To be, or not to be? (A prince that is)
Dear Journal/Diary thing.
My name is Derek. I am your owner and if all goes according to Celestia's plan, you shall be filled with my thoughts, darkest secrets and inner most desires. Or something like that. . .
Recent events has Celestia left in a state of worry. Well, worry for myself that is.
She is concerned that I am "Overworking myself" and "Not resting properly", so now she has me doing nothing but laying around and making me write in you. The trouble is though, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be writing.
I asked Celestia about this, but she keeps droning on about "writing what feels natural". As if it's that easy. Nothing feels natural as I do this. I am thinking about every line carefully before I put it to paper.
I don't get how this is supposed to relieve stress, if anything, it's causing me more stress: trying to find the words is pretty difficult when you have never done a lick of writing in your life. (School being an exception of course. At least then I knew what I was supposed to be writing about.)
I sighed as I set the pen down. I looked over the paper in front of me, noting the fact that it took me just under half an hour just to write that small bit. 'I don't see why she wants me to do this. . . ' I thought as I ran my hand through my messy brown hair. 'I'm used to making images with a pencil and my sketchpad, not with words and a journal. I'm not that kind of artist.' With a final, defeated sigh, I picked the pen back up and pressed it to the paper.
I am honestly stumped. When it comes to drawing, I can create glorious images that some have actually paid me for, but this writing is beyond my capabilities.
I've got to give credit where credit is due. I'm having trouble just putting my thought to paper, but authors create worlds! They paint beautiful canvases within others imaginations. They can bring endless amounts of joy to their readers, or they can rip out the readers still beating heart and crush it beneath their boot.
Sure, I can draw a pretty picture, but authors are truly amazing in my book.
A dull pain had stated welling up in my hand, so I stopped for a moment before it started to cramp. I massaged my aching wrist and looked down at the now slightly more filled paper with a small victorious smile. I had realized that I had started writing without particularly having to think about it. Sure it wasn't much, but It was definitely something. It barely took me fifteen minutes to jot that down!
I still didn't like being forced into writing out my thoughts though. And the now fading hand cramp didn't really help the writing idea seem any better.
Hmm. . . Went on a little tangent there, didn't I? Though, is it really a tangent if I wasn't really on a subject to begin with? I'm actually quite curious about that. I'll think more about that later. I suppose I should find a subject to write about before I go off and distract myself like I usually do.
It's funny. There's an infinite amount of things I could write about, but nothing comes to mind. I could write a biography of one of my heroes. I could weave a wondrous tale of gallant knights fending off deadly beasts of nightmares. I could even tell a joke, but alas, I can't think of a single thing write.
Or perhaps, I should write about how I got to where I am today. I suppose that's what Sunny Buns wanted me to do anyway, but that can wait. For, now it is getting late and this monkeyboy needs his rest.
Heh. Monkeyboy. That's a nickname I doubted I'd ever live down. Ever since I got here, those who didn't know who I was generally called me something along those lines. Monkeyboy, Ape, naked primate. I've heard them all. It was always funny to see their reactions when they realized they were insulting a "Royal". Not that I ever considered myself one though.
The nickname Monkeyboy only ever really stuck because of a pony named Rainbow Dash. That's all she ever called me. At some points, I doubted she even knew my real name. Not that it really matters though. She'd get a kick out of calling me Monkeyboy, I got a chuckle from calling her Skittles. She never got the joke, but it was funny nonetheless.
'Maybe someday, I'll bring her a bag of Skittles and let her try some. Might be dangerous though, I don't think even this world could handle that much Rainbow in a single body.' I thought with a chuckle as I closed the journal and moved towards the big ball of comfort that these ponies call a bed.
I slid into the mass of sheets and pillows carefully, as to avoid waking the small fuzzball that was already asleep in the bed. Once I had comfortably found my way under the sheets, I looked over to the oil lamp that adorned the wall across the room and gave a small flick of my finger, causing the small bright flame to sputter out.
"Heh, I love magic." I said with a small smile. Perhaps a bit too loudly, because a small whimper came from beside me. I looked over and saw a small pair of adorable golden eyes looking at me. I pulled the small creature towards me, shushed it and said "It's okay, Daddy's here." With that, the little fluff ball nuzzled into my side and drifted back to sleep.
I sighed and soon, I too had fallen asleep.
Author's Note
Well, looky there! It's an update! Granted a small one, but one nonetheless. Hmm? Future chapters will be longer, I promise!
For those already following this story, I explained in my last blog post why everything is different now. I didn't like the way the Derek's character was heading, blah blah blah. This is how the story will be from this point on until I decide otherwise, mostly journal entries about how Derek got to Equestria and what happened once he got there.
For the new guys reading. Welcome! his a total rewrite of a previous story I started awhile back, so you guys aren't going to be left out on anything.
Remember to comment and let me know what you guys think! I read all of the comments, and criticism is always welcome! Also, make me aware of any grammatical/spelling mistakes in the comments. That's always a big help!
Hope you guys enjoy, and thanks for reading!
