> A Strange Happening > by TheReddPony > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Preface (Updated) > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Preface: August 2014 I’ve spent quite a bit of time on this Fanfiction, and been through all sorts of odd happenings to get it where it is today. At one point, the jump drive I had the story stored on died. The link between plug-in and the card was severed somehow, and I just recently found a strategically hidden PDF, and I had already rewritten everything. Not like I hadn't done that before, but it was still a pain. I started working on this story in March of 2012. As of right now, that’s over two years ago. I had been walking home from school, and had recently read a Slendermane Fanfiction on Equestria Daily (Still my favorite Fanfiction, and will probably always be.) and I was tossing around variations of dialogue in my head. I eventually decided on a rough short story, and when I got home I typed out about four hundred words. I cross applied my Slenderman knowledge that I had gained from my rather odd… obsession I’d had with the whole thing, and out came the very first draft of my first chapter. It wasn't much, but at the time I thought I’d written quite a bit. I obsessed. I took my idea and researched Slenderman and My Little Pony more than I ever had before. About two weeks before school got out, I set it aside, and didn't pick it back up until the last third of summer vacation. When I saw the story I had so far, I rewrote it. And added quite a bit of story. I still didn't meet the one thousand word requirement for publishing, so I crammed a short preface on the beginning of the story. I resubmitted it four times before it got accepted, and I had a lot of editing help to get it there. When it was published, the one thousand word count requirement was met exactly. I set the story aside yet again until school started. Once school started back up, I re-read what I had written, and was appalled. I deleted it, and rewrote it from scratch. I continued to rewrite it again and again, occasionally adding more to the story. About that time, I read World War Z, a book that inspired me to try something different. I added the interview aspect of my story, and quickly had an idea unfurl in my head. I knew I had to be careful with this, if it felt like a script, the site was sure to have my story taken down. So I began my tedious work. The story I had submitted originally, frankly, sucked. It could be called a summary at best. I had my work cut out for me. I stripped it down, and rewrote it from the ground up. About two months into the school year, I took another break. I didn't pick my writing back up until March of 2014. In late May, after almost three months of hard work, my jump drive died. As I said earlier, it was a hardware problem. My story, I thought, had died with it. Luckily, one of my more recent drafts had been printed. I blocked out my plot, so I would have something to write around, and I began to finalize chapter one. The rewriting I do has become so routine, that it took no time at all. I added details I’d never even thought of before. I started to notice flaws and gaps, plot holes and incongruities. I fixed them. This is bound to be an interesting ride. I have a final destination in mind, and a very rough path to get there. Frankly, though, I have no idea where we’re going. I haven’t the first clue how many words or chapters this journey will take. I will get my rating changed (the gore in my writing has improved.) My hope in this is one thing: that I will write it until the end, and someone out there will enjoy it. Thank you, reader, for setting aside time to read my work, and try to enjoy it! -Crimson Sky > Chapter I : Storm Warnings [Final 2014] > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter I: Storm Warnings The following is an excerpt from Manuscript E: Begin Form: Medium: Written Interview Transcript. Vocal, Face to Face. Location: Canterlot Institution for the Betterment of Mental Health Date: Exact date withheld, within two years of the Ponyville incident. Obtained by: Alias “Dainty Quill” Main Source of Collected Information: Alias “Redd”, former Ponyville resident and current suspect in the Ponyville investigation. Further Introductory Information: Redd is a stallion who formerly resided in Ponyville, and is thought to be connected to the peculiar happenings in the Ponyville occurrence. I, Dainty Quill, am conducting and recording an interview with this stallion in order to procure information currently not known surrounding the events that occurred two years ago, in the form of a first-hoof account of the events leading up to, during, and after the incident. I currently sit in a padded room with the mentioned subject. There is a table, and he sits directly across from me. Redd is a Pegasus who, true to his alias, completely red, aside from his cobalt eyes. His mane is a darker crimson than the bright red of his coat, and he has faint crimson highlights throughout his coat and wings. His talent is marked by a blank, unrolled parchment scroll with a black feather quill. What follows in the rest of this text is a transcript of a mostly unedited interview with this rather unfortunate stallion. I have gone through and placed some comments, but for the most part, the text is untouched. I hope that the information I glean from this interview will show to be beneficial to somepony in some way.         I begin with my first question. “So, Redd, is it?”         He nods. “That is the name I prefer, yes.”         I follow with my next question. “Do you know why I’m here?”         He nods again. “You’re here to hear my story.” I give him a smile. “Yes, that’s precisely the point. Where would you like to begin?”         He gives a sigh. “Well, I think it all started on a Wednesday. I’ve always hated Wednesdays. It was one of those days where I just didn’t want to get out of bed. In other words; a normal day. I woke up late, as usual, and stared at the ceiling. I finally got out of my bed, and slopped through my morning routine, as usual. Made some toast, showered, preened, brushed my teeth, and trotted out the door, toast firmly gripped between my teeth. I stopped short of flying to work, though. The weather was odd. When I woke up, I had thought it was a little muggy. When I stepped outside, though, I was hit by hot, humid air. Air that would make flying to work miserable. Air that had made the normally busy streets of the town mostly vacant. You see, I live… sorry, lived in my little two story right on the edge of Ponyville. I always walked down the main street to work, so I always walked through all the booths and shops. On that particular Wednesday, I walked to work, and there was little to no outside activity.         Normally I wouldn’t note the weather, but I still find the humidity and heat on that particular Wednesday interesting. The pegasi hadn’t alerted the newspaper team that there would be such miserable temperatures and what not. It was as if the weather itself was being persnickety. Anyways, when I got to The Golden Press, that’s the newspaper I worked for, I attempted to sneak around the secretary’s desk, so as not to be seen. Quillfeathers, our secretary, called me out. “Redd, you’re late.”         I gave a sigh, and made my way over to the front of the desk. “Yeah, I know.” Quillfeathers is a unicorn, has a charcoal coat, and a light gray mane. Her special talent was accounting, and she had an abacus for a cutie mark. I’ve never seen her use one though. She does it all in her head. I swear, she’s been the secretary there since the building was built. And it was probably a job she came out of retirement for. She was old.         Quillfeathers shook her head, and scribbled down a note. “Go ahead. Just don’t try to sneak in.”         I nodded in appreciation. “Thanks, Quill.”         She smiled. “Don’t mention it. I still have to tell Golden Dawn.”         Golden Dawn was my boss. She was an earth pony with a golden yellow coat and a very light mane. She was somewhat of a slave driver toward most, but she was always somewhat understanding towards me. Her talent was management, and it was represented by a lit torch. I gave another sigh. “I know.” I began to walk away, and she called me back over to the desk.         “Don’t forget your letters, Redd.” She got up out of her chair and pulled a stack of papers out of a cubby behind her desk. “Here are your questions for today. Have fun answering them all.” She pushed the stack of papers across the desk, and I gave another nod of appreciation. She looked back to her work.         I picked the stack of papers up in my mouth, and walked back to my own desk, placing the stack haphazardly next to my typewriter. I don’t think I mentioned yet what my job was at The Golden Press. I wrote an advice column. It was simple. Ponies sent me questions, and I answered them. The stack of papers I had been given by Quillfeathers were the questions I had been sent today alone. Ponies get into this, and I never really have understood it. If there’s somepony willing to answer questions, give them solutions to their problems, etcetera, they would rather have the answer given to them then figure it out themselves. I sorted through the pile, and separated out the ones I would need to get outside opinions to answer. Again, as usual. Anyways, there were many questions. The usual ones, like relationship problems, parenting dilemmas, friendship dichotomies, help fixing something around the house, needed cooking advice, the usual. Then there were the strange questions and queries, as well as occasional fan mail. These each had their own pile. I would usually go to somepony who knew something about the off questions, and sometimes the questions would get rather off-color. Those needed a letter written back, as opposed to an answer in the newspaper. One of the different questions was received on that Wednesday, and it read as follows:         Dear Redd,         Recently, weird things have been happening around my house. Books fall off the shelves on their own, I’ll turn around and things will disappear from where I place them, only to show up somewhere else. I wake up in the middle of the night with chills, and lately I’ve even had problems getting to sleep. I dream of horrid things. Sometimes I see flames and sometimes I see ponies I love dying. Sometimes I have these tremors. No, they aren’t like tremors, they’re worse than tremors. They’re these terrors. And it's like, it feels like as if somepony’s gripping my throat and squeezing. I don’t know if that means anything. I feel like somepony is watching me, always just out of my peripheral. I have a Unicorn roommate, and at first I thought it was a prank she was playing on me, but it’s been going on for about a month now. What should I do?         -Sincerely, Losing sleep.         I set this question aside. It was, as I said, different. Not like usual. It was a question I had to go to somepony else to get help answering. I had to look for advice. There seemed to be something supernatural involved, and that’s not my field of expertise. I went through the usual-type question stack, and answered each of the letters in turn.         Once I was done drafting all my responses, it was around three pm. I placed the different questions in my saddlebag, and took the answers to the rest of the questions, as well as the questions, to Quillfeathers. I clocked out and headed outside. When I got outside, the weather and the liveliness of the streets were both back to normal. I decided I would head over to the library, and talk to Twilight Sparkle, the current librarian. Twilight Sparkle was an amazing unicorn whose special talent was magic itself. She had a lavender coat, and a straight midnight blue mane with a highlight of pink and purple. And her eyes. Her eyes were the most brilliant purple. She was simply fantastic. If I had a question, she usually had an answer and always had a book that could help. Plus, I enjoyed talking to her. I’m getting off topic. Sorry. Anyways, Twilight had moved to Ponyville almost two years prior, and had replaced the former librarian, Cheralee, who in turn went to work at the school. I don’t remember who taught at the school before that. Whatever. Like I said, I made my way to Golden Oaks Library, occasionally bumping into somepony I knew and making small talk. When I got to the library, I noticed the windows were covered from the inside. The normally bright library looked rather dim.  I grinned, shaking my head, and spoke to nopony in particular. “Twilight, Twilight. Always up to something, aren’t you.” I knocked on the door, and waited. Nothing happened, so I knocked again. I heard muffled movement from the other side of the door, followed by Twilight’s voice. “I’m coming, I’m coming, give me a second!” The sound of numerous locks being unlocked followed, and the door opened. Standing in front of me was my favorite librarian, Twilight Sparkle. She gave me a smile. “Hi there, Redd! Come right in!” she stepped aside, and I walked into the library. “Thanks.” I said, looking around the room. Bookshelves had been moved in front of the windows, which explained how they had been covered. There was a bookshelf over the entrance to the kitchen, as well as a violet light-shield at the bottom of the stairs, going from the floor to the ceiling. In the middle of the room, there were two couches and a table, on one of the couches lay Fluttershy, our town’s animal specialist. Quick aside about Fluttershy: Fluttershy was a mare with a light yellow coat, a light-pink flowy mane. Her talent, as I might have mentioned, was animals, and it was symbolized by three butterflies. Fluttershy was generally a shy Pegasus, unless you got to know her. Even then she was always soft-spoken and rather withdraw.  She was the mare you went to if you had an animal problem of any sort, just like one would go to Twilight for a magic problem. Well… that is, if they happened to be a unicorn. Anyways, the mare lived out by the Everfree forest, in an isolated cabin. She always had animals at her cabin, like I said; animals were this mare’s thing. Anyways, sorry about the tangent, I happen to do that a lot. On the other couch was Spike, Twilight’s number one assistant. He was a small purple baby dragon, and had a green ridge of scales along his back and across the top of his head that almost accented his otherwise purple coloration. On the table was a list of some sort, printed on a parchment scroll, which as soon as I looked directly at, rolled up on itself. I turned to the unicorn and gave her a quizzical look. “Being a bit paranoid, are we?” She shook her head, and the door closed, latching itself as she talked. “Not at all, I feel the magnitude of the problem matches that of my solution.” The doors numerous locks finished locking themselves, and a tall bookshelf slid itself in front of the tightly locked door. I slowly shook my head. “That’s definitely overkill.” Twilight vehemently shook hers. “I disagree. I’m working on a project that I wish to hide from a rather receptive somepony.” “Ok, Twilight.” I smiled again, and turned towards the center of the room. “Hi Spike. Hi Fluttershy.” I nodded to each in turn. Spike nodded back. “Hi Redd.” Fluttershy muttered something into the couch, and seemed to intentionally avoid eye contact. I walked over to the couch Spike was sitting in, and sat on the floor next to it. “What were you guys doing before I so rudely interrupted?” I asked. Twilight walked up beside me, and the scroll picked itself off the table and shoved itself between two books on a bookshelf across the room. “I might tell you in a minute. I figured we could focus on why you’re here, first.” I gave a sigh. “Well, as usual, a question was sent in that I had no clue how to answer. I figured you could help me either answer it, or find a book that would help me answer it.” Twilight nodded her head. “Can I read the letter?” I drug my bag off my back, and pulled out the letter in question, the one from Losing Sleep, and hoofed it over to Twilight. The letter opened itself and hovered in front of her face. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the letter, and once she got to the bottom of the page, they shifted back to the top, and she read it again, this time at a slower pace. The letter set itself on the table, and Twilight listed off four serial numbers for Spike, who got up and walked around the room, looking for the subsequent books. “In answer to your question, Redd.” Twilight said “I have a few books you can look at. As usual, though, I’m not going to do your work for you.” I gave a sigh. “Ok. Help is help, after all.” She nodded. “That it is.” Fluttershy spoke up. And by spoke, I mean she muttered something that Twilight picked up and I didn’t. Twilight gave a nod, and the scroll from a few minutes ago appeared back on the table. “Fluttershy’s right.” Twilight acknowledged. “We can definitely use you to our advantage.” I gave a groan. “I don’t really like the sound of that.” “Hey,” the unicorn smirked “favor for favor, It’s how Equius works.” She was right, and I knew it. “Ok, what do I have to do?” I said. I knew when I was beat, and around this unicorn, that was always. Spike interrupted. “Here are the books, Twilight.” He set a pile of books between me and the unicorn, who in turn, gave a rather exasperated sigh. “What?” Spike asked. She shook her head. “Nothing. This will just have to wait a minute. Redd, see if any of these will help you.” Spike threw his arms in the air. “I swear, it’s always something with you! I’m going to go see Rarity, maybe she needs some help.” He walked towards the door, and Twilight rolled her eyes. “Ok, Spike. Don’t get into too much trouble.” The bookcase moved, and the door unlatched, unlocked, unbolted, and opened itself. Spike walked out the doorway. Fluttershy got up off the couch. “I, um… Have to go f... feed Angel.” She ran out the door behind Spike, and took off into the air. The door closed and did the entire process in reverse. Lock, latch, bolt, bookcase. The unicorn turned her attention back on me. I stared back. “Hi…” I said, attempting to break the silence. She rolled her eyes. “I’ll just check the four books out to you, you can look through them when you get back to your house. I’d like to discuss other matters with you.” “Ok. That works, I guess.” I stuck four hardcover books in my saddlebag, two on each side, and took the saddle bag off, pushing it behind the couch. “What was on the scroll?” I asked. A mischievous grin lit up Twilight’s face. “That doesn’t really matter, what matters is what I’m going to ask you to do.” “And that would be?” “Can you keep a secret?” I shot her a flat look. “Yes, Twilight, I can keep secrets.” Her demeanor changed, and a serious look replaced the mischievous one. “Last year, we, being my five friends and I, attempted to throw a small party for a certain… pink pony,” her eyes shifted slightly to one of the bookshelves, “a surprise party. It sort of… flopped. Sure, it was a good party, but beforehand, the mentioned mare was more than miserable.” She paused to nervously glance around the room again. It had occurred quickly to me who was talking about. Pinkie Pie, the energetic party pony, who was known by everypony in Ponyville. You couldn’t keep a secret from her, not really. One could try, but it never worked. She always kind of… bothered me, to be perfectly honest. Too happy. I still found it weird that Twilight seemed to avoid mentioning the mare directly. “But this year,” she continued “we decided that we were going to do this differently, we’d invite everypony, and go to great lengths to keep her from finding out.” She looked back at me. “But we needed somepony," she tilted her head, looking at me with more calculating eyes, and continued in a scheming tone, "to give out the invitations, and we had no idea who could do so. We couldn’t do it through the mail, because Derpy is rather close to… her. It can’t be any of her closest friends, because she would immediately catch on.” The room fell silent and Twilight's smile slowly widened, her eyes lighting up and the mischievous look yet again taking hold on her face. “So you want me to lie to the all-knowing party-animal and pass out invitations?” She nodded. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it!” I looked at the scroll on the table. “Can’t you just use your magic or something?” She gave me one of those ‘Shut up, just do it” looks, and I gave another heavy sigh. “Ok, fine, I’ll do it.” I conceded. I don’t like hoof work like this, lots of walking and what not. I knew I’d hate it. “Thank you, Redd!” She threw her front legs around me in a kind-of bear hug. “Anything for a friend” I said, and hugged her back. And that’s how I got stuck smuggling out the invitations to Pinkie’s surprise birthday party. In my opinion, this was the beginning of the end.” Redd shifts in his chair and sighs. “Why exactly do you say that?” I ask. “I’ll get there, it’s a literary device called ominous foreshadowing. Anyways, I went around town pushing invitations, all the while keeping an eye out for Pinkie Pie. I didn’t run into her once, thank the princesses. Twilight had given me a different saddlebag, and I was carrying the invitations in that. I’d just left mine by the couch. This took hours. By the time dusk came around, I only had one pony left, minus the few who either weren’t home or I just couldn’t get ahold of. The last house was Zecora’s. Zecora was a zebra from another land. She always talked in rhyme and lived a decent ways inside the Everfree. For some reason, unlike most, I’ve never had a problem with going in the Everfree forest. At least, not during the day. This was a little different, the sun was in the process of dipping below the horizon. I ventured into the Everfree cautiously, closely studying the map Twilight had given me. It would have been helpful, minus the fact that my sense of direction sucks, therefore maps have never been useful to me. And so, as my luck would have it, I eventually found myself hopelessly lost in the bowels of the Everfree Forest. Not knowing what to do, I continued forward, hoping to find a hint as to where I might be. But each tree looked the same, and they were much too dense to fly through, seeing as how bad of a flyer I am, so I looked through the bag Twilight had sent me with to see if I happened to have anything that could help me find my way. I had a few of the invitations left, a decent sized knife, an almost empty book of matches, save for 3, a small candle, and a flashlight. The only thing that was of any use to me at the time would be the newfangled flashlight, seeing as it was getting rather dark out, and the candle would just blow out in the slight breeze that seemed to consistently blow through the trees. And so, I placed the flashlight on the ground in front of me and latched the bag shut, then pulled it back onto my back, making sure it was firmly settled. I then picked the flashlight up in my mouth and clicked it on. I still wonder how the thing works, but when I asked Twilight about it, she began talking about high grade polymers and simple capacitors with enchanted energy release. I kind of understood it, until she started talking about the magical properties and future implications such devices might have. Anyways, when I turned the flashlight on, the shadows of the trees and underbrush around me immediately seemed to distort and bend, as if following my path and reaching for me. I clicked the flashlight back off. I decided, against my better judgment, that not being able to see was better. I went to put the flashlight back in the saddle bag, and something caught my eye. I could see the moon, through the canopy. I finished storing the flashlight, and moved towards the moon. It was a clearing, almost 30 hooves across! I was overjoyed! I could get into the air and navigate to the zebra’s hut that way. I jumped through the bushes in front of me and readied to take to the air, when again, something caught my eye. Across the clearing from me was a pony I’d never seen before. And again, I did something against my better judgment: I approached the stranger. The stranger was tall, and had white hooves and piano-black legs. My eyes followed the legs up to its body, which was the same dark shade of black. My eyes went no higher. “Hello?” I asked. There was no response. I figured, though, that even if I didn’t know the stranger, Pinkie Pie almost definitely did, and Twilight wanted me to give everypony besides Pinkie an invitation. So, I with as much gusto as I could muster, said “Hi there, stranger! I'm supposed to give everypony an invitation, so... You’re invited to a surprise party for Pinkie Pie! In case you didn't know, she's the overly energetic pink mare who usually throws all the parties in Ponyville.” I waited for a response, but I didn't get any, and so I just set the invitation on the ground in front of the stranger. “Here you go! Hope to see you there!” I then turned back to the moon, and leapt into the air, pushing the current against my wings. I love flying, I really do. I wish I was better at it. It’s my least favorite part of being trapped in this mental facility. I don’t get to fly. My wings are even bound to my back.” I interrupt Redd. “Anyways, you were flying above the Everfree.” “Yes, I was. I flew above the canopy and into Princess Luna’s beautiful night sky. The stars and moon that night were breathtaking! I never get enough of it. It’s a sight I absolutely love. It’s like swimming in a sea of white fireflies. It’s simply beautiful. She must have had such fun making such a beautiful masterpiece, the sky was a canvas, and she had painted the most beautiful image for her little ponies to enjoy. If I were her, I would take such pride in my creation, I would tell all to look at its splendor. Moving on, I eventually found Zecora’s hut, after taking in the splendor of the night. I touched down and headed towards the alcove in the trees where the zebra’s hut was located. What I saw, though, struck me as off. I could tell from the sky that something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was until I had landed and gotten closer. It hit me very quickly. There was no fire in the zebra's hut, and the door was slightly ajar, sitting crooked on its makeshift hinges. My curiosity piqued, and I ran to the door. For the third time that night, I did something against my better judgment.  I reached up a hoof and began to slowly push the door open. A crack echoed through the clearing, piercing the silence, and I froze, quickly turning around to throw frenzied glances of paranoia around the clearing. The clearing was too dark for my comfort, and I again removed the flashlight from my saddlebag, and shined it around the surrounding area. “Hello?” I called out, but the flashlight in my mouth muffled my speech. I spit it out, and it flickered as it hit the ground. “Anypony there?” a response was not given, and if one was, I did not hear it. So I picked the flashlight back up off the ground, and pushed the door the rest of the way open. The creaking made me wince, but I forced myself to poke my head in the hut. The flashlight flickered and died before I could get a good look at the interior, but I could already tell something was wrong. I sighed, and shook the flashlight, clicking it again and again. It didn’t do a thing, didn’t respond to my frantic efforts to make it work. “The impact from dropping it must have broken it or something.” I spoke out loud, attempting to fill the deafening silence. I again took my bag off my back and placed the apparently dysfunctional flashlight inside. And there I sat, wondering what I should do next. Then it dawned on me. Twilight had thought this through, not to this circumstance, but she had thought farther ahead than I. I’m so glad she was the one sending me out on crazy outings. It could have been somepony with less forethought and paranoia, and could be somepony other than my favorite librarian. She gave me a backup for the new and somewhat unreliable technology that she had lent me. A candle. I pulled out the candle and matches, and set said candle on the ground in front of me. I grasped a match between my teeth and held the paper of the book over it, clasped tightly with the forefeathers of my left wing, and pulled the matchbook across the head of the match. The match flared up, and I got a dimly lit view of the one room house in front of me. I gasped. “Sweet Celestia…” The match fell out of my mouth and hit the ground, extinguishing itself. I sat there for a minute, contemplating what I thought I had just seen. Once I was sure I was wrong, I again grasped a match and the match book. This time, when I ignited the match, I made sure to look only at the candle, and I lowered the match to the wick without glancing around the room. Once the candle was lit, I looked around the room, giving myself time to take everything in. And my, did I have a lot to take in. The scene that had lit up in front of me was a sight to behold indeed. The floor had been cleared, and it looked like all the major furniture, as well as an overturned cauldron, had been piled up in the furthest corner of the room. The lack of possessions was not what disturbed me, though. No, the reason I note that there was so little in the cleared space is what was on every visible surface. All the cleared surfaces, the walls, the floor, etcetera, had been covered in cryptic gibberish, most of which was frighteningly illegible, and some of it even looked like cryptology or writings from a foreign tongue, which quite honestly, I wouldn’t have doubted for a second. What I could read said seemingly meaningless things like “No eyes, always watches” and “leave me alone.” Scattered amongst these undecipherable writings, there were such strange depictions of faceless and distorted ponies sporting long slender legs and what appeared to be formal attire. It made no sense, not at the time. My mind was racing, and the candle light dancing across the walls didn’t help. I’m sure it made an eerie situation turn to the terrifying one that I remember. And what puzzled me the most was the recurring symbol that was almost made to look alive by the flickering candlelight. Like I said, that candle was playing tricks with my mind. The symbol appeared to be a frantically crossed out circle. I guess if I were to describe it in a more technical language, the symbol was a circle that had an x placed through its center, so that the x, which was slightly larger than the circle, intersected the circle’s outer edge at four relatively equidistant points. That sounds wrong. I think equidistant is the wrong word.” Redd pauses. “Well,” I say “I’ve never been the best with Geometry, so I can’t help you there. I think I get the gist of what you’re describing, though.” He gives a heavy sigh. “Well, I guess I’ll continue. Sorry if I bore you with my overly ornate language.” I chuckle. “I’ve heard worse. And, yes, continuing would be productive.” Redd smiles. “You’re right, I suppose, though how productive listening to my reminiscent banter and what not will ever be could be debated. To be clear and summative, Zecora’s hut was a frightening mess. It sent shivers up and down my spine. I blame the candle. I quickly deduced two things. One, the zebra was out of the house, and two, the zebra had gone insane. And, as I do when I usually have a problem, I decided to go to the library. Plus, I needed to return Twilight’s stuff, and get my own bag back. So Golden Oaks Library was my next destination.” Thus ends this excerpt from Manuscript E. > Chapter II: In A Town Called Blackrock > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter II: In a Town Called Blackrock “Much can be said about Blackrock. ‘Tis quaint, peaceful, and most importantly, the small town provides us with near all our steel. If such a town disappeared, where would we be?” -A.L. Train, Industrializing Equestria Blackrock, a small town sandwiched between the sculpted, rocky cliffs of the Northridge mountains and a wild, untamable Everfree forest. Blackrock was a mining town, founded in Equestria’s great industrial age to mine the Iron ore deep inside the Northridge range. The ore mined at Blackrock was the source of much of the countries refined steel, much of which was sent out to be processed at numerable locations, one being Canterlot, the nation’s shining capital. Canterlot rested on the other side of the Great Forest, as the ponies on Blackrock called it, and to reach Canterlot, one had to go around the forest. The town had a peculiarity about it, though. It was entirely founded, run, and populated by earth ponies, the race closest to the earth. Blackrock was filled with hard working ponies, one of which was Obsidian Streaks, a stallion with a charcoal grey coat, blue eyes, and  a mane black enough to match his namesake. He had a talent for mining, a common thing in the town, and had a pickaxe on his flank to prove it.         Obsidian Streaks was, as his talent suggested, a miner. He was the assistant manager of operations in the south tunnels, and had a decent life. He worked day-to-day, and after work, he’d go off to the bar with his buddies, then he’d go home. And the next day, he would do it all again. He wasn’t happy with where he was, but satisfied definitely summarized his feelings.         On this day, however, Obsidian had different plans. He had a date planned with the town’s main blacksmith, Silver Flame. She was a gorgeous mare, in his opinion. She had a sky-blue mane, cut short to stay safe around the fires of the forge, her almost silver coat seemed to shimmer under any sort of light, and he always seemed to fixate on her eyes. They were a deep amber that seemed to flicker and burn. He liked her, he was sure of that. And the other day, when he had gotten the strength to ask her out, she said yes.         He had this all planned out, and he ran over it again, losing focus on his work. He gazed down the cavern, and thought about what he would do that evening. He was going to take Silver to the restaurant on the corner of Fourth and Stinerei street. It was a tasteful and classy place, but not too expensive, and not too over the top. Well, he hoped anyways. He shook his head and got back to work, walking further down the tunnel. Thoughts of Silver would have to wait. Work comes ahead of home, after all.         When Obsidian Streaks was done with work, He headed home for a quick shower, and then out to pick up his date.         He made it to her house three minutes after he said he would, and already he felt bad about it. Her house was small, clearly made for a single pony. It was a one story, located directly behind the forge. It was a simple brick house, with light yellow shingles. He stood in front of the door, nervous to knock. It seemed to stare back at him, daring him to reach out and use it’s simple brass knocker. He gulped back his nervousness and knocked, then stepped back and waited. He was about to knock again, when the door opened inwards, revealing Silver Flame.         Obsidian was at a loss for words. Her light mane had been done up, curled around the edges. It framed her face perfectly. He thought about how well she pulled off the short hair, and how great it looked on her. Then he met her eyes. His thoughts about her hair vanished, and he just peered deep into them. She smiled, and he shook himself out of his fixated trance. “You ready to go?” She asked.         A nervous smile replaced Obsidian’s vacant look. “Y...Yeah.”         She stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “You alright?”         He nodded quickly. “Yeah! I’m just… nervous, that’s all.”         “Am I that scary?”         “No!”         Silver giggled. “Let’s go, Obsidian. We have a reservation, or so you say. We wouldn’t want to be late. The Garden tends to be rather mean about those sorts of things.”         “Yeah. You’re right.” Silver began to walk, and Obsidian followed close behind, his eyes wandering across her hindquarters, admiring the curves, studying the way she swayed when she walked, her tail swishing side to side, following the movements of her hips.         She broke his fixation with a query. “Why don’t you walk next to me? I don’t get to see you if you walk back there.”         He blushed heavily. “I can do that.”         Complying, he sped up and fell in step with Silver. “So, you’ve got a management position in the mines, right?” She asked.         He grinned. “That I do. I’m the assistant manager in the south tunnels.” He puffed his chest out slightly, elated that somepony took interest in his seemingly boring job. “It’s a rather prestigious position.”         “Ah. You seem to be proud of it.” Silver smiled.         Obsidian explained his position with great detail, and before the couple knew it, they were in front of The Garden. “Well,” Silver observed “It seems ponies loose time when they’re talking.”         “That’s what they say.” They stood there, looking at eachother, Obsidian admiring his date, and Silver thinking about how she could fall for such a stallion. Obsidian stood up, and turned towards the door, and offered his right fore-leg to Silver. “Shall we, Silver Flame?”         She wrapped her left foreleg around his right, and nodded. “Lead the way, you fine gentle-stallion.”         They walked into the restaurant together, forelegs linked; a picture of innocent bliss. The waitress at the door noticed them almost instantly, and looked at Obsidian. “Do you two have a reservation?” “Obsidian Streaks.” he nodded. “Ah, Mr. Streaks. Right this way.” She walked off, and the two followed. The two were led to a booth. “The two of you can sit here. I’ll be your Waitress for tonight, if there’s anything you need, please let me know, ok?” Obsidian sat down, and Silver sat across from him. Silver nodded to the waitress in appreciation. “Thank you.” “Can I start the two of you off with any drinks? We’ve got a fine selection of wines you could choose from…”  The waitress droned on about the choice wines they had in stock. Obsidian was distracted by Silver, sitting across from him. He couldn’t help but stare. He was interrupted from his train of thought by a soft kick from underneath the table. “Obsidian, she’s asking what you want to drink!” “Oh! Um… How about you get me whatever Silver chose?” he said to the waitress. She grinned in reply. “Alrighty. I’ll be just a minute.” She walked off, and Obsidian turned back to Silver. He was met by a glare. “What?” he asked. “You were staring at me.”         “S-Sorry…” he blushed.         “It’s fine.” Silver sighed. “It’s not the oddest thing you could be doing. I’m not quite sure whether to be flattered of worried, though.”         He didn’t respond, only looked at the table.         “I’m not mad.”         “Really?” He met her eyes. Such a tender, caring gaze. There was no way she could possibly be angry with him, he thought, not with such tender eyes.         She nodded “Of course not.”         He grinned, and tried to formulate a response.         An ahem sounded from next to the table, both Obsidian and Silver turned to meet the voice. It was the waitress, with two champagne glasses and a bottle of wine. “I know this is supposed to be a somewhat romantic restaurant, but still. I could feel the tension between the two of you from the bar. You should tone it down a bit.” She uncorked the bottle, and poured deep red wine into each of the glasses, then set the bottle on the table. “Who am I kidding, I’m just jealous.” She said, in response to the blushing faces she received. “Do you two know what you’re going to get to eat?”         Obsidian shook his head slowly, and Silver glanced over to him, responding in turn by shaking her own head.         “Oh well,” the waitress sighed “I’ll give you two a couple more minutes.” She walked off yet again to attend to some other table. “We should probably decide what we’re going to order.” Silver said, looking at the menu that had been leaning against the wall, where the table met the cream-colored paint.         Obsidian nodded quietly in agreement, and grabbed the other menu.         “What’re you going to get?”         “I-I’m not… sure.” He stammered.         Silver giggled. “I think I’ll get a salad. This one looks good, with the anaheim peppers and a ceasar crouton medley.”         Obsidian nodded. “It does.”         “I think That’s what I’m getting.” she asserted.         Obsidian smiled nervously. “Ok. Maybe I’ll get the same thing.”         “Maybe?”She raised an eyebrow, and set the menu on the edge of the table for the waitress to pick up when she came to get the orders.         Obsidian nodded. “I’ll get the same sallad.” He placed his menu on top of hers, and grasped his wine glass.         Silver grinned. “How about some competition, Obsidian?”         He perked up. “What do you have in mind?”         “Well,” she grinned “I think we should have a drinking contest.         He was taken aback. “Here?”         She nodded adamantly.         “Ok, why not.” He raised his glass.         Silver raised her own to meet his. “Here’s to praying the hangovers of tomorrow don’t kill us.”         “Agreed.”                   -----  As time passes with a couple such as Obsidian Streak and Silver Flame, the magnitude of the relationship grows, blossoming into something even more beautiful. As such, in six months time, the two were engaged, a relationship set by fate. The happy couple saved plans for a child until after their marriage, and a marriage it was! The wedding was spectacular, a wedding to rival many others. The night after their wedding, they shared champagne and a bed. The went on a honeymoon to Las Pegasus, and were back in about one months time. When the newlyweds got back to Blackrock, There was a surprise waiting for Obsidian: a promotion. The assistant manager was now to be the manager of the south tunnels. This meant two things, a higher income, and less time at home. The first was a plus, that was for sure, but as a newly-wed, less time at home was a negative, no matter how you cut it. Over time, however, He grew into his new position of authority. After a while, The couple discovered that Silver was pregnant. The smithery had to be shut down yet again, as Silver Flame had to stay home. Obsidian worked out a deal with the head manager at the mine so that he could have a time cut as well, and he spent more time around the house. When the day came, it was about three AM. Obsidian had to rush to get hospital personnel to the house, because his wife couldn’t move. She delivered a mare, right there in the bedroom. Obsidian Sky was so proud, when he saw their foal. A daughter. He smiled bigger than he ever had before. They were happy, and they named her Diamond Glimmer. The first two years of Diamond’s foal-hood passed rapidly. She grew to have a sky blue coat, and a flowing, midnight blue mane. She was her mother’s prodigy, too. The cut her mane and tail short, like her mom, and liked to follow her to work. Silver was elated that she’d have somepony to teach. Diamond picked up smithery faster then she learned how to speak. By the time the mare was three, she’d learned to talk, but she could pound out a shovel in less than a minute. At three and a half, Diamond glimmer earned her Cutie mark. It goes without saying that she got the same mark as her mother, an anvil and a hammer. Her parents considered this a blessing, because not two weeks later, it was discovered that, yet again, Silver Flame was pregnant. She had to leave shop, and this time, she had somewhat capable hooves to leave it in. > Chapter III: The Calm Before > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter III: The Calm Before The following is a further excerpt from MANUSCRIPT E: “When I arrived at the library, there was no light coming from inside. I guess that was to be expected, considering the late hour at which I'd landed in front of the hollowed tree. I scurried to the door and paused, so as to catch my breath. Once I was thoroughly calm, and had assured myself such, I raised my hoof and rapped it against the door. There was no answer, and rightfully so. Why would there be? It was very late at night, or unnaturally early in the morning. I was unsure at this point. But, I knocked again. There was the sound of stirring inside. I knocked one more time, and waited for a good thirty seconds or so. There was no answer. I turned away from the door, and towards the sky. I admired the night sky. It was truly beautiful. I threw the saddlebag to the side, lay on my back, and looked up at the moon. The scene was quiet, sereine. The purple sky littered with thousands of glittering stars shone above me, framing the moon with a beautifully artistic design. The sound of a door opening echoed throughout the empty streets, but I paid it no mind. Still I marveled at the stars, the sky, the beauty of the night. It’s an incredibly calming thing, looking up at the stars. The cloak of the cosmos. My mind wandered, and I didn't hear the door shut, nor the sound of approaching hooves. But I did notice when a certain unicorn’s head interrupted my field of vision, blocking the sky. “Redd? Why are you out here so late? Did you need something?” she asked, speaking softly in an attempt not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the empty streets. “Well, I finished the invitations;” I responded, playfully. Twilight sighed, and sat down next to me. “That’s not why you're here at 2:47 in the morning.” I sighed. “You know me too well, Twi. It’s not.” I heard her shuffle around, and her voice came from closer to my head. I assumed she had laid on her back next to me, looking up at the stars as well. “Then why did you visit the library at such a late hour?” I sat in silence for a while, attempting to collect my thoughts, and gazing at the stars. I didn't really know how to talk to her about it: Zecora’s hut, the zebra’s absence, of the stranger in the woods. It was all so… difficult. “Well,” I began, figuring I had to start somewhere. “I went to Zecora’s place last. I wanted to talk to you about something I saw there. I thought maybe you'd have an opinion as to what it all meant.” She sighed. “Oh. That’s it?” If I didn't know any better, I'd say she sounded disappointed. But what would she be disappointed about? I dismissed it. “Zecora’s missing, and her hut is a disaster. There’s cryptic writing everywhere. On the walls, the floor, the ceiling.” “Mm.” “I just, I don't know, I thought maybe you'd know what to make of it.” “I guess I could think about it. It’s pretty late at night to be thinking though, Redd.” I turned my head towards the unicorn, and met her eyes, instead of seeing her looking at the sky, as I expected. “You don't care right now, do you.” She gave another sigh. “I have other, more pressing matters on my mind right now.” “Like?” I asked, looking her straight in the eyes. “It’s nothing.” She said, her voice even quieter. She rolled onto her back, facing the sky, and as a result, breaking eye contact. I turned back to the sky as well. “So, what all happened while you were passing out invitations?” She asked. I smiled, knowing she couldn't see my face. “Well, I didn't run into Pinkie.” “That’s a plus.” “Zecora’s absence really bothers me, though.” “I was just over there three days ago, and nothing seemed to be wrong.” I didn’t respond. We sat there for a while, looking at the sky, not talking or anything. Just silent. She eventually spoke again. “Hey Redd?” “Yeah?” I answered. “How would you like to go check the hut out in the morning?” “I was just there, Twilight.” “Maybe you could take me with you?” “Tomorrow’s a Thursday. I have work.” “Oh.” She was back to her disappointed tone. Things were quiet for another little while. “How about I come by after work?” “That would be great!” She said, rather loudly. I giggled. “Knowing you, you already have something planned.” “You know me, planning stuff and all.” She was quiet again, but the playful edge was back in her voice. It still makes me smile to think about. “Yeah.” I sighed. We were quiet again. “The sky sure is pretty tonight.” “Yeah, it is, isn't it.” She hummed, and pointed up at a star. “That’s Polaris. It’s a star navigators used to use to find which way was north. It’s shifted now, though, so it actually points more to the west.” “Do you think ponies get lost because of it?” I asked. “Maybe.” She giggled. “Why would Princess Luna let it move?” “I don't know.”         “If she has the power to provide a sure and true method of navigation, why would she not do so?”         “Our princesses are wise beyond our imagining. If she let it happen, she must have a reason.”         I was silent. Maybe she wasn't as wise after spending a thousand years on the moon? Mentioning such things was insolent, so I kept quiet.         “Redd?” Twilight asked, breaking the silence yet again.         “Yes?” I replied softly.         “I… It’s nothing. I should probably head back inside.”         I gave a sigh, and rolled onto my stomach. “I should probably get home, as well. I wouldn't want to miss our little expedition tomorrow.”         “Yeah.” Twilight got to her hooves, and looked back up at the sky, craning her neck. ‘It really is a beautiful night. I’m glad you stopped by, Redd.”         I pushed myself into a sitting position. “Thank you for being up, Twi.”         She turned away. “Y… Yeah.”         “Goodnight, Twilight.”         She nodded. “Night.”         I opened my wings, pushing downwards. Pushing the air. “See you tomorrow!”         “Yeah.”         She slowly went inside, not turning back to look at me once. I watched without thinking much of it, though. Once the door was closed, I took to the air. Flying through the sky, the ground rushing below me, the clouds rushing past, and the stars above seeming to sit stagnant. I love the night, I do even today. When I get out of here, the first thing I’m going to do is go night flying. It’s my favorite thing to do.” ---                  “When you get out?” I ask.          “Yeah. I’m being held here against my will. Royal guard arrested me at the end of the Ponyville incident.” Note: Because of patient confidentiality, I didn't even know he was under facility arrest. This is noteworthy. Not only because he was arrested around the Ponyville incident, but because it was the Royal Guard. This means Royal hooves could be dabbling in such matters. Could our princesses really be involved in such a seemingly unplanned happening? This brings up questions that I feel I need to go elsewhere to find answers to. I ask the question on my mind. “So, do you think the royal sisters were involved in the incident?” He grins. “Oh, your real interests show. Oh, the colors of a journalist. It’s fine, I am one. But because I am, and I know why you ask, I will say… I'll get there. Be patient, and please don't interrupt my story. It’s my story, afterall.” Jumpy, pushy, assertive. Yes, Redd is a natural-born journalist. I keep my mouth shut. “Shall I continue? No response? Oh, well, I'll move on.” --- “I will not bore you by further accounting the details of my flight home, instead I'll move on to the more interesting part of my story. My dream. That night, when I drifted off into sleep, I found myself at Zecora's hut yet again. Like before, It was dark. Unlike before, I did not have a light. The darkness was frustratingly unsettling. The hut was exactly as it had been previously, including the absence of zebra. This will sound strange and cliche, as most of what I say does, but I could feel eyes watching me from the dark foliage outside the clearing. I attempted to ignore it, and did exactly what I knew I shouldn't do in such a dream. I approached the hut. This didn’t lead to a problem. When I got to the door, it opened for me. I timidly stepped inside. It was dark, but I could see a single candle lit in the center of the cleared floor. It barely lit the floor around it, creating an eerie sphere of light in the middle of the drowning shadows of the hut. Like I said before, I had decided that I would throw caution out the window. This was a dream, after all, and therefore nothing could hurt me. I approached the candle. Several things happened at once. The door slammed shut behind me, the candle fell on it’s side, and I covered my head, expecting something bad to happen, such is the standard in dreams. when nothing did, however, I opened my eyes and looked around. The candle had not gone out, but flickered dangerously as it slowly rolled across the floor, leaving a trail of warm wax in it’s wake. I followed it with my eyes, deciding that however irrational it might be, I was not going to move, even if this was a dream. My previous confidence had been shaken by a simple slamming door. The candle hit a wall and stopped rolling. There was something etched into the wall that I hadn't seen when  was at the hut earlier: coherent writing. Coherent writing that mentioned my name. I just stared. Maybe it was a dream, but it was still pretty unnerving. The candlelight candle flickered as wax melted and flowed over the wick, threatening to douse the flame. I rushed to the candle and flipped it upright, not wanting to be in the hut with no light whatsoever, even if it was a dream. Now that I was close to the wall, though, I could could plainly make out my name in the writings on the wall, scattered amongst the other indecipherable writings. It was bold, large, and hard not to notice. I like to think the first time I saw it, I just refused to believe it was there. But there it was, so I must have missed it. I followed the line of writing, making out a message. It read “The forest is not safe, nor the town, nor your house. You can find refuge nowhere. You are the key to the end, Redd. The turmoil will taunt you until the end of your days.”         I didn't have a good response, deciding my mind was playing some sick joke on me. I dismissed it. Well, I kind of dismissed it. Words like turmoil taunt and damnation tend to rattle around in one’s head, especially when paired with that particular pony’s name.         Like I said, I didn't have a good response. I read the message over and over, cycling my eyes over the words. “Damnation, turmoil, taunt, end of days. What does it even mean?!” I turned away from the wall, pacing through the shadows. When I turned back, the message was definitely still there. It hadn't changed.         “It’s a dream! A dream! A dream a dream a dream! It’s all in my head, it’s a dream, it’s in my head, in my mind, projections of my subconsciousness. It's a dream, all a dream!” I rambled on, reverting back to my pattern of pacing. I willed the message to change. It bothered me, the words searing into my mind. Damnation. No. I couldn't let it. Again, I turned back to the wall. It was still there. Unmoving. Unchanging. The only movement it the room was me and the dancing candle-light. I turned away from the wall a third time.         “It’s a dream, in my head, internal. It’s not really. It doesn't matter because it isn't real. Calm down , you're going to be fine. It isn't real. It’s not real. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Real. It’s wrong. Lies! Wrong! Fake, my mind, my dream!” I lashed out, kicking the candle.         The light moved, the candle spinning and rolling of into the darkness. It calmed me down and jarred my senses enough to interrupt my frenzied tirade. My only light source flashed and flickered as it hurdled across the floor. I sat, fixated, as it hit the wall to the left of me. Again, it didn't go out. I let out the breath that I didn't even realize I'd been holding.         My luck ended there, however. Something fabric was near the burning wick, and I watched in horror as the sideways candle’s flame licked across the fabric, gridily eating at it’s fibers. In a flash, that wall was in flames.         I was no longer sitting.         The flames quickly spread, devouring the dry wood along the floor of the hut, spreading itself along the pile of possessions that the candle had halted against. They illuminated the rest of the hut in an eerie light, a light I could see by. I located the door to my right, and was there in a flash. I attempted to open it. As one would expect if they thought that my dream would follow the standard set by such cliche dreams, the door didn't move at all.         I pounded against the door with reckless abandon. The confidence I had felt just minutes ago had been chipped away at, and I had finally cracked under the pressure. I completely forgot it was a dream.         “I’m going to die! I can’t die! No! No! No! I can’t! I don't want to burn! No!” My thoughts were jumbled, disjointed, frantic, and to be expected. I could already feel the heat eating at my back.         I began to cough as the smoke creeped into my lungs, and I turned back to the inferno behind me. It was bright, like looking into the sun. As I coughed, I scanned the room for another way out. There was none. Piles of personal possessions burned, the floor, walls, and ceiling all flared to life under the heated display of power. I heard glass shatter under the searing temperature, and I could see blue and green flickering in with the blinding orange and white. Chemical flames. The scribbled writing covering the walls, ceiling and floor seemed dance in the flames, catching and throwing the light around. Damnation. The fire was getting closer, and I was still there. Sitting, coughing, pathetic. Even in an inferno, I felt a chill run down my spine. The word damnation shone from the wall to my right, glowering at me through the flames. I turned back to the door, attacking it with newfound fervor. I threw my weight against it, ramming my shoulder against it with as much force as I could, coughing and sputtering as I was. I threw myself against the solid wood, and it gave. The door tore from the frame, and I rolled out into the clearing, flames nipping at my hooves. As I pushed myself up off the ground, coughing up soot, I turned to see flames licking out of the doorway, curling around to the roof. I could still feel the heat of the blaze. I pushed across the ground, dragging myself, coughing, scrambling across the ground. I pulled against the dirt until I couldn't feel the heat anymore, and I curled into a ball, shaking. I coughed and cried. Burning, involuntary tears ran down my muzzle. The crackling fire echoed in my ears, still drowning out the din of the forest. I turned my head to look behind me, finally able to move without shaking under the strength of my retching coughs. I gazed at the hut, and watched with macabre fascination as it collapsed inward, sending a shower of sparks and cinders traveling upwards with the billowing smoke. everything in the clearing had caught fire, creating an almost perfect circle of flames. The inferno caught everything within this circle in it’s fiery jaws. But it stopped at the edge of the circle, as if there was an invisible boundary. It was surreal to watch, as I coughed up soot and blood. A few overhanging branches from the canopy blazed to life, shearing clean off at the edge of the circle. The fire formed a pillar of inwardly folding fire, eating all within its circle of influence. As I watched the flames slowly die, and my coughing stopped, a shadow caught my eye across the clearing. It was tall, slender, and had a smooth, featureless maw. It seemed to watch me, even with it’s lack of eyes. It’s gaze seemed to bore into my soul.  It was the stranger. I knew it, I could feel it. It was the stranger I had given an invitation to. I turned and fled. Dream or not, I decided, I was getting out of there. It was getting way too freaky for my liking. Key to damnation. The words rang through my head again, and I sped up, lifting myself off the ground, spreading my wings and weaving through the trees. I tipped upwards, and burst through the canopy, shaking leaves from between my feathers. The crackling of the flames I had left behind still echoed through the forest, reaching my ears. I turned back to the noise, seeing the smoke rising into the air, the flickering light at it’s base almost hypnotising. I oriented myself towards the town, deciding that I was done with this cursed dream, and done with my subconscious. This dream sucked. I flew towards the buildings. When I touched down on the empty street in front of my house, the sound ricocheted off the buildings around me, echoing through the streets. In my paranoid state, I saw moving shadows, pursuing me, lurking in the alleyways. I hurried inside and bolted the door, leaning against it to catch my breath. The scent of burning wood, paint, and assorted chemicals still lingered on my fur, I noticed as I sat, braced against the door. I breathed heavily, and slid to the floor, wondering what in the world I had just witnessed. Damnation. I hurried up the steps, running from my own mind, futile as it was. When I got up the stairs and to my room, I noted the door was shut, yet, when I opened my bedroom door, the window was not. My bedsheets were thrown to the side. I never opened my window. With a sigh, I closed it, and got in my bed. I figured going to sleep in the dream would wake me up. I dosed off. When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the alarm clock. As usual, it was incredibly annoying, a shrill, repetitive pattern. I was clearly not dreaming. The aggravating tone of the clock was too real to be my brain’s replication. I hit the snooze button, and rolled over. As I studied the wall, a scent reached my nose. Smoke. I quickly sat up. I could smell smoke, right there in my house. The smells of burnt wood, paint, and something vaguely chemical permeated my room. I shook my head as I remembered my dream. “No, Redd, it’s a dream. Just a dream.” I reassured myself. It didn't work very well. I pushed myself out of bed, and crunched my spine, stretching my wings. I yawned as my entire body defaulted into another stretch. I heard my spine crack, my wings following suite. I showered, brushed my teeth, and got ready for the day. But as the shower washed away the mysterious smells, and the dirt of the night before, the memoried of the dream I'd had became more defined, more clear. The vivid memories and the smoky scent argued perhaps I hadn't dreamt it at all. I preened and went to grab my saddle bag. It wasn't there. When I thought about the overwhelming amount of things I'd done the previous day, retracing my steps, I realized I'd left it by the couch in the library. I swore under my breath, and left, once again, for the library.” Thus ends this excerpt from MANUSCRIPT E.