The Written War
By Skeeter The Lurker
Prologue Of Words
“We’re not going to have a normal class today.”
The various students in the class perked their ears at this. What could the professor mean?
“I’ve always held that you cannot force art or inspiration or creativity.” He was pacing back and forth in the front of the class, making gestures with his hands to emphasize his point. “It’s not something you can simply, well, turn off or on, like a light…”
A few knowing glances amongst the class were had. One student in particular cracked a small smile at that. He could claim to know that quite well, spending many a class doodling in his notebook… Indeed, he spent more time doodling than taking notes. Yet, somehow, continued to make excellent grades (B+, A- range, no less).
The professor noticed the glances. “Hah… Yes, yes. I know a few of you can. But THAT’S not the point. What I mean is that art and anything creative would be best if allowed to just happen.”
He stopped pacing, taking instead a position at the drawing studio at the front of the class. “Which is why I’m making today’s class a free class. Only rule is you must draw something. I don’t care what.”
THAT got everyone’s attention. A free class? HERE? NOW? The student had been in Full Sail University now for almost 2 years. In that time, he’d not once gotten such a class. Ever.
And from the looks from the other classmates, neither had they. The professor looked on in mild amusement before taking his seat at the desk. “I’m well aware that this kind of thing is unheard of, but I’m quite serious. Free class, draw whatever.”
The student shrugged, ‘May as well get started’, he though, and began to retrieve his supplies from his bag. The student next to him spoke up amidst the murmuring: “But, sir, this is a 12 hour class!”
That made the chatter stop and agree with him. The professor, in his years of teaching, simply smiled. “Oh yes. I know. Don’t worry; we’ll have our breaks. Heck, you can even eat at your desk… Just clean it up, yeah?”
“But…”
“Listen, I know all too well how chaotic this school can be. I know the stress you’re under at time. Believe it or not, I, too, was student like you. Not only that, I’m aware of what can be expected of you in a job. And let me tell you… It’s VERY nice to take a day and just relax. So just take your time and draw or write to your hearts content today. Nothing will be expected of you. No test. No homework. Nothing.”
“Can we listen to music…?” “Yes. Just put on some headsets.”
“Anything at all…?” “As I just said, yes, anything you want.”
For the most part, the student sighed and went about setting up his studio space in the classroom. He pulled out his laptop, his drawing pencils, and a few sheets of paper, all with in a minute or two.
He placed a pencil to he paper… And realized he had no idea what to draw and write about. Trying to think of something he shifted around in his chair, promptly causing a sharp point to hit his rear.
Lifting up, he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the culprit behind the pain: a small figurine.
‘Huh… Forgot I had this.’
It was a small figure, no better than the size of his thumb. It was shaped like a horse, reared up on its hind legs. Cerulean blue in color, one could say it looked more like a pony than a full-blown horse, and indeed, based off the show, it was a pony. This particular one had wings, making it a Pegasus, but more than that was its mane and tail color. It was colored in the colors of the rainbow. Also of note was a small mark on it flank: A single cloud with a single rainbow lighting bolt coming from it.
It was a figure of none other than Rainbow Dash, from the show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It was a gift, no less, from a good friend of his.
The student stared at the figure for a full minute, finally smiling and setting it down on the side of his desk.
‘Why not?’ He thought, ‘He DID say anything…’
Placing his pencil on the paper he began to draw…
He finally knew what he wanted to write about….
A Farm of Words
It was a beautiful morning in Ponyville. With Celestia’s Sun just beginning to make its way across the sky, it held, as always, the promise of yet another good day. It was a Sunday, a day, at least in Pinkie’s book, dedicated for fun, games, and simply relaxing.
Or, in the case of a certain orange-colored mare, going out and doing a bit of harvesting in the orchard, provided she could actually wake up… She, unknown to her friends, rather liked to sleep in on Sundays.
A groan, shuffle of covers, and one well-placed (by no one in particular) sunbeam later, life was returned to the mare and she rolled out of bed. Marginally deterred by hitting the floor rather hard, Applejack heaved herself up and proceeded to the restroom, followed by her room (she forgot her hat), and a final stagger down the stairs to the kitchen.
Approaching the kitchen table, she graciously accepted the coffee offered by Big Mac. Her thanks to Mac ended up as a half-hearted mumble.
A small grin spread upon his face. He knew full well she didn’t like waking up early on Sundays. She was also going to hate him, in about 1 more second.
“I need ya ta buck the north-west orchard. Seem’s they be ripe enough for havestin’.” And right on cue: A low slightly anguished groan from her.
“Do I haf’ta?”
“Granny? Would’ya mind bucking…?” Big Mac began, cut off, on cue, by Applejack.
“Now hold yer horses! You know Ah’m jest jokin’!”
Both Granny and Big Mac chuckled at that. “We know, AJ, yer jest too easy when ya wake up, y’know?” Applejack shot a glare at him that would make Fluttershy proud; of course, Big Mac simply laughed it off.
After a few more cups of coffee (More like 2 pots worth), and a hefty stack of pancakes, Applejack set off for the orchard. Stepping outside, Applejack took a deep breath; at least it was going to be a beautiful day.
Now if only this headache in the back of her neck would go away…
Fashionable Words
It was a beautiful morning in Ponyville.
For a talented and up and coming young fashion designer, it was set to be yet another jam-packed day of dressmaking and client pleasing. Just the way she liked it. And with the business for the upcoming Gala, she had quite a bit on her plate.
With a dainty, and most certainly ladylike, yawn, Rarity began her usual ritual of waking up. With her nightgown on, she made her way to her vanity and began to apply her usual make up.
She paused, briefly, to examine her complexion. A look of mild concern washed over her face, seemed the stress was getting to her. That simply wouldn’t do, maybe a trip to the spa after lunch? But whom would she take with her? She couldn’t ask Fluttershy, she was set to go with her Monday, plus she was dealing with a few new animals today. Princess Twilight Sparkle (Still felt odd to say that)? No, she was expecting a shipment of something or other, plus a few more lessons from none other than Princess Celestia herself. Pinkie Pie was still banned after setting fire to the baths (No one could explain how she set water on fire). All that was left was only Rainbow Dash and Applejack to ask.
…
Right then, alone she would go, not the first time she’d done it, nor would it be the last. But first, breakfast and a quick check on Sweetie Bell.
Checking the rooms revealed no sign of the young CMC member, and strangely, and fortunately, enough, none of her vital supplies were missing. But that left the question, where was she? And more importantly, what was she getting herself into?
A quick check of all rooms reviled no sing of the wayward filly, save for a single note on the kitchen table: “We’ve gone off to try for our cutie marks. CMC Tax Preparers GO!” Rarity wonder whether to step in at that, it wasn’t like the government needed more money…
Out of sight out of mind. They’ll be fine… She hoped.
A quick breakfast later, a final check of her hair, and a sign flip later, Rarity found herself in her workshop, sorting through her stock for her current dress.
She didn’t notice the green color of her magic aura…
