Write Club! A Multi-Prompt Compilation

by HapHazred

History: Keam

"And so, they have made it possible for the magic of friendship to spread throughout Equestria, stronger than ever before!"

I put down the feather quill next to the book on the desk and closed the tomb. It was finished, yet another chapter in the story of my best generation finished.

With a feeling of satisfaction I rose from my chair, walking over to the shelf closest to me and placing the now finished book next to it's older sibling, eyeing both books closely.

Hmm, season four is indeed much bigger than season three. I thought it'd be more tactical, but maybe I should have kept to the normal format instead..."

As I debate with myself whether or not it was a mistake to make season three of the fourth generation only half the size of the other seasons, I can't help but look around the room which I call home.

It's a fairly simple green painted room with sparse furniture. There is the desk which is set in front of me as I sit in my chair and write. There are two sofas, one in each end of the room, which I sit in to read.

Most noticeably, though, are the bookshelves. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. All but five are filled with books, and in the books are stories. My stories. Six generations, and an infinite number of adventures and lives.

But there is more. There is a painting. I only dare to look at it for a moment, before looking away. It causes me too much pain. Yet I can't get rid of it, because if I do, I get rid of the past. Of everything I hold tight to.

In reality, it's a beautiful painting. Me, my husband and my two daughters, happily smiling for reasons I can't remember. It's been a long time since I had them by my side. Since I made them happy.

Now that the forbidden thoughts have gotten grip of my mind, I might as well let them and their pain consume me. Let the hard, unfair reality wash over me and for once not do anything to stop it.

I desperately run through the room, the hollow echo of my hooves against the stone floor filling the emptiness around me, that is this life.

Despite not taking more than a few minutes, it feel like it takes years for me to run pass shelf after shelf that I've filled with my creations and stories, each one of them a brick in a gigantic wall I built. But now I do not want the wall. I want what's on the other side.

Finally there is no more shelves, and all that is in front if me is a sofa, and a stone wall. A real one, this time, not one of the mind, like my books. I'd hurt my face if I ran into it, and for a moment I feel tempted to do it on purpose.

Resisting the urge to crash, I turn left and manage to avoid the wall with a centimeter or so to spare before coming to an abrupt stop, toppling over and landing on the couch.

Stretching out on the couch, I used my magic to levitate something that would ease the pain in my mind, a painkiller, you could call it. I see the object I need steadily move forward through the air, forced to defy the laws of gravity by the warm red aura surrounding it.

As it come to a halt in front of my face, I extend my forelegs and take it in my hooves, causing the red aura to disappear. It’s a small, ugly thing made with drawing paper and an old carton that used to contain corn flakes. Yes, from the outside it certainly didn't look very special with the unevenly cut out, red painted cover and even more clumsily cut out and glued on letters spelling “The book about me”.

But for me, it was worth more than all the tales I’ve ever written combined, more than there were words or numbers to describe.

Using my magic, I carefully open the book on it’s first page, which, I notice, even have the number one written in the corner with a bright yellow crayon.

The page itself have the word ‘Family’ spelled on the top and a drawing of four alicorns cover the rest of the page. The drawings themselves are just like the rest of the book: simple and crudely drawn.

bringing the book closer to my face I study each one of the four alicorn. The upper-right one have a long red mane and tail and next to it it says ‘mom’. The one next to it is bigger and with green hair, and next to it it says ‘dad’.

But it’s the two one on the bottom of the page that break my heart. One is pink, and net to it it says ‘Celly’. The last one is the smallest and dark blue, and next to it it says ‘me’.

Feeling that this was a bad idea, I violently close the book and look around the room looking for a distraction.

My eyes stop at the painting again, and questions, filled with doubt, cloud my mind until I can’t think, not even think out an answer to a single question. But one question manage to push back the others, making sure that I can’t ignore it.

Why?

In reality it isn’t a question, because I know why. The sorrow that fill my heart hurt too much, so I used my talent and created an alternate world.

I created a world where me and my husband died, but my daughters, Luna and Celestia, the sun and the moon, survived. Because they should have survived. Not me, not their dad, them.

Because they gave us meaning. But now I got no meaning, all I got is my stories, depicting the world like I want it to been. Like it could’ve been. Like it should’ve been. Like it will be...

Author's Note:

This story is written by Keam!

If you liked this story, we advise you check her out.

Comments

[survivor]

a bit dark...