant on its own, so, take from it what you will. Writing this was just a little dribble for One-Shotober, but at least, it got that idea out of my head. Still got plenty more where that came from, folks!


Interesting concept. I liked it.

Of course, people will read it cause, it looks interesting :twilightsmile: I like it.

Well, you took my eye on the front page and off my editing duties.

And I am not disappointed.

Fucking round of applause. You get the Time Lord seal of approval.

Now, where did I put my seal?

Hmm, i don't know if it is me or not but it seems like a story about nothing. I mean that with all due respect, however it never really developed into a story. I am sorry to see it listed as complete. It could evolve into something much better if there was more development.

Also, you say Background Pony is what electre was reminded of.

I was reminded of the first chapter of Slaughterhouse-Five.

I do agree. I like what was set up, but if this were to be a story, it would be fantastic.

Want to rally for its continuation together?

Very introspective. I found it ironic that It said I was the first reader (but that's beside the point). It's always hard to understand this kind of point of view without experience in being anti-social looking from the outside in. Excellent work.

Wow. That was an interesting topic.

Interesting. I know you where doing this as a one-shot but I think you should add onto this story.

I like you.:rainbowderp:


It wouldn't be my place to convince someone to write further. It would be nice to see it develop into something more and if the author decides to do that then so much the better. To be perfectly honest, I think the idea of overly dramatic sad stories on this site is over used. Everyone seems to be out to write the next 'A child called It'. Life isn't always that fun or even down right miserable for that matter, why would people want to read about it? That being said, I think I am the only one who thinks that. I may never understand why people like dramas.

That is why I would like to see it develop into something more than a single chapter of self pity.

'I've been thorough the desert on a horse pony with no name. It felt good to be outta the rain'

3313171 3313103 3313132 I am considering the possibility of continuing this story, as it happens. However, with One-Shotober going on, I can't spare much time for that right now. But perhaps, eventually, I will return to this story with a greater goal in mind. (This was a story that I had wanted to elaborate more on anyway, so it's just as well. :twilightsheepish:)

3313060 3313063 3313104 Thank you for the kind words. They do mean a lot. :twilightsmile:

3313150 :scootangel:

3313259 Heh, well, I would at least certainly hope that such stories would deserve such upvoting before they got them of course. XD And even though it's not much of a contest as it is a challenge, thanks for the well-wishes.

Exact same thing just happened to me. Here I was trying to pre-read/edit somebody's story, and I made the mistake of glancing at the main page. All the way from title, to description, to the beginning and all the way to the end, this story fascinated me. It's written from a place of emotion that I don't fully understand but I still find somehow completely relatable. Whatever was happening here, it somehow touched me.

At first, it interested me because of its mystery. It seemed to be coming from an angle I hadn't seen before. It's a novel story, and I was really curious where it would go. Who is this mysterious nihilism that narrates this story? What does all this mean? But as I read on I started to realize that none of that actually mattered to me.

I think it was written from the perspective of a concept, not a pony.

This story seems to be skillfully employing something that I've been trying to master, myself, and that's the art of the 'unsaid'. When you present a concept to someone in just the right way, your mind will fill in the gaps. It's like the uncanny valley. When things are vaguely recognizable, they're interesting and endearing, and as they get closer and closer to 'real', their flaws become more and more apparent, until they become a twisted mockery of real images and emotions, because they get too close yet too far.

Here's an example:


I don't know about you, but when I look at that, I see a face, which is strange, because this simplistic collection of geometric shapes isn't something that could be objectively mistaken for an actual face. Not by a long shot. It's just that your mind fills in the gaps. It takes something that's not remotely human, and it applies something to it that's larger than life. It's more human than humans.

That's what this story was like for me. I saw way more story than you actually wrote, and it was captivating. I'm really impressed. I have no idea how the hell you did it.

Although, maybe I shouldn't be calling it a 'story', because it doesn't have any plot, and that is probably the most deliciously meta part of this entire piece. A story about nothingness is about nothing. You've created poetry here, not a narrative, and I ate it all up in big delicious slurps.

Also, when I think about it, the advantage that the medium of literature has over other storytelling media is that it has the strongest ability for things to be left unsaid. There's no way what you've written here could ever be a video without completely draining it of everything that its made of. It needed to be a work of literature. Kudos.

So, I think you should be wary of continuing this, at least if you want to appeal to someone like me. This pony could be real, maybe not, could be just a lonely pony who feels isolated, or could be a pony that is genuinely separated from society in some way (Antisocial? Disfigured? Tainted by magic?), or maybe it really is some abstract concept or entity that interacts with the world (for example, a representation of every background pony? Or some sort of looming force like death or the personification of being forgotten) <-- If you answer this question, everything changes for me. Then it's no longer poetry; it's no longer an exploration of an emotion and a perspective. It collapses down and implodes, and becomes a story, with a plot. Which might be good? Maybe the story would be amazing. Who knows? But it could also ruin it all.

Good luck.

3313457 That... is an incredible analysis. Call it ignorant brilliance or dumb luck, but a lot of that was mostly unintentional. XD I had very little idea of where to take this story at first. I just sort of... took off with it, and ended it the way it was. To have such a plain work of mine broken down into such an intriguing concept... Poetry, eh? Hm. I almost feel embarrassed, really; I had no idea what kind of story I had when I first wrote it. I guess it's not even a proper story, is it? Hence why I pegged this as "experimental" and all.

Thinking about it in the way you describe, I'm not even sure if I do want to continue this anymore. As you pointed out, sometimes the strongest part of a story is what is left unsaid. My plans for a continuation would have neutralized much of the delicate subtext that you described. At this rate, I either need to rethink my original plan or disregard continuation completely. A tough choice to make, honestly. It's like a "double or nothing" deal; it could end up even greater, or crash and burn. I'm not the kind of guy to go out on a limb taking risks like that, unless I knew exactly what I was doing.

Even so, I deeply appreciate your honest analysis and thoughts. You, sir, have given me a lot to think about, and I thank you for that. I'm glad you enjoyed the story. :twilightsmile:



Art has a tendency to do that to you.

Sometimes, if you're not an overthinker like me, you just dump a bucket of emotions on the page and something beautiful comes out.

I almost said as much in my original post, I was going to say 'I have no idea how the hell you did it, and you probably don't either.'

I like the idea of the vague, the unknowable, and the obscured. Hell, I was once named by my co-workers as "Mr Obscurity" at a company party. But this story is borderline empty. Like some universal black hole passed by its galactic orbit, and sucked in the bits and pieces that make a story workable. Now, it reads like a blog entry by a (excuse the politically incorrectness of what I'm about to say) overweight goth chick that writes suicide poetry from her isolation for the five hundred followers of other goth chicks that at least get out of the house and cry at Coldplay in the corner of Starbucks.

The awful truth here, is that this story is dangerously lacking in "pony points." In fact, I dare to say that with some very minor effort, it could be absolutely poniless, and we could insert an emo Dee Dee from Dexter's lab.

So, I am down voting. Not because of the imbalance in denotation and connotation of some things, or the fact that some sentences seemed painful to the ear; basic grammar intact, just painfully arranged. No, I am giving this a down vote because of the simple lack of MLP.

Interesting. While the concept itself is a bit cliche (the usual "is it better to be alone, or to have friends?" debate), the writing style definitely made up for it, particularly the relentless self-flagellation, which (thankfully) does not dissolve into a cheap "happy ending," but maintains the bleak tone throughout the story. It may just be my current morbid fascination with this type of stuff (and the fact that I am working on stories similar to this one), but I enjoyed the atmosphere in this fic, not to mention actually finding something like this was a treat on its own... :raritywink:

Looking at the comments is making me jealous of this story. People are saying conflicting things:

- The mood and theme was awesome and triggered a dark fascination. / The mood and theme remind me of overangsty goths.

- This was nice, but it would be amazing if it was a story with more conflict and plot progression. / The fact that this is a story about nothingness that's about nothing is delightfully meta.

- The concept is trite and overdone. / The concept was so unique it grabbed me and didn't let go.

I want me some of this in my stories. I want something polarizing, and thought provoking, and artistically bold. I want people to read my stories and immediately start arguing passionately with each other while I cackle and scream "DANCE PUPPETS!" :rainbowwild:

Are we even alive?
Or living a lie?
We all just survive,
And then simply die.

Am I worth it?
Is it okay to risk?
On my seat I sit,
My life but a disk.

Nameless till named.
Empty till filled.
Replayed like a game,
And yet I stay still.

Should I or not?
Do I try or give up?
My throat like drought,
My speaking just stop.

Why am I writing poetry?
I have nothing in this void to fill.
I'm just a background pony,
And I just stare through the windowsill.

It is NEVER too late to turn around from that kind of existence. My past mate was like this, up until his 26th year of age. Myself and a few others he decided to start interacting with in life, opened him to all the concepts he was missing and thus he found more to live for, a reason more to live than just the blind existence he searched in himself. Although I can't help feeling sad though from reading this, for how much it reminds me of the person i met him as, but I should be glad he grew and changed. Only sad because when he found all he was missing, I was the one disregarded like nopony. :applecry: All the same I found this text quite insightful.

Beautiful poetry.

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