Night's Twilight

The alarm clock shattered the silence in my head and tore me from my fitful sleep. Darkness gave way to dull gray light as my eyes fought to open. The half-empty bed was the first sight that welcomed me to the new day, certainly the worst thing I could have imagined waking up to. I reached a hoof over and ran it over the undisturbed sheets on that side, hoping it would trick my sleep-addled mind into believing I hadn’t spent another day all alone. It failed. Of course it failed. What the hell was I expecting?

The alarm clock was still ringing like its entire existence depended on it making that horrible sound. My muscles ached and cried out in protest when I rolled over to find the infernal device on the nightstand. My hoof all-too eagerly smashed into the brass, shutting it up.

The bells stopped. Silence closed in around me again. All at once, I became aware of just how quiet the empty house was. There was no music playing downstairs. The shower wasn’t running in the adjoining bathroom. I couldn’t hear or smell any food cooking down in the kitchen. It was just me.

I sat up in bed and leaned back against the headboard while my groggy mind tried to catch up to being awake. I glanced at the clock. The face read nine in the morning. I scowled at it, as if I could intimidate the time into something more suitable to myself. Why was I even awake? I had no reason to be up, or to get out of bed.

Despite the depressed protests of my subconscious, I forced myself to get to my hooves. My joints popped as I stretched and threw the curtains back with my magic; it did little to light the messy bedroom. I could hear the rain falling outside. Another beautiful day in paradise…

I stepped over a few shirts and jackets strewn about the floor and made my way to the bathroom, running my tongue over my dry lips and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I got a good look at myself in the mirror and flinched away. I had deep bags beneath my eyes, something I was not used to seeing. I chalked it up to the several nights of bad sleep and made a mental note to find something to help knock me out.

A quick brush of my teeth cleaned my palate from the musky taste of morning breath and a swift run of a comb through my silvery mane brought it back to its natural state. When I deemed myself fit for the day, I turned and headed downstairs to the kitchen to continue my morning routine with breakfast. I stepped outside into the misty rain while I waited for my toast to finish cooking and grabbed the mail from the small box beside the door. To my surprise, there were quite a few letters. It was odd. I didn’t usually get much mail at all. Usually, all the mail was for…

I snapped my head to and fro. No! No, I wouldn’t think about that anymore. If I wanted to get better, I had to move on. It had been a week now. What was done, is done. All I could do was pretend to be all right and keep my head up. There was nothing more that could hurt me now anyway.

I trotted back into the kitchen, levitating the letters to the table while I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down to sort through it all. I swallowed a deep draft of the dark liquid, the hot, bitter flavor flowing down my gullet and warming my chilled body from the inside out. It was glorious, and I reveled in the feeling.

I brought the first letter up and read the front—and my magic nearly dropped my cup. It was from Canterlot Publishing. It was about my book.

I couldn’t stop my heart from palpitating as I hurried to tear into the letter. I opened the tri-folded sheet in a flurry of torn envelope and magic. There, at the top, was the letter mark of the most prestigious publishing house in all of Canterlot. I knew in my heart that it was a long shot for a newcomer like me to catch their attention, but I had faith in my talents. Knowing somepony high up on the inside didn’t hurt either.

Dear Mr. Writer,

We are writing in regard to your manuscript The Hawk of Stalliongrad. It has come to the attention of our literary agent that the work you submitted is not of your own, and has been previously submitted by another author. As you are well aware, we take such offenses very seriously. We cannot accept any documents that have been plagiarized from others’ work. As such, we will be rejecting your submission. We will also be informing other agencies and publishing houses of your situation and blacklisting your work until our agency can determine if this was a deliberate act of plagiarism.

If you have any questions regarding the deliberation process, please contact one of our literary agents. Should you wish to pursue business with us, you may appeal your case before a board.

Regards,

— Canterlot Publishing House

My mouth dropped open. I heard the porcelain cup shatter against the floor before my mind even registered that my magic was no longer grasping it. My lips twitched like I was trying to speak, yet no words formed on my tongue. I reread the letter, trying to comprehend what I was seeing.

This had to be a joke. This had to be some kind of prank. I turned the letter over, and over again. There was no forged mark or hint that anyone else other than Canterlot Publishing had sent it. But it just wasn’t possible. Plagiarism? I had never plagiarized a word in my life! How could they be claiming I had done something so dishonest?

And then dark realization hit me like a ton of bricks. They weren’t the only publishing house I had submitted my novel to. My eyes drifted down to the stack of letters on the kitchen table.

I tore each one open with fervent urgency. My heart sunk deeper and deeper into the pit of my stomach with each one. Alicorn Associated Press: rejected due to blacklisted status. Royal Canterlot University Press: rejected due to blacklisted status. Every single letter was the same thing on repeat. I had been blacklisted; I had been damned.

Numbness overtook my body and mind. I could hear the toast sizzling and burning away in the unattended toaster oven. I remained unfazed, seated at the table in my state of shock. How could they think such a thing? Who would make up a lie like that? Who would ever do something like this to me?

A face popped into my mind, the only pony I could think of with the power to do something this heinous. I realized I knew who it was all along.

“Sir, please sit down.”

I stared at the receptionist behind the granite counter in the lobby of Canterlot Publishing, giving what I hoped was my best set of pleading eyes. She didn’t seem moved in the least if I was.

“Please, you don’t understand,” I spoke in a flurry of words. “I need to speak to her. Something is very wrong. I don’t have any other choice.”

“Like I told you, sir, nopony just waltzes in off the streets and sees our agents,” she snapped impatiently, not bothering to look up from her paperwork anymore. “You want to see somepony? You have to make an appointment.”

Her lack of sympathy was starting to get beneath my skin. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. “Fine. When’s the next appointment available?”

“Four months.”

I could feel my jaw drop and eyes widen. Did she say—? “No, that can’t be right. I have to see her now. Is there any way I could get in, even for just five minutes?”

“No, sir.”

“Two minutes?” I bargained.

“Sir, I already—“

“You don’t get it! My whole life is riding on this!” I threw my hooves across the surface in a dramatic motion, begging and pleading now. “Please, just one minute. That’s all I’m asking for. One minute to straighten things out. If I don’t, I’m done. Please, I’m begging you.”

The mare’s eyes finally lifted from her stack of paperwork and met mine. She looked at me with the flattest expression I had ever seen on a pony’s face. Cold, unsympathetic eyes bore holes into my face. I knew the answer before she even gave it.

“Please step away from the counter before I call security, sir.”

My lip quivered a little. “But I—“

“Have a nice day, sir.”

I watched with despondency as she turned back to her work, ignoring the fact that I was still standing there. My mind raced, dire to come up with some proper, mature way of handling this situation.

“If you don’t get me in to see her, then I’m not moving from this spot,” I declared.

That got the mare’s attention. She looked at me with a tired, sarcastic look. “Really? That’s your grand plan?”

I crossed my hooves over my chest and parked my flank on the cool tile floor. I couldn’t leave without clearing my name. There was no way to circumvent that. I had been stonewalled unjustly, and if I couldn’t progress without a clean slate, then I was going to force them to pay attention to me.

“Fine, have it your way,” the mare sighed and pressed a button.

I heard a door open behind me after a few moments. I turned to see two bulky security guards come striding across the lobby, the gruff glares on their faces telling me they meant business. Unfortunately for them, so did I.

Fortunately for them, they had about a hundred pounds of muscle on me. I felt their hooves grasp me under mine and drag me across the floor to the door without so much as an effort.

“No! Let go of me! I need to set things straight!” I shouted. My hooves kicked and flailed in a desperate attempt to get free. It was all in vain, and the next thing I knew, I was being flung out the front doors of the building onto the wet sidewalk. I landed right in a puddle, the cold, mucky water soaking me from head to toe. My mane hung damp over my eyes, and through the silvery-gray curtain, I could see them laughing and heading back inside.

“Can I at least get my manuscript back?” They either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. The rain fell cold against my wet coat, sending a shiver up my spine while I collected myself and got back to my hooves. My eyes ran up the tall structure, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of the pony I needed to see in the hundreds of windows. I don’t know how long I stood out there in the rain, but she never came.

I waited until the daylight began to fade and the streetlights came on. She never came outside. I could only guess she was either still in there or that security had tipped her off and she’d slipped out the back. I had no idea where to find her beyond this building, and Canterlot was huge. Sniffling back a runny nose, I gathered up my broken spirits and trudged back home, vowing to come back tomorrow. I would do this every day if I had to. I had no other choice.