Night's Twilight

The clock ticked along at its own steady pace, the noise sounding like a heavy drum line in the silence. It had long become the only sound in my life. Music no longer sounded the same. The inane chatter of ponies just sounded like a swarm of angry bees, so much so that it had come to the point that I just hid out in my office all day and night. I stared down at the blank pages in front of my face. They begged me, pleaded me, just asking for something to make their existence worthwhile.

My brain felt like a broken machine. The cogs whirred and ground against one another, but they refused to work properly. I just kept replaying dismal scenes in the back of my eyes. It was one depressing flick after another in the movie theater of my mind. It had been twelve weeks; twelve weeks since that rainy day. I had gone back to Canterlot Publishing every day for a week straight, and each time I was thrown out by security, and each time I didn’t even catch a glimpse of her. After the second week, I tried to find out where I could track her down. I spent my days outside the publishing house and my nights at every hotspot in the city whilst sending my book out to every other publisher I could find.

I gave up after the third week.

The house remained in the same state since then. I hadn’t bothered picking up anything besides my office. I never left my desolate house save for when I needed to. My friends, if I could call the fair-weather ponies friends, had begun to refer to me as ‘the ghost’. A cute little quip about my disappearances, I’m sure. They didn’t help. I couldn’t care less about what I looked like or what state the house was in. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anypony anyway.

I took a deep breath. Not surprisingly, it didn’t help me. This was truly pathetic for me; a new all-time low. I couldn’t even come up with the appropriate words I needed for the letter. I snorted while I beat myself down inside. The pain had long-since become numb to me. It was a daily battle I continued to lose. I had abandoned the will to keep up the fight any longer. I didn’t even have my manuscript with me to keep me afloat anymore. It was floating around somewhere in the world, in the hooves of another skeptical publisher. Everything had been ripped away from me.

I pushed away from the desk and stood up, pacing back and forth in the compact loft. My stomach ached and turned over. Why was this so difficult? What was I waiting on? Surely it couldn’t have been as awful as everything I had been through so far. Hell, it was the one surefire remedy. I was fixing this. There was nothing left to lose. So why not take the chance? And what was I waiting for?

There was a knock downstairs. I could only just hear it up where I was, the quiet house lending aid to that. A swift glance up at the clock told me it was most likely the mail pony. I realized I hadn’t even bothered getting my mail this week. There must’ve not been any more room in my mailbox by now. I sighed and made my way downstairs. One delay wasn’t going to change my mind now. Then again, if my mind had been made up, why was I stalling?

I realized it was because I was scared. Or was I just being a coward? That wouldn’t have been a new one for me and seemed a lot more plausible given what had been said about me. I approached the front door and pulled it open in no rush. The mail pony was already gone, but today’s mail had been stuck in the door. I pursed my lips into a thin line and gathered it up with my magic. As much as it seemed asinine to even bother, I couldn’t help myself. It was a natural reflex. I didn’t like leaving messes. A glance into the destroyed lounge made me cringe. I just couldn’t bother right now.

The five letters in the mail were the epitome of the humdrum life I was more than eager to leave behind. A bill, another bill, an ad for some new restaurant downtown…

And then I saw the fourth letter. I recognized that address. I recalled the emblem embossed in the corner of the envelope. My heart missed a beat. This was it.

In a flurry of hooves and magic, I tore the envelope to shreds, somehow managing to keep the precious sheet of paper contained within intact. It was difficult to open the folded paper with shaking hooves. It was even more arduous to read the quivering words, but my eyes attempted to move with my trembling grasp.

This was it. The words within this letter could open doors to worlds I had only dreamed of.

Dear Mr. Writer,

We have reviewed the submission of your manuscript and thank you for your interest in our representation. However, we will unfortunately be unable to recommend your work for publication due to its outstanding blacklist status. That said, we also find there is a lack of a market in the intended audience of your prose, and we cannot support something so uninteresting to the general public.

Regards,

— Manehattan Printing and Publishing

My still-frozen heart sank like a stone, taking my hopes with it down into an empty void. Blacklisted. Uninteresting. Why was I surprised? After all this time, I really shouldn’t have been. But the fact that it had spread to every publishing house across Equestria now struck me like a slap in the face. I almost tossed the last letter on reflex alone when I noticed the return address. It was a personal letter from somepony I definitely did not expect.

I brought the letter with me back into the loft, tearing it open and yanking the contents out curiously. It was a single sheet of paper and a couple of photographs. I read the letter first while I set the photos down on my desk, my eyes skimming over the sleek and deliberate writing.

Nighty,

Hellooooo, my friend! Long time, no talk. I bet you were surprised to see a letter from me, huh? I know we haven’t really been in touch since you moved to Canterlot, but I hope you’re not too busy being a big shot author to forget about your small town friends. Ha ha!

I cringed when I read that line, but proceeded onward regardless.

Anyway, I just wanted to extend you another invitation to come by for a visit. I know you still haven’t seen my new place yet. That’s okay, you’ve been busy, I totally get it. But if you’re ever free, just drop me a line. I’d love to have you over and catch up! I miss you, buddy!

Hugs and kisses,

— Treble

I flinched as I read the letter. Treble Clef. I had forgotten to get back in touch with him. At first, I didn’t regard the letter as anything but a friendly sentiment. But as my eyes drifted over the photographs of Equestria’s countryside and a smiling unicorn I had come to know well, my desperation for faith began to take the wheel from cold rationality. What were the chances this letter would arrive today of all days, at this exact moment? The odds were astronomical.

Very few things made me believe in fate. Hell, I was more of a skeptic than a believer. Cutie marks were as far as I bought into destiny. But now, looking over at the neat tower of rejection letters and down at the pile of scrapped and failed letters of outrage I never sent strewn about the floor, I couldn’t help but buy into it a little more. The idea of running away to someplace safe seemed a lot more enticing than letting myself get helplessly beaten up by my own psyche, or jumping off Canterlot’s walls.

That was it. My decision and been made.

My horn came to life. I grabbed the paper and quill and set to writing. I had to get away—away from everything and everyone. I didn’t even care where I was going.

Dear Treble,

I’d love to visit…

The train was oddly quiet for what I had been expecting. Then again, going to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the day didn’t exactly spell the ideal time for rush hour. Still, I was grateful for the silence. It gave me a lot of time to think and reflect. Actually, it just gave me time to sulk and be miserable. The mostly empty train afforded me my own seat beside a window without the awkward need to make idle chitchat with whoever decided to sit next to me.

I stared out at the sunny countryside of Equestria and let my dismal mind run rampant. In the past few weeks, my life had seemed to be stonewalled. I hadn’t written a sentence of value in longer than I cared to remember. Inspiration avoided me like the plague. The rejection letters just kept piling up until I could make a small fortress of failure out of them. There was nothing more frustrating than being stuck in a rut you simply can’t climb out of, and it was fast proving to be the bane of my existence. I was just sad all the time now. Nothing excited me. I had no reason to get out of bed in the morning. What was left to be happy about when everything I had cared for was gone?

I shut my eyes tight, trying to block out the droning voices of past conversations ringing in my ears. If I couldn’t be myself, I couldn’t function. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t live. It already felt like a huge chunk of myself had been taken out, like pieces of a puzzle yanked violently from their proper places and scattered across the floor. Canterlot had become a stagnant pond for me. Each day was proving more and more how futile it was to make any progress with me dragging myself down this boulevard of broken dreams.

Desperation had mostly made up my mind that day I got Treble’s letter. If I couldn’t find my muse back home, then I’d go where I could find one. It sure beat the hell out of the alternative. I had to take control back. I had to do something to feel like I was putting up a struggle. That was the plan I had decided on while pulling out of Canterlot Station. I would put it all on one last gambit, double or nothing. I either found myself or gave up.

And here I sat, doing my best to ignore the lingering smell of body odor and some sort of cheap air freshener in the fabric of the seats and the over clocked air conditioning turning the train car into a moving ice box.

I caught a glimpse of my translucent reflection in the window. I barely recognized myself. My once-lively amaranth eyes had dulled, the vigor gone from them. My silvery mane, tidy as it was, had begun to lose its luster. Even the color of my coat had seemed to lose the sheen in the dark blue fur. My friends were right; I looked like a ghost of my former self. I was not proud of what I had let myself slip into, but by the same token, I couldn’t care less what I had become. I had lost the liveliness that had once made me Night Writer. I had lost the passion and fire that had driven me to Canterlot in the first place.

The train rolled across a river just then, the bridge leading across the water and past a hill. A small town came into sight, sitting on the horizon just past the flowing river and nestled beneath a bright blue sky. I recognized it from one of Treble’s photographs. The train drew nearer and nearer to the thatched-roof cottages and rustic, humble buildings. I could see a number of brightly colored ponies milling about in the open fields even from where I sat. They seemed to be enjoying the late-spring weather.

The train gave a blare from its whistle as it pulled into the town station. It was little more than a single platform with a nameplate overhead. It was a far cry from the grand station I had departed from. I didn’t have very high expectations for this place after observing that. The car pulled up parallel to the platform and my eyes ran over the sign through the glass.

Welcome to Ponyville.

So this was to be my home for a while. I sighed and pushed myself away from the wall. The decision had been made and the plans were already set in motion. Might as well not put it off any longer.

After I gathered up my saddlebags on my back and single suitcase with my magic, I trotted leisurely down the car. It was a short hop down to the platform and then I was officially here. No sooner had my hooves hit the ground, I instantly felt the rays of the sun warm my coat. It was a strange sensation at first. I had avoided the outdoors for such a long time in my dreary state of mind that even something as natural as sunlight felt foreign against my skin.

“Night! Hey, Nighty! Over here!”

As if by magic, I heard an all too familiar voice shouting for me. It didn’t take me long to sweep through the hoofful of ponies greeting one another at the station before I finally spotted the chestnut unicorn stallion waving in my direction, his green eyes shining as bright as his smile. It brought a slight twinge to my lips. He made his way over as fast as his scrambling hooves could allow while I forced my best smile.

“Hello, Treble Clef. It’s good to see— Oof!”

I was abruptly cut off as Treble Clef all but threw himself at me, smothering me in a tight embrace. “Ooooh, it’s soooo good to see you again, Nighty! Gosh, what’s it been? A year?”

“Ten months, but who’s counting?” I chuckled and hugged Treble back. The outward affection was something I had come to expect from him in our friendship, but all our years still could not have prepared me for it.

“Well, exactly! It’s been far too long, my friend!” Treble finally pulled back, still all smiles as he looked me over once. “You’re looking good.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“No, really! I expected a lot worse when I got your letter,” he said, then motioned past his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you settled in and we can catch up some more. Oh yeah, and welcome to Ponyville!”

We left the train station and headed down the dirt paths into the heart of Ponyville. I couldn’t keep my eyes from continuously glancing to and fro, taking in the sights of the modest village. Compared to Canterlot, the entire place felt like a foreign country. Why Treble Clef had ever decided to move here was far beyond me. It looked like there was little to nothing here; the picture-perfect definition of rural.

In honesty, I half expected him to know I was thinking that. I was a city colt used to the towering structures and grand architecture of metropolises. No. I would make the most of my situation, even if I had to. Treble had been nice enough to invite me here. Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Thanks again for putting me up, Treble,” I said after a few minutes of walking. “I’ll try not to be too much of a bother. I don’t want to be a burden. I just needed to get away from Canterlot for a little while.”

Treble Clef once again surprised me with an affectionate rustle of my mane. “Oh, don’t give it a second thought, pal! I’m happy to have you here! You stay as long as you need to. I know how hard creativity can be to find, especially when you’re going through rough times. Actually, that can sometimes be some of the best times!”

“Speaking of creativity, how’s your songwriting going?”

That question alone brought new life to Treble’s already overly bright eyes. “Well, I’m glad you asked!”

The gleam in his eyes made me realize just what sort of Pandora’s box I had opened with that question.

“It’s going really well, actually! I’ve got a number of songs I need to demo and send out to Canterlot to see if anypony’s interested in picking them up. I’ve got a hoofful more currently being written too. Hay, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a whole album ready for recording by the time I’m done!”

“That’s really great, Treble!” I replied with the first genuine smile to touch my face in weeks, slight as it was. I was just grateful he didn’t want to talk about my life. “Ponyville’s been good to you. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something that’ll get me going again.”

“We can only wait and see. All you need is the right muse.” Treble Clef cut me off with a sharp turn in front of a house. “This is it! Come on in, and remember, mi casa es su casa.”

The house was definitely not what I had been expecting. The front looked like every other timber-framed-style house in Ponyville. I didn’t have high hopes for the interior. When he walked through the door, I imagined Treble to have gone native and adapted to the local style. I was pleasantly surprised to see most of the modern furniture from his old apartment in Canterlot had survived the transition. Geometric furniture painted with black lacquer paint made up most of the décor. Several of Treble’s more eccentric pieces of art sat on display around the rooms. In fact, the entire house had the cozy feel of a Ponyville cottage with the styling of a Canterlot apartment. It was an interesting blend of tastes, one I surprised myself with by actually liking.

“Very nice,” I said with a nod of my head. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Treble laughed lightly as he took my suitcase from me. “Remind you of home?”

“Yes and no. It’s very… very you.”

Another titter came from my gracious host. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Come on, I’ve got your room all set up upstairs!”

Treble led me up the small flight of stairs to the second floor. A single hall that spanned the length of the house made up the second level with only a few doors to be spoken of. He led the way to the door at the very front of the house and swung it open with a quick burst of magic.

If I had thought the house had been a surprise before, the bedroom put me in a state of shock. The space was compact, yet homely. A large window at the front of the house overlooking Ponyville’s town square and market overtook most of the far wall. Red linen curtains hung at either side of the window. A comfy-looking bed lay in wait for its occupant, the white linen sheets and red blankets tucked neatly into place. An old dresser and mirror sat over in one corner, completing the domicile look.

But what brought a spark of life back to me was the desk set up just below the window. An inkwell and quill lay on the surface beside a stack of papers. When I approached the desk, I noticed something else that took me aback. A small bowl filled with sprigs of fresh lavender sat as potpourri, casting the room in the light scent I adored. It was clear that Treble had paid meticulous attention to every finite detail when getting this room ready. The notion was enough to bring an honest smile back to my lips.

“So, how do you like it?” Treble asked from behind me, leaning on the doorframe. “I know it’s not much, but I like to think I did a pretty good job.”

Still absorbing the sentiment, I levitated the quill off the desk, bringing it back and forth in front of my face a few times. The feel of holding the writing instrument in my magic’s grasp felt so right. I had to try it out. I dipped the nib into the ink and quickly scrawled my signature across the first sheet of paper. My eyes watched while the ink dried, soaking into the paper as a smile split my face.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Treble. You’re… It’s really too kind.”

“You know me, it’s the details that matter! If anypony can appreciate that, I know it’s you.”

There was a moment of pause between us while I let myself get accustomed to the situation. The nightmare world I had been expecting to endure was slowly turning better, if nothing else but for the help of my old friend. Sometimes it amazed me just how much friendship could chase away the worries of the world.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in. I’ll be downstairs when you’re good. Tomorrow, I’ll show you around Ponyville a bit and introduce you to some ponies I think you’re gonna like.”

I scowled a tad at that statement. While the idea of socializing didn’t exactly strike me as the activity of choice right now, I knew it had to be better than hiding away and nursing my wounds all the time. Besides, I knew Treble Clef enough to know he wouldn’t let me worm my way out of that one. He was a social butterfly. Anypony caught with him was automatically entwined in that personality by associating.

“All right. I’ll be down shortly.” I heard the soft clop of hooves on the wooden floor turning to leave and spun around. “Treble—”

Treble Clef stopped where he was and looked back my way from the doorway, curiosity in his eyes.

“…Thanks.”

A smile spread across Treble’s face and he gave me a dismissive wave before he disappeared back down the hall. Left alone to my own devices, I felt the small smile slip slowly off of my face. I lifted the latch and opened the window, letting the warm May breeze come wafting into my face. It rustled my mane gently while I surveyed my temporary home away from home.

For all the dread and gloom I had poured into forcing this trip, Ponyville hadn’t turned out to be quite the hell I had imagined it would. It was more like a purgatory at the moment: not quite fire and brimstone, but not yet pearly gates either. Then again, there was still a lot left to be seen. It was a place to redeem myself—though the fresh air, warm sunshine, and lush vegetation dared to challenge my denial of paradise. I did have to admit the landscape was gorgeous.

I sucked a deep breath into my lungs through my nostrils, taking in the scents of freshly cut grass and fragrant flowers mixed with baking pastries. Ponyville had been a new start for Treble Clef. I dared to let myself hope that it could be the same for me.