A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Colt

by doctor dapples

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 2338

A pony tries to get his writing career off the ground, with a little help from Twilight Sparkle.

A solitary pony tries to get his writing career off the ground, and receives a little help from a mare who just happens to live in the Ponyville Library.

The first story I wrote featuring Dapples.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2011-07-11 06:05:06 UTC

Chapter 1

When he was younger, he used to get a lot of manure about his disinterest in magic. It just wasn't normal for a unicorn. It would be like a pegasus showing no interest in flying. At least that's what his parents used to say. Heck, they still said it, but thankfully less often. They'd backed off a bit once he started writing with that typewriter. Some ponies developed a real talent for hitting those keys accurately, but Dapples had gotten frustrated from the very beginning with repeatedly slamming eight keys at once and going through multiple pages before turning out something mildly legible. So he learned to use his magic to type, and it was the one thing he did better than anyone. And now the spotted grey pony had a typewriter key on his flank. D. "Dang it," Dapples sighed, once someone pointed it out to him. "I'm the luckiest colt in the world."

But while he may not have been blessed with any great talent for magic, or a look that appealed to more than a small percentage of ladyponies, he was actually quite satisfied with his place in life. Dapples wrote copy for one of the kingdom's biggest daily papers, and the work took him all over Equestria. His last big assignment was about the return of Nightmare Moon, and after the chaos of that story, his boss allowed him to take a hiatus in Ponyville. He was spending his vacation two ways. For one, he was trying desperately to get out of covering the Grand Galloping Gala again. Every year, the boss sent him, and every year it was the same dull show. He would've walked out last year if the cellist hadn't talked him up during their breaks. But he wasn't going to attend this year just on the odd hope that she might remember him. In any situation, his repeated pleas to his boss were definitely seeming to have an effect, and he was pretty sure that this was the year he wouldn't spend that evening bored out of his mind.

More importantly, Dapples wanted to be a novelist. He was tired of always running around all over Equestria, trying to keep ahead of the rival papers. He was tired of having to stay up to the minute on every event, small or large, and being expected to never repeat himself. But mostly, he was just tired. He dreamed of a life where he could sleep all through a night without a knock on the door, or to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee, or to actually get the chance to talk to a mare for more than one night. And when he wasn't exploring this newly discovered personal life, he could write. He could put his magic to the keys and share his great ideas with the world.

There was only problem: he didn't have any great ideas. The first couple of weeks of his hiatus had found him pacing around his Ponyville apartment, his mind a blank slate. The only thing he had written that entire time was a nauseating piece about an old fillyfriend, and the writing was so awful, he almost called off his vacation right there. Instead, he swung by the library, in hopes of reminding himself what good writing feels like. It turned out that the library was serving as a residence to another unicorn named Twilight Sparkle, who was Princess Celestia's prize pupil. They struck up an immediate conversation about the recent occurrences in Ponyville, and Dapples was flattered to find someone that actually followed current events as closely as he did.

After about an hour, he asked to use the bathroom, and was pointed up the stairs to a hallway. Two unmarked doors. "Which one is it?"

"The teal one." They looked exactly the same.

"Oh...kay," he bit his lip and opened the door on the left. He had obviously picked the wrong door, as he entered not a bathroom, but a small room with nothing but a table, a chair, and a window. A reading room.

"Sorry, I forget that not everypony has their colors... ah, you stumbled in here. I've never been able to figure out what to do with it. I do all my reading in the main hall. I like having the space to spread out."

"I'll take it," Dapples said, without thinking.

"What?"

"I mean, if you'd let me, I'd love to use it for my writing. I'm going insane in the mane over at my apartment, and this is just the sort of environment I could really thrive in." He looked at Twilight, hopefully. "Again, if you'd let me."

The purple unicorn smiled. "Of course! I hated having this room go to waste, and I'll feel so much better if its being used to further knowledge. I'll let Spike know that we'll have a visitor during the days!"

• • •

And so here he was, sitting over his typewriter in the small but well-lit room in the Ponyville Library. However, the change in location hadn't helped his ability to write. He still had nothing on the page. In fact, his writer's block had led "during the days" to include some sleepless nights as well. On the rare occasion that he did stay through the night, he didn't venture out from the room, except to use the bathroom. Twilight had been a gracious host, and she deserved her privacy. On a few nights where her late night vigils coincided with his, she brought him a cup of very soothing lavender tea, which usually had the counterproductive quality of putting him right to sleep in his chair. Yes, Twilight had become even more than a host. She had become a friend. And as often happens with friendships, Dapple was beginning to...

Dapples gasped. "I've got it!" And suddenly the keys were clicking away.

After what felt like ages, he had found his muse. The Doctor started tapping at the keys at an increasingly frenetic pace. The words he had searched for now came pouring out onto the page, one letter impact at a time. What he had stumbled across was a fantastic romance novel, perhaps one of the finest ever written, but the story had not come from fiction. Rather, this was a narrative that he had been living firsthand, at this very moment. He once again turned his thoughts to her - the color of her hair, the shape of her body, her magnificent voice... if only he had met her earlier. But then, what of their whirlwind courtship? What of the days entwined in each others' forelegs, or of barely lit evenings, and whispering sweet nothings into welcoming ears? There was a knock at the door, delicate and yet firm, followed by the lilt of the unicorn's sweet voice, asking to come in. As always, he bade her enter without a second thought. The door opened wide and her elegant purple shape appeared, seductive as always. She walked slowly, deliberately over to the table, and stood next to her lover.

"How's it going?" Twilight chirped.

Dapples snapped out of his typing frenzy with a start. Had he really just let her in? He glanced over at her. "...Goooood...", he said nervously.

"I'm really sorry to have interrupted you, but I heard all the typing, and I got excited. Is this the first thing you've written?"

He turned and looked at the long paragraph on the page in front of him. "Yes..."

"Can I read it?", she asked with enthusiasm.

Dapples looked at Twilight, then looked at the paragraph. Body. Courtship. Seductive. Oh no. Oh no no no. He thrust his upper body onto his typewriter, covering up the page. "No! Sorry... it's not ready yet. I've got to rewrite it."

"Oh, come on!" she said playfully, trying to get a peek at the paper while he blocked her view with his body. She was giggling while he politely attempted to discourage her. After a few moments of fruitless struggle, her horn began to glow, and the page lifted itself out of the typewriter. No matter how hard Dapples tried to grab it back, Twilight's superior magic kept it well out of his reach. As she brought it to her eyes for reading, Dapples sat on his hooves, awaiting his fate.

She hadn't gotten more than a sentence in when she lowered the paper and looked at him. "Doctor?" He smiled sheepishly. "You've never performed medicine."

He raised his hoof. "Doctor of journalism."

She narrowed his eyes and smiled at him. "No, you're not." He put his hoof down, and she kept reading. Her face lit up as she cooed, "Oh! A romance novel! How sweet!" The colt began to get hopeful, but as she kept reading her face changed to one of skepticism, then of surprise, then of outright shock. She put the paper down and looked right at him. Almost through him. A look that says, "What the hay is this colt thinking?" He felt cold.

Dapples chuckled nervously. "How do you like it?"

She put her hoof down on the sheet. "Do you want to explain it, or shall I draw my own conclusions?"

He bit his lip and looked up at her. "You inspired me?"

"To make up lies?!"

"It's not you! It's a fictional character!"

"What's her name?"

He thought for a moment. "Skylight Twinkle." Good one, genius.

Twilight broke her scowl and sighed heavily. "Seriously, Dapples. What exactly is going on here? I let you into what is essentially my home, offer you space to do your work, and the first thing you put to paper is a fantasy about me? I mean, what am I supposed to think?"

"I-I'm sorry, Twilight," he stammered. He searched his brain for anything that resembled an explanation, but the only thing he found thoroughly depressed him. "I'm... I'm just not a very good writer." He sighed, and rubbed his eyes, wiping away the moisture that was building up against his will. "I have just really appreciated all you have done for me lately. And thinking about it, well..." He breathed in deep through his nostrils. "It made me happy. Happier than I've been in a while. And suddenly this whole scenario flowed out of me. I just got carried away."

"Well..." Twilight said. "It honestly wasn't terrible. And I'm really glad that you're happy. But it's still a little weird for me to read that."

"I know. I know."

"Maybe romance just isn't your genre?" She smiled hopefully, and looked thoughtful. "Did you ever consider writing horror?"

Dapples shook his head. "Oh no. No no no. I knew this pony, a sergeant in Celestia's army. When he got out of the service, he wrote this crazy novel about a pony who drugs, tortures, and kills her best friend. Now, no matter how much other stuff he does, ponies only want to talk about that story."

Twilight made a face. "Yikes. I can understand not wanting that sort of legacy around your neck. How about instead of making up stuff about us, you can write about some make-believe adventures with other artists or some of your favorite musicians?"

"Fanfiction? Are you serious? How big of a nerd do I look like to you?" Twilight smiled and held back a chuckle. "Please don't answer that."

The purple filly composed herself, but all of a sudden a large grin spread across her face. "Did you ever consider something closer to what you have been doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe fiction just isn't for you. What about historical nonfiction? I can already tell you there haven't been any books written about the return of Nightmare Moon."

The colt scratched his chin. "Hmm... that's actually not a bad idea."

"Not bad? It's a great idea!" yelled Twilight, slapping him in the shoulder. "There's a ton of ponies who would probably be thrilled to be interviewed about it, which would you get a bunch of different perspectives on the night she first showed up. And I'm sure all of my friends would be happy to talk to you about the journey!" She gasped. "I could probably get you an audience with Princess Celestia!"

Dapples felt his jaw drop. "Really?" He tried to maintain his composure, but he was getting very excited himself. "You think this would work?"

"Sure! And I'll help you all the way!"

Her response caught him a little off guard. "Even after what I wrote?"

"Look, I genuinely like you, Dapples. Definitely as a friend. Maybe even... maybe even something more. But its far too early to say. And its definitely too early for our supposed 'escapades' to be put into print." She smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Thank you, Twilight. I appreciate this, everything so far, and anything else that you are willing to do for me." She reached inward and gave him a hug. It was a short embrace, but with his face pressed against her violet and pink hair, it felt somehow longer.

She released him, took one look at his stupid grin, and shook her head, still smiling. "Go home and get some sleep, Dapples. We'll start gathering resources in the afternoon."

He nodded. "Absolutely. I just need a couple moments to clear my head."

Twilight turned around and walked to the door. He followed the movement of her body as she walked. He watched the motion of her legs as the muscles made the cutie mark on her flank rise up and d-

This time, Twilight grabbed the paper mid-sentence from across the room. She took one look at it and crumpled it up with her magic. "You're going to be the death of me." Her horn glowed as she launched the ball of paper at his face.

Dapples closed his eyes, bracing for impact, but it never came. He slowly opened his eyes. Twilight was gone, and the paper ball was impaled on his horn.