Ha ha. Ha. No.

This story actually dates to 2014, and then it sat for several years before I remembered that it was even there. It was originally going to be a flashback aside for another (much larger) story about the modern MLP Rarity, but it is nearly 5000 words all by itself.

So it got cut. I re-read it a few weeks ago, and I think it's good writing. So, I'm posting it. I think it's sweet.

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Alrighty, back in the doctor's office and ready to practice. It's a new group and a new style but I remain your stalwart fanfic doctor. My apologies to everypony still in the waiting room; the doctor will see you now.

You, of course, have heard of The Pleasant Commentator and Review Group. They have been reviewing Ponefic since the dawn of FiMfiction. Look me up and throw me a story!

Wow, work just got crazy.

That is, sadly, the life of a dev shop. We try to plan on a steady stream of work but each of our clients expect that they will be given priority.

Well, three separate services all required big interventions, and all of our clients are flipping out. So, no pony for me right now. Pony again soon, though. Thought you all deserved some manner of explanation.

Mr. Hemmelgarn has been showing up again. He's my old high-school English teacher. And late at night, or when I am really tired, he appears just out of sight. Just behind the corner of my eye. I can hear him breathing and wheezing, so I know its him. He huffs and puffs like a slowly-deflating air mattress, and he stares at me. He stares and whispers four ugly words:

"Write what you Know."

Shut it, Mr. Hemmelgarn. That's bad advice.

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Great post about Modernism by Bad Horse, here. Good to see you dropping in like that.

So, read his blog post. Then read Mr Numbers blog post. Then, go and get a degree in semiotics.

All ready? Good, let's begin.

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The Virgin Company - by Pone_Heap

When you first enter the sensory deprivation tank, you might feel anxious. The quiet, the weightlessness, the deep black void where once there was light -- it is an unsettling feeling, to be denied the very things we count on to keep us alive.

But I am in this tank for a reason. I am getting dispatches from an agent at the front. Here comes one now.

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I have always wanted to write. I have, on occasion, been able to demonstrate that I even have some meager skills at writing. (First story to be posted soon - so nervouscited!)

But, in truth, I hate blogs.

I was talking with my son about a particular play he made during a pee-wee soccer game. (I am old; deal with it.) He kept leading the conversation back to that play so that he could talk about how awesome he was.

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I admit, I have no good answer.

I joined in the crush of enthusiasm that first filled this community with all manner of misfits and oddballs. And, like many others, I wandered off after the enthusiasm waned.

And now I am here again, and I have no good reason why.

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So, if I want readers then I should make you feel welcome.

Hello.

I have a story. It's about ponies. And magic.

I admit, I am not your typical brony, having arrived here by watching MLP with my young daughter. I also admit to being slow at writing. Please be patient and watch this space: something interesting is afoot.