Chapter 1
The pony stopped to catch it's breath. It breathed over and over again, but continued to become increasingly dizzy. The pony fell to its knees, then to its stomach. Its panicked eyes looking around, weakness completely overtook it's body.
The pony wore a black hood over its head, blonde strands of hair hung from within. Attached on its dressed midsection was a black leather saddle. Chain link reins connected the saddle to a shed sized wagon filled from canvas top to wooden bottom with the pony's worldly possessions.
The pony wanted to stay where it was as the ground's coolness had begun to sooth it's overworked body, but it knew it had to get up. It stood up then shook its head hard until it saw the ground tilt and everything in the distance blend into one incomprehensible image.
“Whoa...” it uttered in a feminine voice.
She gingerly rubbed her eyes until she saw more clearly. Looking to her left she saw a few houses, but those houses did not interest her so she looked to her right. Many yards away from her was a railroad and a rectangular shaped building with a thatched roof. She wanted to go there to look around, but thought it would be best for her to continue her journey.
“Just...” she huffed.
From where she stood she noticed the dirt path she followed led to a wooden bridge. The bridge arched like a frightened cat's back.
“A little further...” She huffed as she started to move forward.
She looked to the sky. Worrisome pitch black storm clouds approached, raindrops fell to the ground. Thunder boomed loudly. Between her and the storm was a collection of buildings both big and small. The storm wasn't overhead the town yet, but soon would be. Wind blew gently against the pony's ears as she stepped onto the bridge.
The sound of crashing boxes banged loudly within the wagon. A tower of boxes stacked on the left side fell over onto the right side. In response the pony crouched down in fear. After a few seconds had passed she peeped inside the wagon to check on a box she had labeled “Kitty.” It sat atop other boxes inside her wagon.
The pony's lips dropped, her cheeks tensed and her eyes began to water as she said.
“Kitty, are you okay?”
She heard a light tapping sound within the box.
“Okay, sorry.” Replied the pony.
The pony walked to the front of her wagon and started pulling it along the path. Eventually the path led her into a neighborhood. Along the path were several khaki colored homes with pink framed windows. The pony peeped inside a few homes, but nothing caught her eye.
A few yards down the path she saw a green street sign which read Stirrup Street. Turning onto Stirrup Street, she quickly noticed a sudden change in the area's overall appearance. The buildings here had the same color scheme the others had, but the paint had chipped and faded. Clearly, the buildings hadn't received a fresh coat of paint in a long time. Paper and plastic products littered the path as if those who lived on Stirrup Street did not care enough to keep the place clean. The pony heard a clunk sound then looked to her left and saw a fallen trash can. Standing over it was a white and brown colored dog with beady black eyes. The dog glared at the pony then barked.
“Stupid Dog!” Replied the pony.
The dog ran towards her. It's eyes widened as a fiery sense of wrath began to swirl within them. It barked at her, repeatedly.
Quickly the pony locked eyes with the dog. Standing tall over the charging dog she raised a hoof into the air as if to strike.
“Stay away from me!” The pony's deep throaty growl rattled the dog's eardrums.
The dog slowed its pace, then stopped in front of the pony's legs. It apologetically lowered it's head before the pony.
“Sit down!” she commanded.
Instinctively, the dog sat down. Fearful of being smacked by the pony the dog remained completely still. In response the pony reached for the dogs collar and read the tag on it.
“Winona, huh?” asked the pony. Winona uttered a sharp whine at the pony. “Where is home” she asked.
Winona looked around then looked up at the pony. Winona's jaw hung open, her tongue wagging as her lips sagged.
“Home?” asked the pony.
Winona turned to her left and ran up the street. The pony wanted to know where the dog was going so she gave chase. Winona ran to a four way intersection then turned left. Upon turning left Winona dove head first under a nearby porch, scurrying between two rafters. Winona pressed herself against a dirt mound so she would not be seen by the pony when it ran by.
The pony walked along the road, but could not see Winona anywhere. She did not think she would find the dog so she kept walking. After a few minutes she saw a large four story building. In her opinion the building's design had to of been based off a sugarholic's wildest fantasy. The outside of the building was adorned with white frosting, gumdrops, candy canes and chocolate chips. She couldn't help but notice how the third and fourth floor was cylinder shaped and looked like a cupcake with candles on top.
By the front door was a post sign that read “Sugarcube Corner is open for business.”
She was suddenly stunned with amazement. “So that's Sugarcube Corner...” she said, her voice trailing off.
The pony disconnected her saddle's chain link reins from her wagon. She threw her hood down and pushed through Sugarcube Corner's front door. Before she could even look around she was approached by a pink colored pony wearing a white apron.
“Hi! Welcome to Sugarcube corner.” The pink pony's shrill voice rang through the room. “Take a seat where ever you like. And whats your name?”
“Pah,Pah,Pocornia!” replied the robed pony.
Pocornia looked around the room. She saw other ponies sitting at diner booths, their arms moving about as they scraped their silverware across their plates. Listening for a moment she heard them speak to one another about trivial topics, like the weather or their children. The noise they made sounded very unsettling to Pocornia.
“Uh...” Pocornia.
“Whats wrong?” asked the Pink Pony.
The pink pony gave the robed pony a hurried look, noticing how her legs and body started to tremble.
“Pah,Pah,Pocornia!” replied Pocornia.
The pink pony studied the robed pony more thoroughly, noticing how her garments and equipment caused her to appear mysterious. Nonetheless the pink pony was going to treat the robed pony like a valued customer.
“My name is Pocornia!” Pocornia tried to hide her nervousness by forcing a lippy smile.
The pink pony giggled.
“Your voice sounds really high pitched like mine. My name is Pinkie Pie.”
“Uh...arn't you suppose to ask if it was for here or to go because its for here. I'm actually supposed to meet a pony named Filthy Rich here.” Said Pocornia.
Pinkie Pie nodded knowingly. “Oh yeah. He is over there!” Pinkie Pie pointed toward a booth in the corner of the room. A beige colored pony wearing a dark blue suit at alone at the table with a plate chocolate cake in front of him.
Pocornia walked towards the indicated table, not knowing Pinkie Pie followed behind her. She saw several ponies look up from their plates as she walked by. Filthy Rich did the same as she approached.
“Are you Filthy Rich?” asked Pocornia.
“Yes, and you must be Ms.Popper.” Filthy Rich replied.
“Pah,” Pocorina paused, closed her mouth then slowly pronounced her name “Pocornia...Pocornia Pipen Popper, but just Pah, Pah...Pocornia is fine.”
Filthy reach waved his arm across his table as if he were inviting Pocornia to take a seat.
“You can call me Mr.Rich.” said Filthy Rich.
The pink pony approached Filthy Rich's booth as Pocornia took a seat across from Filthy Rich.
“So my name's Pinkie Pie. What can I start you off with?” asked Pinkie Pie.
“Whadda yah got?” asked pocornia
“Sarsaprillas, Cherry Limeades, how bout one of those!” Replied Pinkie Pie.
“A cherry Limeade,” said Pocornia.
“Okay, one Cherry Limeade coming up. And to eat?” asked Pinkie Pie.
Pocornia looked down at a open menu left on the table, then looked up at Pinkie Pie. “I'm not very hungry,” she replied.
“Oh okay then. I'll have your Cherry Limeade out to you in a bit.” Said Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie Pie walked away from Filthy Rich's table, forgetting to grab the menu in front of Pocornia.
“I'll move this out of the way,” said Filthy Rich.
Filthy rich pushed his plate of chocolate cake aside then he reached underneath the table for a suitcase. Sitting up he placed it atop the table between himself and Pocornia.
“You looked through the first draft of our agreement I mailed you right?” asked Filthy Rich. The suitcase made a audible click noise as Filthy Rich opened it.
“Yeah, yeah,” Replied Pocornia.
“You understand the terms of the agreement?” he asked.
“I looked through everything,” replied Pocornia.
“Good. However I am still obligated to verbally inform you that if you complete your work within the allotted time, you will be entitled to the first right clause,” he explained. His tone reminded Pocornia of that of a judge speaking to the accused, but she let it pass.
“I know that, and I'll have that property fixed up before the deadline,” she stated confidently.
“I'm sure you will,” he replied. “And I'm sure it will be a nice place to live. A picture is worth a thousand words and the before and after pictures in your portfolio are nothing short of amazing!”
She wasn't quite convinced of his sincerity, but only replied with a polite “Thank you.”
“What do you have in mind for the interior?” asked Filthy Rich.
“I was thinking about painting the walls a blueish gray color and laying down a sort of kahki colored carpet, as opposed to doing what I was originally going to do. The white wall color and wood floor panels...I just think blueish gray and khaki would give the interior a sort of soothing look,” she explained.
“Either way, it will be interesting to see the fruits of your labor. Right now, the inside of that log cabin looks like a bunch of gophers moved in and tried to renovate the place. The paint on the walls is coming up, holes in the walls and in the floor. The carpeting is all torn up. There are cracks along the walls and along the ceiling. Water damage in both the down stairs and upstairs bathrooms. Four out of five bedrooms are damaged with insulation sticking out of the walls and hallways. Its just a big mess!”
Pinkie Pie approached Filthy Rich's table with the Cherry Limeade Pocornia had ordered and placed it in front of her.
“Here you go,” she said.
“Thanks,” replied Pocornia.
“I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I heard Filthy Rich say something about a log cabin. You two wouldn't happen to be talking about that log cabin just outside of town would you?”
“Actually yeah. I'm gonna fix the place up and live there,” replied Pocornia.
“Oh really! Ponyville is a wonderful place to live!” shouted Pinkie Pie.
“So I've told her,” retorted Filthy Rich, waving his hoof at Pinkie Pie as if to suggest she move along.
“I'll let you two finish up,” said Pinkie Pie as walked away.
“That was rude,” said Pocornia.
“I am a business pony who's on a schedule, but I can pay for your drink and an appropriate tip,” replied Filthy Rich.
“Okay,” she hesitantly replied.
“As I stated in the letters I've sent you, I'm entitled to the first right clause as a standard finders fee. I charge banks who hire ponies like me to find ponies like you...but I'm not interested in the property. Too much trouble as far as I'm concerned,” said Filthy Rich.
“The interior is pretty messed up,” added Pocornia.
The business pony's eyes wondered about the room in a laconic manner. To her it seemed as if he were looking at everything, and yet at nothing. “I still wonder how it would do on public auction if you weren't interested in it,” he said, still looking away. She said nothing in return.
Filthy rich took a handful of bits from his pocket and placed them on the table. Then he stood up.
“Here are the keys,” he said, taking a ring with three keys attached and placing them in front of Pocornia.
She scooped them up. “Don't worry, I will do my work,” she said with a nod.
Without another word Filthy Rich walked away.
Pocornia brought her lips to the straw in her cherry limeade and took a sip. Her eyes grew wide in delight. The drink tasted wonderful, particularly given her time on the road, and she smiled. Without pausing she drank all of the cherry limeade until her straw pulled nothing but air.
Leaving her now empty glass on the table Pocornia got up to leave Sugarcube Corner. Once outside she reattached herself to her wagon and headed up the street. She soon crossed a four way intersection which intersected Stirrup Street. Despite his brusque nature her audience with Filthy Rich had imparted a sense of happiness she hadn't felt even an hour before.
Pocornia crossed the street, continued along until she reached a T-intersection. Turning left she followed the road out of town until it crossed a dirt path. She looked up that way, wondering where it went. Further along the road forked, and Pocornia bore to the right. The path she now followed soon passed what appeared to be a cottage carve from and inside a large mound. She paused to marvel at this, never before having seen such a thing.
“A home carved into the ground...” She muttered softly. Who would live in such a place, she mused. Perhaps she would meet them, and be invited to see inside the cottage. “Living underground” She laughed. “I crack myself up sometimes....”
Pocornia continued along her way. Several minutes passed before she saw her destination, a log cabin resting just off the road amid a few trees. Pulling her wagon into the yard she moved to the front of the cabin and paused to look it over.
It was large, larger than she had thought it would be. Certainly enough room for a single pony to call her own. As for the appearance her new lodging exemplified the term log-cabin. The whole thing was made of logs, just as one would expect. There was a small entrance-way leading to the front door, that framed by two windows, one on either side. It was...quaint...she thought. Best to go look inside.
There was a small garage attached to the right side of the cabin. Pocornia detached herself from her wagon, and then pushed it inside. From the pile of her belongings tied to the wagon she pulled a box punched with air-holes. Moving to the front door she unlocked her new home and carried the box inside. The door opened to the living room, and Pocornia sat down in the middle, holding the box in her lap. She looked about the room and sighed.
The inside of the log-cabin was in far worse shape than the outside. Holes were in the walls, the carpet was worn and shredded, and stains marked almost everything. One of the windows was broken, allowing a draft through the room. There were no lights, no lanterns.
Pocornia sighed again. There was much work to do if she were to honor her commitment to herself, and to Filthy Rich. Much, much work.
“But not right now,” she said aloud. It was growing dark, and she needed to sleep. The work would still be there tomorrow, waiting.
Pocornia returned to the garage to fetch her sleeping gear, then headed upstairs. It might be warmer there, she reasoned. Or I might feel happier up there, she told herself.
Pocornia found what would be her bedroom, spread out her sleeping gear, and released her kitty from the box. She left the bedroom door open so it could wander. She laid down, covered herself, and tried not to think. Over time, she drifted into a deep slumber.
Pocornia breathed lightly as she lay on her bed, tucked under several blankets in order to keep warm in her poorly heated home. She breathed again then tilted her head a little bit and sniffed the frigid winter air. It seemed empty, blank and hollow...like the majority of her tattered home.
Minutes passed before she felt a need to change her position. She rolled onto her side and sniffed the air again, but a bit more intently than the first time. Something smelled different. Pulling her blankets in she frowned, lips tense and brows lowered. Rolling over again while sniffing the air, she shuddered lightly. Her bottom lip began to quiver, she started to sweat profusely. Slowly she slunk deeper under her covers as she started to convulse violently, whining like a frightened infant.
Her nightmare was a horrendous one...
Pocornia snapped awake, mouth agape with panic. She sprung up, frantically wiping water out of her eyes. Then she repeatedly circled the room with her glossy eyes. Past the watered down darkness she saw the door was shut, locked. The two windows were shut and locked. She squinted hard and peered through the thick glass. The moon still dominated the night sky and the stars shined with a soft tremulous light.
All of these reassurances did not lessen the strain on her youthful heart.
Pocornia laid down and drew a breath. Her chest raised up, filled with air then lowered as she released a long depressed sigh. She felt warm teardrops slide out of her luminous orange eyes, down her turquoise cheeks. And end their descent by soaking into her long blonde mane.
“I thought this would be finished once after I moved...” Pocornia whispered.
Driven by her sense of despair she rolled onto her stomach and spread her wings, wrapping them around her head. She tightened arms around her thick pillow then forced her muzzle deep into the cushion.
The Pegasus forced a heavy breath through the fabric and screamed into its misshapen body; “Popcorn, Popcorn, Popcorn!”
Pocornia did not think it would be good idea to lay around and wait for her wits to recover. Leaving her kitty, who slept somewhere in front of her rolled out mattress, alone in her bedroom did not sound like a good idea either.
“Hrmmmm...” Her soft cry was little more than a murmur.
Pocornia rolled out of bed onto the hardwood floor. She made her way out of her room, leaving her door open in case her kitty needed to get out. By habit she broke into a trot and moved quickly through the hallway, down the stairs, into the living room and out the front door. That she left open as well.
Pocornia found herself shifting through the anonymity nightfall tends to bring, along with all of its elegant music. She listened to the wind. It sounded light and smooth like a child's deceitful chuckle. The wind blew and swept snow into the air as if it were confetti. It blew against the trees and forced their limbs to drop their icy tentacles, producing loud, sharp, continuous clangs. It blew in-between buildings along the road, producing what sounded like joyful whispers. She thought it sounded like a party.
In response Pocornia began to stomp along the road, huffing at the collective noise. Her eyes scattered in different directions until they locked themselves on a massive lake in the distance. She walked to the lake then onto a dock which extended fifty feet out over a frozen body of water.
She sat herself down on the edge of the dock and surveyed the calmer world below. A few small fish floated aimlessly underneath the ice. She knew fish swam around when the weather was warm, but wondered how they kept warm when it is so cold. She thought about this for some time before anything else.
Moonlight bathed the ice. The light reflected up onto the dock, lightly illuminating Pocornia. She huffed then leaned back and placed her hooves behind her to hold herself up. She delved into her thoughts, recalling her nightmare. It was not the first one she had and it certainly would not be the last. The imagery had been particularly morbid. Thinking about it made her feel scared. She closed her eyes and raised a hoof to her head, trying to mentally expel the images swirling around inside her mind. Once she had cleared her mind, she sniffed, crying softly.
“Excuse me.” Came a stumbling voice out of the darkness.
The voice sounded incredibly soft to Pocornia as if it belonged to a wisp of a pony. Her triangular shaped ears sprung up as the words “Are you okay?” gently brushed up against her eardrums like a cat curling itself around her leg. She cocked her head over her shoulder to look for the owner of that voice and saw a yellow colored pony with a bright pink mane standing a few feet behind her.
“I heard you crying.” continued the yellow pony.
Something about that kind and tender voice perplexed Pocornia.
“Your not...mad are you because I can leave if you want me to,” the yellow pony offered.
Pocornia shook her head. “Uh no I'm not mad. Don't go.”
“Oh, okay,” replied the yellow pony.
“C'mere and sit with me.” Pocornia said.
“Um, alright,” replied the yellow Pegasus.
The yellow Pegasus momentarily eyed Pocornia from afar then slowly approached and sat down next to her.
“I saw you walking from my cottage window...Actually you looked like a black figure, but I thought you were some pony I knew so I got worried.” The yellow Pegasus paused “I know a lot of Ponyville ponys, but anyway. My name is Fluttershy.”
“Pocornia” Pocornia replied blankly.
“Its nice to meet you, Pocornia. I mean it would be nice if it wasn't dark and you weren't upset,” stated Fluttershy.
“Yeah, it would be nice if I wasn't tired...and having trouble sleeping.”
A moment of silence passed by.
“So um...” Fluttershy tapped her hooves together, “Why are you having trouble sleeping?”
“I just moved into the log cabin down the road and moving was stressful.” Pocornia replied.
“Where did you move from?” asked Fluttershy
“Hollowshades,” replied Pocornia.
Pocornia sighed, folding her arms.
“Stuff got broken and lost. Plus the log cabin I'm living in isn't in the best of shape. Now, I have to fix it all.”
“Would you like to have some tea at my cottage with me and my animals?” asked Fluttershy.
Pocornia turned her head to look at Fluttershy.
“Tea is very relaxing and It might help you sleep.” Continued Fluttershy.
Pocornia nodded.
Fluttershy and Pocornia stood up. Together they left the dock and walked up the path. They said a few things about themselves to one another while they walked. Pocornia pointed out her log cabin to Fluttershy as they passed it. Fluttershy noticed how the log cabin's logs were chipped and dry rotted.
“That doesn't look too bad,” Fluttershy said.
“I can fix it!” Pocornia retorted
“I'm sure you can,” replied Fluttershy.
The two ponies continued along the path which led them to a cottage. As they approached it appeared to be built out of a large mound. Pocornia looked the cottage over, noting how the outer-wall was sphere shaped and how the windows were a mix of oval, square, and circle shapes. The cottage had many birdhouses and bird nest attached to it, which Pocornia thought to be an unorthodox aesthetic. Fluttershy approached the front door and tried to push it open, but it wouldn't budge.
“The door is locked,” said Fluttershy
Pocornia pointed her hoof at the window next to the front door. “Bunny in the window!” her voice loud with enthusiasm.
A small white bunny stood on the windows windowsill with a smaller gold key tightly clutched within it's paws. It's beady black eyes met with Fluttershy's frustrated glare as Fluttershy stepped in front of the window. Fluttershy placed her front hoofs against the window's glass and drew a quick breath “Angel Bunny you open that door right now!” commanded Fluttershy.
Angel Bunny saw daggers in Fluttershy's eyes and realized he shouldn't provoke his mother any further. It took him mere seconds to open the door. He jumped down onto the landing by the front door. Fluttershy strolled past him, straight into the kitchen as if he wasn't even there. Pocornia walked in then stopped to greet Angel Bunny with a sly smile. If this were my pet, she thought to herself, instead of smiling she would be growling at him.
“I'll have our tea ready in a few minutes so make yourself at home Pocornia!” called Fluttershy.
Pocornia's eyes wandered around the room. She saw a green couch at the end, under which was a pink rug. Next to the couch was a small circular table with a framed picture of Fluttershy and her pet bunny, and next to the table was a unoccupied dog bed made out of a basket, currently occupied by only a simple white pillow. From all these little observations Pocornia thought she could assume Fluttershy liked animals. She walked towards the couch and sat down on it.
“Nice place you got here,” Pocornia shouted.
“Thank you,” Fluttershy replied.
Fluttershy came from the kitchen with a tray in her hooves. Atop the tray were to steaming mugs of tea. Fluttershy sat next to Pocornia and placed the tray between them on the couch.
“Smells good” Commented Pocornia
“Oh thank you, its Jasmine” replied Fluttershy.
Both ponies took their glasses off the tray and raised them to their mouths. Pocornia lowered hers and said “Its just warm enough to be okay to drink.”
“Yeah I don't boil tea very long. Just until the temperature is right.” she replied.
“I think you like animals.” Pocornia said.
Fluttershy chuckled lightly. “Yes I do like animals. I have birds, mice, squirrels, dogs, cats and even a bear!” said Fluttershy.
Pocornia squinted her eyes as if she was trying to measure the validity of Fluttershy's words.
“A bear?” asked Pocornia.
“Yep,” replied Fluttershy non-Chantilly.
A moment of silence overtook the two ponies. They continued to sip their tea.
“So Pocornia...what do you do for a living?” asked Fluttershy.
“I flip properties for profit,” replied Pocornia.
“Oh wow,” said Fluttershy
“I go in, clean em up, repair any damage, make the place look nice then sell it to the highest bidder,” Pocornia continued.
“Is that what your doing to your log cabin?” asked Fluttershy.
“Yes and no,” Pocornia paused and raised her cup of tea to her mouth.
“Jasmine tea is very relaxing. I'm glad your enjoying it,” said Fluttershy.
“I definitely feel a little lighter,” replied Pocornia.
“So about the log cabin?” asked Fluttershy.
“Oh yeah right. My plan is to restore the log cabin, place a bid and live there.”
“Yah know, now that I think about it, I know some ponies who would be interested in that log cabin,” Fluttershy stated.
Pocornia waved her hoof dismissively. “They won't get the chance. See as part of my contract for the log cabin I'm entitled to the first right clause, which states everyone who worked on restoring the property gets to bid on it before it goes to public auction and their bids are hidden from everyone else. So long as no pony out bids me on the public auction, by default the bank will be forced to do business with me,” she explained.
“So much for that then huh?” replied Fluttershy.
“Well some pony could still outbid me, but I'd be allowed to make another bid and that bid would be hidden as well,” continued Pocornia.
Fluttershy looked down into her mug of tea, gazing deeply into the dark liquid which somehow appeared to take on the depth and mystery of a bottomless ocean.
“Ponyville is a really nice place to live. I really, really like it here and I know you will to so I hope you won't have trouble sleeping anymore,” said Fluttershy.
Pocornia smiled at Fluttershy's jester of kindness. “Thank you Fluttershy. It is nice to know other ponies like living in this town.”
“So do you have any animals, Pocornia?” asked Fluttershy.
“Actually yeah I have a kitty at home...Speaking of which I should probably go. She might need me.”
“Oh, well, okay,” replied Fluttershy.
Pocornia got up and started walking towards the front door.
“Pocornia.” said Fluttershy.
Pocornia turned around to look at Fluttershy.
“Yeah?” asked Pocornia.
“I could show you around town if you want, give you a tour.”
“Sure, thank you,” Pocornia said smiling.
Pocornia turned to the front door. She opened it and walked through, gently closing it behind her. She walked out to the street leading from Fluttershy's cottage toward her log cabin. Oddly she felt warmed by her encounter with the seemingly shy animal loving Pegasus named Fluttershy. Perhaps they could fly together sometime, she thought. Involuntarily the thought caused her to ruffle her wings.
Her log cabin came into view. She passed through the front yard and up to her open door. At that moment she couldn't remember why she had left it open, but the act of closing it behind her seemed to trigger another involuntarily response. The room felt cold, and oppressive. She retreated, her back brushing against the door, as if the log cabin itself did not welcome her.
“Kitty!” she called
She surveyed the room, half expecting something to spring from the darkness. Marshaling her resolve she began to move about the room, toward the door which led to the kitchen. That room was not only empty, but somehow devoid. The counters which stretched along the back and the side of the room were bare. The sight caused her to think she should unpack her kitchen supplies from her wagon tomorrow morning, just to spite the room.
“Kitty, where are you?” she asked.
She moved to the kitchen counter and stood in front of it. There was a light tapping sound from above her, causing her to look up. There it was, a large black hairy branch-like legged spider the size of a dinner plate, hanging from a strand of web. Pocornia's head and eyes followed as it lowered itself to the counter, coming to rest on all eight legs.
“Oh...” she uttered.
Pocornia raised her arm to the counter and rested it there. The spider stood idle for a moment, gazing at here with her characteristic beady-little eyes. It reached out with its legs, feeling along Pocornia's arm, then slowly started to crawl up along it. She noticed her pet's legs trailed along the scars on her arm, scars sunk deep at an angle so no other could easily see them. The scars spelled her name. Well, a version of it, anyway. The actual word was “Popcorn,” but it would do.
The spider moved to her bicep and stopped. Pocornia looked down at it with a smile. In response the spider retracted its fangs, so as not to accidentally stab her.
“Kiiiiiiiitttty” Pocornia moaned in a light raspy voice.
Pocornia turned around very slowly so her movement wouldn't spook her kitty. Despite sharing a mutually felt connection with the spider, she had been bitten before. She made her way to her bedroom with her spider on her arm then laid herself down on her bed which was nothing more than a yoga mat, several blankets and a plump pillow.
“Go to sleep now.” she told her spider.
Pocornia felt the spider crawl further up her arm, up her shoulder then jump off of her onto the hardwood floor.
“I'm going to sleep.” she said.
Pocornia closed her eyes, relaxed her face and ears. From time to time she heard the sounds of creaking floorboards which broke the deafening sound of silence around her. The sounds the floorboards made vexed her slightly. She sat up and entered thought for awhile. She thought about the circumstances which had led her to this place, the emotional ramifications of which she would at some point have to face, circumstances which had forced her to relocate to a town she was not familiar with. In addition, having to repair a nearly destroyed log cabin while living in it. All those thoughts bothered her, but she had to forget about them.
Forget so she could go to sleep...
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Thanks for sharing this! It was quite interesting. Might need an edit pass to clean up some inadvertent word substitutions, but there's enough here that's interesting that I'm curious where it's going (e.g. how the title character knows Winona by name when she's apparently a newcomer, why she has decided to stop flipping houses and settle down—and, indeed, how she intends to live when she's abandoning the one thing she identifies as her career...)
Probably best to not post a whole novel at once. It's okay (and in some cases ideal) to finish the novel and then release it serially.
8408691
Hello Skywriter. Thank you for Sharing your thoughts. First,Pocornia does not know Winona. What actually happened was while I was transitioning my sample from paper to Fimfiction. I forgot to include a sentence which described Pocornia looking at Winona's dog collar...It was a mistake on my part and I'm sorry if that confused you.
I hope you are interested in future chapters and would consider providing more insight.
Sincerely, Popcorn Pony.
8410015
It's okay! I just thought it was mysterious but I guess it was an oversight. Best of luck in continuing to produce!
Well, I finally got around to reading this story of yours. I apologise for taking so long to deliver the promised feedback, but with everything that’s been going on, I lacked either the time to read or the will to do so. But enough about that.
I’ve finished reading this chapter, and, to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to read on. Now, I’ll be blunt and brutally honest. This story is not good. It’s not exactly bad either—I’ve seen far worse—but it’s far from something that I’d call an enjoyable and interesting read.
First off, this chapter is riddled with dozens upon dozens of typos, grammar errors, random capitalisation of some words, missing or mixed-up words (most recurring being probably its/it’s), missing or incorrectly used punctuation, many direct speech issues, and some rough or odd wording. I won’t go into more detail about the individual issues here, but if you wish, I can elaborate on them in a separate comment or PM. Despite all this, the story is still readable, but it’s not exactly a pleasant read, and it’s obvious that this story wasn’t edited properly. That’s a major turn-off for a lot of people, which might explain why this story’s got so little attention over the years, especially given the glaring its/it’s issue present in the very first paragraph. (On a side note, it’s also a bit weird to refer to the pony as ‘it’ at first. Going with ‘she‘ or ‘they’ would be better.) Still, I don’t think faulty grammar and spelling is the chapter’s biggest downfall.
What I see as the most serious issue of this chapter is its style and the way you handle the atmosphere, pacing, and tension. I know that this chapter is old, and it’s possible that what I’m going to list below was remedied in the later chapters, but in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. If the opening’s faulty, nobody’s going to stick around to see the rest, no matter how great it might be. I like to liken a story to a house; you might be able to build a grand mansion, but if there’s something wrong with its foundation, it’s going to fall apart no matter what. Now, what’s truly wrong with this chapter is that it just comes over as bland and uninteresting. All of it, except for the few paragraphs of Pocornia’s nightmare, sounds like this: A character went down a road. Then the character reached a crossroads and went down another road. The character walked up to a house. It looked like that and that and also that. The character went inside. Another character approached her. That made the character happy.
Can you see how it just drones on, without evoking any kind of emotion or interest in the reader? That’s something that should never happen. Try to play with sentence length and structure a little to alter the pace with which the story moves forward, let your character react to what is going on around her in greater detail, and try to show how she feels (through her body language and behaviour) instead of plainly stating it. All this will help make the story feel alive and, if executed well, get the readers invested in the plot. Furthermore, watch out for dialogues that comes over as stiff, robotic and just all around unnatural. This can be fixed by some rephasing and restructuring, as well as the addition of some non-verbal action. You already have some here and there, but a bit more is needed to really make it work.
This brings me to the last major issue that I noticed. While the story seems to have some direction and manages to set up a possible future conflict—Pocornia’s nighmares and the possibility of her losing the cabin in the auction, I presume—it does all of this in a very slice-of-life-y manner. That‘s not really a problem per se, I can see that actually making for a rather good story. However, a cursory glance at the story’s front page reveals the Horror, Thriller, and Mystery tags, while Slice of Life is nowhere to be seen. The Mystery tag might come into play later, that’s really hard to judge at the moment, but this story’s definitely neither a horror, nor a thriller. Both of these genres are built upon extensive work with the story’s pacing, which in turn affects the tension and suspense the readers feel. The only attempt at gradually rising tension that I noticed in this chapter was Pocornia looking for her “kitty” (a nice twist, by the way), and that’s definitely not enough to justify this being tagged as thriller. The issue with this tags is also the fact that they are promising something that should be present thorough the whole story—constantly high tension with just the occasional calmer moment serving as a breather. In other words, the horror/thriller genre should be apparent almost from the get-go. A good story, regardless of its genre, hooks the audience’s attention and indicates what it is going to be like in the first few sentences or paragraphs (ideally). If it fails to do so, it’s either going to annoy the readers who expected the genre they’ve been promised, or it’s going to turn people away after rapidly shifting tone some time later.
And that’s all I’ve got to say at the moment, feel free to inquire further if you have some additional questions or if you want me to elaborate a bit more on anything that was unclear. I hope that this mini-review of sorts will help you become a better writer and turn this into a great fic. It definitely has the potential to become one.
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First, thanks for reading and for giving me your honest opinion of my writing skills. They were very weak at the time of writing this chapter and I have made plans to edit the entire novel when it's finished. With that said, I think I show a little more "writing competence" in later chapters versus what is shown in this chapter. Still...I have known for quite awhile that I am a flawed writer and I look for ways to improve my writing skills whenever I can.
Secondly, I want to elaborate on the choice of tags. The horror, mystery and thriller elements become much more noticeable later on in the story. I spent a lot of time setting things up in the first and second chapter and then I let the flood gates open in chapter 3. I always suggest that readers give the story up to chapter 3 before they decide to either stick with it or give up on it. Naturally, I would like to suggest the same to you provided you would be willing to give Popcorn a chance to redeem itself. I don't want you to feel like I am asking you to do a chore because my intent with this novel has always been to entertain people, but I also don't want you to close the door on it too quickly.
Finally, there is so much to unpack in your comment that it will take my some time to fully grasp everything you pointed out to me. I just had a tooth extracted a few days ago and am on pain meds so my ability to comprehend things right now is impaired, but I will sit down with a notepad and draw more conclusions on your advice. If you don't mind, I would like to message you privately to pick your brain a little bit. However, I can't do this until later as I just took a pain med prior to checking Popcorn.
10421218
You're welcome, I'm glad I could help a little bit. I'm also sorry to hear about your tooth extraction and the meds messing with your brain--take as long as you need. I'll keep it short here and talk to you more in a PM, but allow me just a few words about the tags and such:
Whenever I read through a story with the intent of reviewing it, I always try to mimic how a very patient reader would behave. I won't sugarcoat it, I had to force myself to read through the last two thirds of this chapter. In other words, I don't think that subjecting the audience to reading through another two chapters the length of this one before the story really picks up is a sensible thing. To elaborate a bit on what I have said in my previous comment, the immediate story set-up should happen within the first few paragraphs, with the rest of the essential information coming up in the next thousand words or so tops. A set-up the length of about fifteen thousand words (a quarter of the story's current length!) is not going to cut it--plus, as I stated before, it has the unfortunate side effect of you setting up a slice of life story, rather than preparing the readers for something scary yet to come. We can also discuss story mechanics once you're feeling a bit better, if you want.
Lastly, I didn't mention it before, but I also read through chapter 13 to give the newer chapters a chance. The sentence structure and general flow of the story have gotten a bit better, though sadly it sounds just as flat and monotone as this chapter. Which is a pity, given that, judging by that chapter's content, it was supposed to be something that'd make my hair stand on end.
I love Pocornia. She seems like a really nice mare to hang out with. Good to hear she found a friend in Fluttershy. I’m always happy to read about my favorite pony.
I don’t like spiders…
10904950
I am so glad to hear that someone has picked up this story from the beginning! I am currently working on the last chapter, thank you so much for your comment and interest. Pocornia is defintely a interesting character put into a very complicated situation.