A Writer's Tale

by n

Dinner for Two

The next morning, Fable awoke to find himself hugging Ghost very tightly. It was almost cuddling. Here he was, living out the books that he had read and written over the various years of his existence. And then he saw Ghost’s eyes flickering in the sunlight, a yawn beginning to form and leave her mouth. All at once, a mixture of emotions rushed through Fable. Incredulity, because it was as if somepony scripted it. Mirth, because of the incredulity. Foreboding, because he dreaded what Ghost would do once she found out. Most of all though, was a feeling of contentment. It felt just right.

Then Ghost realized what was going on, and immediately wormed her way out of Fable’s grasp. “W-what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, highly suspicious of his motives. Her lithe body was in position to cripple him at any edge, tense with anticipation.

“Just a sleeping habit. I grew up with a rather large stuffed banana you see,” said Fable.

“A stuffed banana. Wow, that’s...” said Ghost, amusedly surprised by the quality of random afforded by the banana. In other words, she started laughing her head off at the ridiculous prospect. How did his parents get a stuffed banana anyway?

“I know. I get that a lot. People never seem to focus on the fact that it’s just another stuffed toy. Bananas are comedic it seems,” muttered Fable, apparently bitter on the topic.

“It’s a banana Fable,” replied Ghost.

“I still don’t get it. Never have, never will,” muttered Fable, a little more audibly.

Shaking her head, Ghost taunted, “Geezers these days.”

“Stealing our line now rapscallion? Just wait till I get there with my cane,” snarled Fable, playing along with the parody.

Then both of them were laughing, the incident forgotten entirely. None of them noticed that they had created a new ending. After cleaning up camp, the two took a slow stroll back to the town, having places to go to and things to do. Fable decided to do one last thing to thank Ghost for getting him out of the funk, and humoring him for a while.

“Say, would you like to have dinner with me? My treat,” offered the weathered stallion.

“Actually, that would be great,” exclaimed the excited mare. She was eager to have another chance to talk with one that was as legendary as she. “When and where,” she continued.

Fable grinned. “You’ll see.”

And then he was gone. Ghost stared at the void before her. That’s what I’m good at. They had more similarities than she thought, even if he could be a dick at some points. As she showered, needing to clean herself after the romp, she wondered about how to present herself for the restaurant. Casual? Formal?

In the end, when she finally got out and dried herself off, she decided to go for a mix, with a slight hint of perfume, and a simple dress. With everything in order, she lay on her bed, waiting. Then she jolted from the bed. What if he wasn’t coming? How long would she have to wait? She shuddered at that thought. Ghost had never liked waiting after all. The door was left swinging open, hoofsteps fading into the distance. You didn’t find a ghost. They found you.

First things first was to gather information. She didn’t know precisely where Fable was, but he had to be within town, meaning the search radius wasn’t large enough so that she couldn’t handle it. Door after door, question after question, and Ghost was beginning to wonder. Ponies couldn’t help but to embellish the lessons that the old stallion had taught them. It was almost as if...

Things were starting to seem eerily familiar, and Ghost was definitely going to get to the bottom of everything. Yet every pony she met only served to further dampen her spirits. As far as ponies were concerned, Fable was nothing but a myth that was actually helpful for once. Even though Ghost had talked to him, that lonely old stallion, he was still alone. Despite that, despite her knowing that he was real, it was almost as if he was a fable, just like she was a ghost.

And then she turned around, mane already frazzled, and saw him, saw him with that cocky grin on his face that she loved and hated so much.

“Shall we go?” asked Fable pleasantly, breaking the exasperated mare’s state of shock.

“W-what?” replied Ghost, confused and unable to comprehend what was going on.

“Shall we go?” repeated Fable, extending his hoof.

“I-I, alright,” sighed Ghost, too tired to argue. She took Fable’s hoof, and allowed him to lead her.

So they trotted along the dirt path, Fable staring confidently ahead, while Ghost couldn’t seem to get her fidgeting under control. Every muscle in her body screamed that something was wrong; every bone groaned and made her want to turn back. She endured anyway, knowing that whether Fable wanted it or not, he needed help, and she wouldn’t let him down. Especially not when she could feel his pain, and even more, relate to the irrepressible hunger for company. That basic need for friends, for those close and in some ways, similar, had been denied for so long that she could almost taste the deep void of insanity that had been created.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Fable came to an abrupt stop, causing Ghost to have to regain her balance. She gave a slight huff at the indignity of her treatment, but Fable seemed too distracted to hear. When she looked at his face, the wistful look prevented her from trying to grab his attention.

After a brief moment of silence, perhaps so that he could take time to remember, Fable solemnly whispered, “Ah, yes. This is the place.”

Ghost looked up and saw the building, shingles missing from the roof. The boards as well were in some places rotting, and the whole affair was in a state of disrepair. She shuddered, a small grimace forming despite her desire that Fable never be hurt again. Her hoof came up to cover her muzzle before she could say anything stupid.

Fable walked up and knocked. “You in there, old mate?”

Ghost was almost afraid that the door would break in from the knocking. When the door was suddenly yanked open, she almost screamed. A pony of indeterminate age stared out at Fable and Ghost. His face was filled with distrust, as he took an extra moment to examine Ghost thoroughly. She almost felt exposed by his stare, indecent even.

“Nice date you got there, eh?” the stallion at the door finally said, a wide, knowing smirk plastered all over his face.

Fable took a brief glance at Ghost’s increasingly red face. “It’s just repaying a favor.” He was not amused, and recognized how distressed Ghost was being made.

“Alright, alright. Just come in and sit down then,” said the stallion, who moved out of the entrance to let Fable and Ghost in.

Ghost was wary the entire way down the hall to the dining room. The inside of the building was no different from the outside. At points, glass was strewn across the dusty floor, remnants of the various picture frames that once held photographs and paintings. Fable seemed to pay it no heed, though, and she was determined to do the same, albeit if only to prove that she didn’t fall under the typical stereotypes thrust upon mares. Gingerly, she positioned her hooves so that none of the shards would cut into the more sensitive and delicate parts. Infection in the hoof could be deadly, even with the best of medical attention.

The dining room itself proved to be a vast improvement, a miracle that defied nature. It was here that the paintings well matched the painted and maintained walls. The wood floor glittered, polished to a great degree. And the chandelier, oh the chandelier: it was a magnificent thing of gold and diamond, casting an angelic halo onto the circular table in the center that managed to be simple, yet an aesthetic masterpiece at the same time, made of strong and unblemished oak. When she sat down, she felt like nobility, and at the same time, herself. Fable sat down at the opposite end.

“Food will be ready in a moment,” yelled the unnamed stallion from another room.

Glancing around in confusion, the mare could not help but feel that the voice was out of place.

Chuckling, Fable said, “He’s a little eccentric. Don’t worry about it.”

“A little you say?” queried Ghost sarcastically.

“Just a little,” agreed the old stallion.

A wonderful aroma creeped its way about the room, permeating every corner. Ghost couldn’t help but to lick her lips in anticipation, trying to keep the wave of saliva at bay. The stallion across from her is more experienced with it, but he too cannot help but to wear a silly grin.

The unnamed stallion walked out of a door with a silver tray. He was dressed in a fancy butler suit, and looked out of place. His gait was not quite enough to be the calculated strut that it should’ve been, and his back was imperceptibly bent too far. None of it mattered, for what the lone tray promised was far too tantalizing for the pair at the table to notice. The crystal note that rang out as the tray lightly danced upon the table sent shivers down the mare’s spine.

Ghost’s eyes were too focused on the platter before her, anticipating what delicacy would await her, to notice the plate that slowly slid into place, along with essential pieces of cutlery. To her, it was slow motion as the covering was slowly lifted. Some dark part of her mind was aroused even, the tantalizing striptease of the food was almost erotic. Undoubtedly, Fable’s friend was an artist.

What she saw when it was finally unveiled was somehow disappointing, yet indescribably pleasing at the same time. A single, solitary daisy sandwich lay in the center, neatly cut in half. Piercing both of them was a toothpick with a tomato. There were other crisp vegetables as well. She couldn’t tell what all of them were. Here and there she could see lettuce, spinach, parsley, little odds and ends. As messy as it looks, she knew that the first bite would be instantly gratifying.

The halves were levitated into the respective plates. Ghost barely stopped herself from grabbing the sandwich midair. She realizes that she is hungry, starving even. Food has never quite made her feel this way before. When her teeth sank into the sandwich, she realized that she had gone to heaven. And then the moment ended, the sandwich already within the confines of her stomach, slowly digesting. She blinked.

Fable was sitting across from her, still on his first bite. She watched in fascination as he slowly took another. Then she became embarrassed, knowing that she has wolfed down the sandwich ungracefully. She continued to stare at him until he finished, watching every movement. When he did so, he looked up at her.

“I told you didn’t I.” Fable grinned a toothy grin.

“I didn’t expect it to be so, so...” For once, Ghost found herself at loss for words.

“As I recall, you were practically on the floor begging for more,” interrupted the unnamed stallion.

“You still remember that?” asked Fable in mock shock.

“WIll never forget,” answered the stallion, who was now grinning.

Fable laughed, followed by the stallion, followed by Ghost. They all rolled on the floor together, hooves clutching their sides. Then Fable looks outside. The moonlight reminded him of something important.

“I have to go,” the old stallion said urgently. Without pausing for the answer, he dashes out the door.

“I guess I’ll be going to,” said Ghost apologetically. With that, she rushed out after Fable.

The remaining stallion shook his head. “Kids these days...” He got up to go to clean the dishes.

Every corner that whipped around proved that Fable was getting farther and farther away. Ghost redoubled her efforts, but it was to no avail. Nothing she did seemed to be able to propel her to that point where she would overtake Fable.

“Wait!” she called, but never did Fable look back. As she neared the edge of town, where she was sure there were no corners for Fable to hide behind, he was gone.

Ghost could only trot back to the inn.