Author's Note: This is a short story based on Jimmy Bufett's ''He Went to Paris'' if you haven't heard the song you can find it here
''Entry no. 66
I met a young lad today, young and ambitious, much like I was back in my youth, so I invited him to share a bottle of rum and I told him this:
'For as long as I could remember I've been looking for answers to my questions, but back then I was young, and some would even say I was 'impressive' and I was definitely aggressive. Hell, back then I believed I could go out and solve all of the world's problems with a single hoof. When I grew older, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, I left my home and family to travel to Paris, hoping to find the answers I was looking for.
When I arrived, I was completely awestricken by the pleasant summer that filled the air around me. I grabbed my pack and trotted down the cobblestone mane street. I stopped at a small shop and purchased a bottle of Cuvée Bixinto, some crackers, and a wheel of Munster. I remember the meal fondly for it was the best I had at that point in my life. I found myself an apartment to live in just off of that cobblestone mane street. Time flew by me like the breezes that the summer winds carried. 'The summers and winters scattered like splinters.' I told him, and before I knew it four or five years had slipped away.
After those years in Paris I moved on and sailed north to England (North-east from my home country) . Once there I played the piano at a local bar and worked my way up, eventually becoming a concert pianist. At the height of my fame I met a beautiful actress named Kimberly, Kim for short. She was an absolutely beautiful mare. We married in the autumn a few years after we first met, and couple years later we had a foal and named him Jim, after my father.
After having my my son I bought a house out in the country. After moving I locked all the answers I found over the years in my attic. I enjoyed the country life and before I knew it, twenty more years slipped away from me.
War came to England and my son went out to serve in the queen's army. I will never forget the words on the letter I received. The war claimed many lives and of those lives, my son's was included. About two weeks after burring my son the bombings started. One week later, while me and my wife were in the city, bombs fell. The bombs hit the buildings around us. Cement fragments took my left eye, and a falling building took my wife. After the bombing raid I was rushed to the ER. As I laid in the bed, the tears fell like rain. As the tears fell I thought. I thought about my life, I thought about the life I couldn't live, and I thought about the questions. All the questions floated around in my mind and along with those questions there weren't any answers to accompany them.
After I was released from the hospital I made my way home. When I arrived at the familiar dirt trail that led to my house I stopped in my tracks. Where my home once stood, now remained a smoldering crater and fragments of wood. I fell to my haunches and the tears began to fall again. The war had taken everything from me and once more the questions entered my mind unaccompanied by answers I had yet to find. At that moment I made up my mind. I stood, head drooped slightly, and made my way back down the old dirt road for the last time in my life. Before long the smell of fish and sea water filed my nostrils. I exhaled deeply and slowly looked around the harbour before walking up the gangplank and boarding the freighter. A few minutes after boarding I sailed away, never to return to England again.
Nowadays I live in the tropical islands south of the Equestrian mainland. I spend most of my days sipping down a bottle of Green Label as I write my memoirs and loosing my hearing, but that's fine with me, I don't care to listen to what ponies have to say to me anyways. After constantly moving for eighty-six years it's nice to settle down.'
He told me he wants write my life story into a book, the kind that ponies can learn a thing or two from, so he asked me what I thought about my life. I looked at him, smiled, and said, "Well Jimmy, some of it was magic, and some of it was tragic, but I had a good life all the way." He looked at me, a smile on his face, and nodded. It was around midnight when he stood up, thanked me for my story and drinks, and left. It wasn't until now I realized that the only way to find answers in life is to live and learn from your and every pony else's past.
~ T.T.''
"That's the last one, he died the next night. He went peacefully in his sleep." I said as I looked up and closed the book. I gave my audience a sad smile and said my parting words to them before leaving. The book I had just read was a collection of the old man's journals and memoirs, it was kind of him to leave these for me even though I never knew the old man's for more than a few hours, but if I could, I'd visit that old man and thank him again for sharing his story with me and leaving his writings behind for me.
Thank you, friend, for everything.
The End.