I've never been good at summarizing. Succinctness was never my strong suit. Turns out I was never that good at writing either... At least, that's what I had convinced myself of. Words were the one thing that came naturally to me, even if nopony else wanted to read them. Books were my solace; literature my sanctuary. It was like living a dream.

But when a dream is taken away, what do you have left? What do you do when the one thing you loved is torn away? What is most important in life? How do you judge character? Is it by popularity? Talent? Money? Love?

I've never been good at summarizing, so let me start at the beginning. My name is Night Writer, and this is the story of a pony, a choice, and a book.

Thanks to k64speed for proofreading, and to gmoneywalker and irobern2857 for pre-reading.