The Voices Inside My Head

The Voices inside My Head

By: The Sentimentalism Brony

Prologue

My name is Amethyst Pen, and I’m an author… Well, at least I would like to consider myself one. You see, I write various tales of trials, tribulation, and sweet romance. Occasionally, I travel outside my comfort zone and write something…Well, let’s say…Different. But I only write like this when I get into one of my moods. You know the kinds. The days when you wake up and feel the whole world is against you, out to get you, and is creepily breathing down your neck. And that’s how I feel today. So, this is what I’ll do: Sit around my lovely two floor cottage, which resides near the edge of the Everfree Forest, and write my feelings away…One page at a time.

Sliding my favorite writing chair across the living room to my desk, I climb upon it and loom over my Remington Envoy typewriter. I pick up a piece of Amen Pomerantz parchment and place it into the machine, spinning the spindle on the left side to feed it through the machines inner workings.

Paper in place, I open the protective ink ribbon flap, and remove my old worn ribbon.This thing has seen so many letters; it’s crazy to think it’s time for it to go, I thought, before popping the two corresponding sides of the ribbon free of their post with a slight click.

“Now,” I said out loud to nopony in particular, "to insert the new ribbon spool.”

I popped the metal tin next to me open with a loud clank and peered within its metallic walls. This ribbon was a standard Remington Envoy replacement spool. The spools would last anywhere from four-hundred – to five-hundred pages of manuscript.

Placing the lead-in spool on the right shaft, and the supplier spool on the left, I secure them into place before closing the protective cover backup tight. The typewriter is now complete again. Whole. Like the Elements of Harmony, themselves.

I place my hooves over the delicate keys, before I’m stopped by a knock at the door. I lift myself angrily from my post, and make my way towards the door.

Placing my hoof on the door handle, I twist it slightly, slowly so.

“Hello,” I state as I open the door past the threshold to full attention. The pony standing beyond my little oak door, happened to be a mare, Fluttershy. I heard about her in the Ponyville Local after that horrible accident at the Overlook, just over ten years ago. We had sat down together just over two weeks after the incident occurred. Me being me, I wanted to get every detail of the incident, but didn’t want to intrude, or worse, offend. She did lose her husband after all.

“Oh, hello,” She says meekly, rubbing her forehooves together, from nerves no doubt. “ It’s been awhile since we’ve gotten together for tea. And I was wondering if you would like to come over tonight?” She asked.

That’s right, I forgot. Fluttershy and I have been getting together, almost regularly might I add, for tea and biscuits. She knows I love the things, as she read it in the ‘get to know the author’ section of my book Look before You Leap. She loved that book. In fact, I agreed to sign it if she got Big Mac to sign my copy of The Truth in the Matter. Of course, the signatures came before the incident, although the book still remains one of my prized possessions, I even got it a display case and everything. The whole nine yards.

“Yes, Fluttershy. That sounds excellent. What time would you like me to come by?” I question. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Any time after six would be perfect,” she states, rubbing her hooves together again. “Apple’s been asking about you lately. He says he wants you to look over a story he’s been writing…” Fluttershy looked down, and a frown began to spread upon her soft yellow features. The scene was enough to almost cause me to cry, but I did my best keep my vulnerabilities hidden away. “…Looks like he wants to be just like his father. And I don’t know if I can let him do that…” The last part was broadcasted in a hushed tone, so I pretended I didn’t hear it.

“Well, that’s great news! There’s always more room in Equestria for new writers. And I would be pleased to be sharing the space with Apple.” This seemed to lift Fluttershy’s spirits some, before she continued speaking.

“Well…I’ll see you later then,” she said, beginning to turn and trot away.

“And that you will, Ms. Shy!” I yelled out. “I’ll talk to you later, bye.” I closed the door, and turned to move back to my typewriter, when a thought struck me: That was one weird conversation. Shrugging it off, I move back to my writing tool of choice, and station myself at the helm.Now, to get back to work, I thought, placing my hooves back in their standardized posts. I went to make contact with the keys again, but stopped. Not because somepony knocked at the door again, but because I had no Idea where to continue from. It seems my mood has- I stopped my thought. Never mind, it’s back.

My hooves went wild, clashing with the metallic construction of the spring loaded keys. The clacking was exhilarating, breathed new air into my old lungs. I had the inspiration back. The inspiration that had been lacking ‘til this particular day.

The words continued to splash upon the page frantically, as my hooves began to grow weary. They were moving in such a swift motion it was almost unbelievable. The words appeared before my eyes faster than I could register them as complete and sound thoughts in my head.

‘Azure Pendant entered the darkly lit room, and slunk across the wooden floorboards like a snake. Today was the day. Today was the day he would kill Shadow. Bludgeon him to death with the typewriter he used to write his very novels with. It was a selfish act of greed. But when somepony takes the only mare you’ve ever loved, and flaunts the victory in your face, like some kind of fucking success story, you tend to get at least slightly agitated.

Nearing his bed, Azure peered overtop the obstruction, shooting metaphorical daggers into Shadow’s very soul. The daggers, however, were significantly less painful then what Azure had in store for Shadow. For Azure had planned an extravagant night, full of grueling despair. And Shadow was going to experience what it was truly like losing something he held dear. His life. His life as he knew it, would be turned into nothing more than an unidentifiable mess for the coroner ponies to sort out.’

I looked up from the parchment as my typewriter dinged twice, consecutively. The double-ding was a way of the typewriter telling you, you had less than seven characters left to type out onto the paper.

Removing the paper, I scanned over the text and decide the content was good enough to keep. After all, when I was in one of my moods, I always liked my initial work. Unlike when I would write for my other stories, when I would go through, at the very least, three drafts of each page before I was completely satisfied. Tedious, I know, but it saved on the agonizing editing ritual I sent myself through before my proofreaders and editors even go to see the final draft.

Looking over to my grandfather clock, I noticed the time and decided it would be best to prepare a small dinner, as well as shower before I head over to Fluttershy’s. Because something tells me it might be a long night.