Night's Twilight

by Dusk Quill

Rating: teen
Tags: Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Original Character, Pinkie Pie, Slice of Life, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 13528

In the pursuit of his dream, Night Writer will learn what truly matters the most, and that one chance encounter can make all the difference.

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.

Published 2014-04-11 17:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-01 20:44:17 UTC

Chapter 1: Darkest Before the Dawn

Night's Twilight

By: Dusk Quill

“The heart will break, but the broken live on.” — Lord Byron

No lights illuminated the inside of the modest living room. Pale darkness had made its residence amongst the couches and cushions, casting long, gray shadows all around the room. The same could be said for the turbulence spiraling about in my soul. I stared blankly at the bare walls where half a dozen pictures had once hung, each empty spot taking a piece of me with it. The soft, melodic sound of the falling rain on the roof and windows would normally have soothed my spirit and lulled me into a sense of tranquility. Now even the mellifluous lullaby only felt like a gale in a typhoon.

I heard a soft clatter behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around; I didn’t want to see the last box leave. The gentle clop of hooves on the parquet floor alerted me of my friend’s presence just behind my back. He had stopped. I knew why.

“I think I got the last of the stuff.” The voice didn’t even budge me, save for a flick of an ear to signal that I had heard him. “Do you… uh, do you maybe want me to hang out for a bit?”

I just shook my head slowly, barely tousling my white mane. Hanging out was the furthest thing from what I wanted to do. “No thank you, Orion. I’ll be fine.”

Despite the refusal, Orion still didn’t leave. I wished he would. I wanted nothing more than to be left alone. I always dealt better when I was on my own. I didn’t need anypony else. I never needed anypony else…

“I just want to say I’m really sorry, Night. I had no idea anything like this was going on.”

I bit my lower lip so hard I could taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue, forcing myself to remain as still as a statue lest I lose my composure. Strong—I had to be strong. I had no reason to not be. Things like this happened all the time. It was part of a common day occurrence. Common day occurrences hurt like hell. The blank wall had never seemed further away than it did now. I was miles away from the real world, nothing more than a spectator as this world came crumbling down.

“I know, Orion. Thank you.” I finally gave in and turned around, giving the pony a false smile. The weakness I knew resided in my eyes told a different story. I just prayed he wasn’t feeling astute today. I eyed the box levitating in his magic’s grasp, swallowing back the welling emotions it dredged up. “Just… get that stuff out of here…”

Orion nodded and lifted the box with his magic as he levitated it out the front door of the small townhouse. He followed it out the door, then paused halfway through.

“You’ll make it through this, buddy. You just gotta tough it out.”

Tough it out. No remark had ever struck me quite like a slap to the face as that did. Actually, one other came to mind… I shook my head, refusing to dwell on that grim thought. It was easy to say things like that when he had no idea of the battle going on. I gave Orion another weak smile. It was all I could do.

“Give Sunkissed my regards…” I murmured, my voice hoarse and barely audible even to myself. Once I had said it, I realized just how pathetic I must have sounded. I wished I could have taken it back.

Lifting the box with his magic, Orion placed it amongst a stack of several others in a cart outside on the cobblestone street of Canterlot. I stood in the doorway and just watched all the while as he and another pony began pulling it down the road and out of sight, taking my past along with it. In the silence and solitude, I suddenly became acutely aware that I was alone—alone at the mercy of my demons.

I shut the door, listening to how the latch clicked sharply into place. My hoof rested on the door while I lingered as if time had frozen around me. I stared intensely at the wood, following the path of the grain idly with my hoof. When my hoof finally fell to the floor, the resounding clop it made on the cold, unforgiving wood seemed to echo around the empty house like an explosion.

Morose thoughts lingered at the forefront of my mind as I wandered back into the living room. A flash of lightning emphasized just how desolate it was now. It was exactly what I had always dreaded. With my head hung low, I trudged up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. The door to the bedroom sat half open and was also cast in darkness. I refused to even give it a passing glance. I didn’t want to put any lights on yet. It would only make the fact I was trying so hard to deny all the more real.

No mementos remained—no photographs, no souvenirs of past trips or fleeting moments, no memoirs of a life now gone. The coldness stung at my aching heart, spreading through me like a disease that afflicted the soul. I continued upward, up to the tiny third-floor attic. The only room up here was my loft space. I had converted it into my own private study to conduct my work. It was supposed to be my sanctuary. Now the room that had once felt so welcoming and warm sat silent and shadowy, just like the rest of the gloomy house.

It also happened to be the one room Orion had forgotten.

I stepped past the bookcases overflowing with old textbooks, literary classics, every military fiction from Tom Prancy, adventure epics by A.K. Yearling, a variety of other acclaimed authors, and dog-eared romance novels, making my way over to the old oak desk nestled up against a large arch window. The view overlooked Canterlot Park. The beautiful and breathtaking sight that normally would have inspired me now left no mark. Dark clouds hung in the skies overhead, pouring rain down like tears on a forlorn land.

My eyes drifted down from the idyllic scene to the contents of my desk. Several bottles of ink and quills sat neatly to the side and a stack of paper lay in wait for their owner to fill them with characters and worlds and events. I pursed my lips together in a tight scowl. There would be no happy ending to this story.

That was when my eyes turned up—up to the framed photographs on the edge of the desk. The two ponies in each smiled wide, blissful grins at me from times long gone. Each one brought back a memory with it, and with those came more and more. The visions blurred together into a kaleidoscope of pain and regret. My eyes burned and I realized something wet was falling down my cheek. The roof must’ve had a leak in it.

My vision clouded with moisture the longer I lingered on each picture. I could feel my heart ripping itself into a thousand tiny pieces again. My jaw tightened, my teeth gnashing together so hard it hurt. My lungs ached and I became aware that I had been unwittingly frozen still. The icy knife left lodged in my back kept me from drawing breath.

And then I let all that raw pain and anger seethe out. I released a cry so full of pain and torment that I barely recognized my own voice mixed in it. I heard glass shatter and noticed I had thrown the pictures clear across the room, the reddish aura of my magic still subtly lingering around them. My insides hurt and my head was spinning. The leaky roof must’ve been getting worse; water was running down my face more frequently than before.

Levitating each photograph up, I fought back a sob while I tore each one into pieces and tossed them carelessly across the floor. I couldn’t stand looking at them any longer than I had to. I spun around, letting out another agonized roar as I knocked the papers and items off my desk in a blind fit of emotion. Nothing made sense and everything hurt. I needed release. The directionless fury provided that release. Freeing the pent up anger helped, but only for a brief second before the agony threatened to overwhelm rationality again.

I knew the dangers of letting my emotions get the better of me, and especially of my magic. The books from the bookcase joined the other items on the floor in the next burst of uncontrolled magic. Something heavy hit the floor and shook it beneath my hooves. I must’ve toppled one of the bookcases completely. I could feel the energy draining from every fiber in my body until I couldn’t fight any longer. When I finally lost the strength to keep lashing out, I collapsed into a heap on the cold floor, too tired and mentally exhausted to do anything but cry. I curled up on myself, quivering with each sob as the pain consumed me. Nothing had hurt so badly in all my life.

Somewhere between the emotional outbursts and self-loathing I managed to get back to my hooves. I ended up back downstairs in the bedroom, pulling out every ostentatious and outlandish outfit that insulted my personality and tossing them with nothing short of revilement down the stairs. I would get rid of them. I briefly considered burning them all.

The pictures in the bedroom were the next to be purged. They all met the same fate as their siblings up in the attic. The dressers were emptied and the bed torn asunder. This whole house was a bad memory that needed to be cleansed. Still spiraling out of control, I stumbled coming down the stairs again. I stormed into the lounge, looking for something else to take this unbridled anger out on.

With no more pictures left to direct my fury at, I turned to the only thing I had any power over: the stack of papers on the coffee table. I glared at the sheets while lifting them into the air. They were the cause of this; the reason this had all started. I saw red. I wanted nothing more than to put all the blame on the innocent pieces of paper, each filled with lines of elegantly scrawled text. I wanted to direct all the hurt onto them and be done with it.

But the more I stared at them, the more my heart ached. It would be so easy to destroy the manuscript. But I couldn’t. It was my work—my life. It had done nothing to offend me. In fact, it was all I had left now.

With another choking sob, I dropped the sheets of paper in midair, each one fluttering into a disorganized mess across the table and floor. My teeth gnashed together as the fire burned out within me. Sadness and regret replaced it in my chest. I stared blankly into empty nothingness while my mind tried to process everything and my body tried to keep from shaking. That was where I stayed for longer than I could remember. Somehow I ended up on the floor again, covering my face with my hooves as I came undone, thread by thread.

Chapter 2: Blacklisted

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.

Chapter 3: Purgatory

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.

Chapter 4: Chance Encounters

Touring around Ponyville hadn’t been as bad as I had been expecting. It had been a lot worse. After meeting with an energetic pink pony that seemed to defy all laws of physics, I came to realize that being a newcomer in a small town was bound to draw vast amounts of attention. Attention was what I did not want. Thankfully, Treble somehow managed to convince the pink purveyor of parties not to throw me a welcome celebration, lest I die from being forced to socialize. I was more than grateful for my friend’s defense—but even that only went so far.

The pink pony—I had to recall she had said her name was Pinkie Pie—followed us and became my unofficial tour guide of Ponyville. Every single structure we passed was graced with an excited story from Pinkie about who lived there and some random fact about said ponies, shortly followed by ‘I think you’d be great friends with them!’. Apparently I was destined to make a lot of friends here. I briefly pondered once more how painful suicide would be.

“So what do you do for fun, Nighty? Can I call you Nighty? Treble’s been talking about you nonstop for days, but he never told me anything about you!” Pinkie babbled on. It was like the pony had no off switch to her energy. She just kept going and going and going…

“I’m sure you can relate to the excited, incessant chatter,” I remarked, a touch of sarcasm in my voice. Pinkie either disregarded or had no idea what I had said. She just kept bouncing along beside me, her blue eyes full of energy and mirth. “I’m a writer. Or want to be a writer.”

Pinkie giggled and flashed me a humongous smile. “Want to be a writer? That’s silly talk! If you wanna be a writer, then go for it! You just gotta take a leap of faith and do it!”

I made a dramatic motion of rolling my eyes. “It’s a little more difficult than that. I need to find a publisher that likes what I do first.”

“Well, everypony loves books, so how hard could that be?”

“More so than you’d think…”

Pinkie continued to speak, but her words fell on deaf ears. I let the conversation slip away from me while I followed my ambitious tour guides through the town and into the marketplace. Booths and stalls filled with an assortment of goods and local produce were manned by the inhabitants, all shouting eagerly to try and attract business to themselves. It reminded me of the annual farmer’s market back in Canterlot, although I was sure this was the norm for Ponyville.

“Ooooh, and this over here is—”

“Heya, Applejack!” Treble called out, cutting Pinkie off as he waved to the orange pony beside an apple cart.

“Howdy there, Pinkie, Treble!” Applejack said with a wave back to us. Her keen emerald eyes fell on me next. “Howdy, stranger! I ain’t seen you ‘round these parts before. First time in Ponyville?”

“Yeah, I’m visiting from out of town,” I replied. “My name’s Night Writer.”

“Nighty here is friends with Treble. He’s gonna be staying with us,” Pinkie explained in all her merriment.

Treble nodded and gave me a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Yeah, poor old Night just hit a bit of a rough patch back home and needed to get away for a while.”

All I could do was roll my shoulders in a half-hearted shrugged. “You could say that…”

Applejack’s eyes lit up as she darted over and began shaking my hoof so vigorously that I could’ve sworn I felt the earth shake beneath me. Or maybe that was just my body flailing. “It’s mighty fine to make your acquaintance, Night! I’m Applejack! I run Sweet Apple Acres over yonder. Got some of the finest apples around, if I do say so myself!”

“I-It’s a p-pleasure to m-meet y-you, Applej-jack,” I said in amongst the earthquake greeting. It felt like my eyes were rolling around in my head after she had let go, the world tossing and tumbling around in my brain. “You own Sweet Apple Acres? I’ve had your cider before, back in Canterlot.”

Passion sparked in Applejack’s eyes the likes of which I had very rarely seen before. “Well, shoot! If you think our cider exports are good, you need to try some from the source!”

Before I could even bat an eyelash, Applejack snagged one of the ripest apples from her cart and shoved the fruit into my mouth. I gave a muffled sound of protest, my mind reeling as it tried to catch up to what was happening. The only way to keep the fruit from suffocating me was to bite. I bit down on the fruit obstructing my airway. My teeth sank through the crisp skin of the apple with an audible crunch.

Sweet, juicy flavor I had never experienced before rolled over my tongue, mesmerizing me with its luscious taste. Never in all my life had I tasted anything so full of flavor! I stood dumbstruck, holding the half-eaten apple in my hoof as I stared off blankly into space and drifted into a state of ecstasy.

The sound of Pinkie and Treble giggling brought me back down to earth. Applejack had a self-satisfied smirk on her muzzle, standing with her legs crossed in casual fashion in front of one another.

“Well? What’d I tell ya? Are they somethin’ or what?”

All I could do was glance down at the fruit in my grasp. I levitated it with my magic and took another generous bite from the ripe flesh. “Words fail me.”

“Wow! You made the writer speechless! What a feat!” Treble declared with a laugh.

“Always happy to bring a smile to somepony’s face. Now what was that about writin’?”

“Oh, Nighty is gonna be a world famous author!” Pinkie declared with a jubilant and dramatic wave of her hooves in the air.

I could feel my face flush with warmth. I wiped the stray apple from my mouth, swallowing down the fruit. “Let’s not get carried away. I’m just trying to write something half-decent and get noticed.”

Applejack tapped her chin in passive thought. “Say, if he’s a writer, I bet he’d just love to see the library!”

“Ooooh, that’s a great idea, Applejack!” said Pinkie, all but bouncing with excitement.

“You have a library?”

“Of course, silly! What sort of town doesn’t have a library? I mean, ponies love books, so where there are ponies, there’s books! Duh!”

“Yeah, what did you think we were, Nighty? A bunch of backwoods hicks?” Treble asked with a joking punch on my shoulder. His special brand of love was beginning to leave me with a dull ache.

I decided on holding my tongue instead of answering that question. In all honesty, I had expected something along those lines. I hadn’t spent any extended periods of time in a town like Ponyville before and had no idea what to and what not to expect from it.

A library… The notion interested me. I was reminded of the massive libraries back in Canterlot, of their high bookshelves and quiet studies. I had spent many hours in there, drawing solace from the peace of literature. It was the only place I had felt safe. Books never hurt anypony, after all. I didn’t expect anything like that from Ponyville’s library, but at least I’d still have access to books and resources, however minuscule it may be.

Treble nudged me again, gentler this time. “So whaddaya say, buddy? Feel like checking it out?”

“Library…” I couldn’t come up with an excuse not to. “…Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Then follooooow meeeee!” Pinkie sang out while cartwheeling down the road. Treble and I followed shortly behind.

“You be sure to come by the farm sometime and I’ll give you the grand tour. Y’all say hi to Twi for me!” Applejack called out after us as we left the marketplace. I glanced back at the orange pony as we rounded a corner. She was one of the friendliest ponies I had ever met. Definitely a different breed from the often uptight citizens of Canterlot. Genuine character like hers was a rare commodity back home. If everypony here was like that, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a terrible trip after all.

“Who or what is ‘Twi’?” I asked.

Treble Clef looked over to me when I spoke up. “Oh, she’s the librarian here. Really nice filly. Kinda neurotic, sorta obsessive compulsive, and way weird at times. I think you two will get along well, actually.”

“Is that a shot at me, Treb?”

He cast an innocuous grin my way. I had seen it enough times before to know the façade when I saw it. “Me take a shot at you? Never!”

“All right, let’s go see what this place is all about.”

Golden Oak Library, the sole source of literature in all of Ponyville, was pretty much how its name made it sound. It wasn’t a cute little metaphor or trope. The library was in all actuality a massive oak tree sitting near the far edge of Ponyville. The homely looking building looked more like the residence of a nature enthusiast than an establishment of information and the written word. Hell, I had never even heard of a pony living in a tree before now. I tried to keep an open mind, even as I was forced to trudge up to the door behind my two guides.

Along the way, we had come to several more stops where I had been enthusiastically introduced to every single pony we passed, all courtesy of Pinkie Pie. It seemed like she was determined to find some sort of recompense for not being able to throw me a party, and a tour that would have put the celebrity walk of Canterlot to shame was to be my sanction. All the while my treacherous friend left me to the wolves. Treble would laugh whenever he saw me get pulled aside by a pink blur to meet somepony new. I must’ve learned two dozen different names today. I swore he and Pinkie were in cahoots to try and pester me to death. I could already picture how that obituary would look in the paper. Two-bit writer annoyed to death, none mourn.

I took another long look at the outside of the library cast in the warm sunset as Pinkie pushed the door inward and Treble ushered me inside. Despite my reservations, I had to give credit where credit was due. The library was much larger inside than I had anticipated. Every single wall of the hollowed-out tree had been turned into bookshelves. Each one was filled to capacity with every kind of book imaginable. A few old tables lay across the room, also covered in books and papers. A set of winding stairs ran up alongside the wall to a second story. A door at the far side of the library hinted that the space was far greater than I had originally assumed.

“Are you insane, Twi?!” a boisterous voice cracked. My gaze turned to a unicorn and pegasus across the library, both fillies engaged in what I could only describe as a lively debate. “There’s no way Daring Do would have forgotten the location of the seven jewels of Quetzalcoatl! Not when they’d mean the end of the world as we know it! She’s not stupid!”

“But you’re forgetting the amnesia spell Ahuizotl’s warlock cast on her in book five,” the unicorn refuted, her voice calm whereas the pegasus seemed to be getting more and more worked up by the second. “It was never proven that she ever fully recovered her memories after Doctor Silvermane healed her. Your argument is an ad hominem, Rainbow. Where are your facts?”

“Knock knock!” Pinkie Pie called out as she bounced across the floor. “Heya Twilight! Heya Dashie!”

Both ponies looked up with a start, noticing that they were no longer the only ones in the library. I tried to surreptitiously step around past Treble Clef to browse through the shelves of books before I got pulled into another meet-and-greet. Many of them appeared to be informational textbooks and other scientific research tools. The fiction and fantasy section was a little nook of shelves, and romance and poetry were even smaller. It was obvious that the purveyor of the library favored the logical world over the creative, despite the fervent debate around A.K. Yearling’s masterpieces going on. It was not what I had expected.

“Oh, heya Pinks!” the pegasus replied with a wave. “Didn’t hear ya come in.”

“I’m sorry about that, guys. Rainbow and I were just discussing the newest Daring Do rumors.”

“That’s okay,” Treble replied. “Actually, we just stopped by because I wanted you to meet somepony.”

I had just walked past the fiction section when an unseen force tugged me backward from behind. The next thing I knew, I was spun around and found myself face-to-face with the widest, most stunning pair of purple eyes I had ever encountered. The unicorn mare looked just as surprised as I felt to be thrust into what I assumed looked reminiscent of a cliché from a romance movie. My head spun from the pseudo-abduction. A pink hoof draped over my shoulder casually and I knew who the perpetrator had been.

“Twilight, meet Night Writer! He’s Treble’s friend from Canterlot. Night, Twilight! Hehe you both have similar names and love books. It’s like you’re twinsies!”

For one tense moment all I could do was stare. I was stunned, taken completely aback. I had avoided looking over the two when we had entered. Now that I was forced up close to Twilight I could see every detail of her. Her eyes reflected a sheen of curiosity and warmth behind the rich violet irises, hinting to astute intelligence and intuition. I wasn’t used to being this close to anypony.

The expression on her face changed from one of intrigue to a welcoming smile and she extended her hoof towards me. “How do you do, Night Writer.” Her voice was melodious and kind. I could feel the gears in my brain working to try and respond. “My name is Twilight Sparkle.”

My head buzzed with white noise like static as if it were trying to reboot itself. I became aware that I had opened my mouth to speak, but no words had come out. I was standing there, slack-jawed, no doubt looking like an idiot. In a dire attempt to save some face, I lifted a hoof to hers, taking it with such delicate care while doing my best to keep a tremor out of my leg as we shook hooves. I somehow managed a lopsided smile and chuckled nervously under my breath.

“Uh… ”

My tongue felt three sizes too big for my mouth. I was choking on my own words. The room became uncomfortably stifling. Twilight arched a brow. I wondered for a moment if she was considering whether or not I was mentally ill. After swallowing back the frog in my throat, I fought tooth and nail to recover from the awkward state I was drowning in.

“Hello,” I said, my voice cracking in the middle of the syllables like a pubescent colt. I cleared my throat and gathered myself together again before trying that again. I could already see the beginnings of a smirk crossing her lips. Take three. “H-Hello. Pleased to meet you, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight giggled, her persisting smile making it that much harder to breathe right. “Twilight will be fine.”

“Twilight,” I repeated, a smile of my own widening across my lips, even though I felt clammy and unwell.

“Ooooh, fresh meat, huh?” the pegasus snickered with a grin before taking my hooves in the most volatile hoofshake I had ever experienced. I swear I felt my shoulder dislocate. “I’m Rainbow Dash, new guy. Most daring pony in all of Ponyville!”

“Nice to meet you too, Rainbow Dash,” I said, unable to help the sideways glance back to Twilight.

“So what brings you to Ponyville, Night?” Twilight asked with a tip of her head. “Not a lot of ponies from Canterlot come down here for vacations.”

I almost choked on my twisted tongue again when I went to speak. For some reason my brain did not want me communicating tonight. It was too busy focusing on my shallow breathing and the tingling numbness threatening to send me face-first into the floor. I felt Treble give me a surreptitious nudge to break me out of my daze.

“Nighty’s here because he’s gonna write a book!” Pinkie answered before I could. For once, I was glad Pinkie had interrupted and saved me. Granted, it wasn’t the answer I would have given, but far be it from me to beat the fast-talking pony to the punch in my current state.

Twilight’s brow furrowed and she looked befuddled. “You’re writing a book about Ponyville?”

I felt my face warm a little as I rubbed the back of my head, nervous tension constricting my insides. “Heh, uh, not exactly… More like any book. I’m trying to become a writer. Or hoping, at least. I’m just looking for the right inspiration.”

“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for in Ponyville. It might not be much, but that’s kind of the beauty in it. Simple, but somehow perfect.”

“Yeah, I think I’m beginning to get that,” I said in subconscious reply, smiling to Twilight.

“Twi, do you think you could help me find a rhyming dictionary or something? I’ve been having a hard time finding the right words for my songs,” asked Treble, stepping up to her. Twilight’s eyes snapped to him in an instant and she gave a brisk nodded.

“Of course, Treble! I think I have a couple of books that you might find useful.” With that, she led the unicorn through the library and into another room.

Once they had left, I sat in stupefied shock on the floor, breathing slow and hard. That had been intense—ludicrously so for just meeting a pony. What the hell had just happened? I had never experienced anything quite like that before. My heart was thumping strong and powerful within my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage at a moment’s notice. Nervous butterflies filled my churning stomach. A thrill of excitement sparked in my brain the likes of which I hadn’t felt in my entire life. What was this? I chalked it up to overloading my socialization threshold. I was not a social pony, and after having met an entire town in one day, I was feeling overwhelmed. Surely that was it. It made perfect sense.

That was when I saw pink obscure my vision.

“Heeey, Nighty! Equestria to Nighty!” Pinkie called out, waving a hoof in front of my face. “Has somepony got a case of the butterflies?”

I blinked my eyes several times in rapid succession. “…Huh?”

“You, silly!” said Pinkie with a giggle. “Your face went all weird and your mouth just kinda hung there. And when you started making up words… hehehe! What was that all about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rainbow Dash teased from the air. The wicked grin on her face didn’t spell good news for me. “I think I know what’s going on here…”

Realizing just how obvious that slip had been, I mentally chastised myself. I rid myself of the temporary paralysis incapacitating me with a shake of my head. “Nothing. It was nothing. I just don’t do well meeting lots of new ponies. It’s just me being a silly pony…”

Treble returned with a book floating in the air beside him, and Twilight soon after. I became very aware that I hadn’t moved from this spot since they’d left and hurried to rejoin Treble, lest I look like even more of an idiot frozen in place.

“All right, well, it’s getting late. We’d better be heading back,” said Treble, casting a quick look my way. The look in his eyes said it all. I was going to be in for an interrogation that would put the police to shame. “Thanks again for the book, Twi! I’ll try to have it back on time this time around.”

“I won’t hold my breath. I’ve seen your late fees before, Trouble Clef,” Twilight teased and gave me a smile and a wave as we headed for the door. “Thanks for stopping by! It was very nice meeting you, Night Writer!”

I gave her my best, most inconspicuous smile back and returned her gesture. “Likewise, Miss Sparkle— Twilight, sorry! I’ll, uh… I’ll be back later… or tomorrow… or some time… or, uh, well… bye!”

I could feel the inferno burn beneath my cheeks while I tried my hardest not to imagine how much of a klutz I must have looked like. This is why I kept to myself. I followed Treble back down the path towards his home. That was when I heard him snicker beside me, but didn’t register it until I felt a forceful nudge at my shoulder. He was really starting to get on my nerves with the physical attention.

“Huh? Uh, what?” I snapped back to the real world. The smirk on Treble’s muzzle couldn’t have been any more accusatory if he were a cop and I was on Canterlot’s Most Wanted list. “…What?”

“’What’? Really?” He sniggered again and motioned with his head back to the library. “What was all that about? I’ve never seen you act like that before!”

I felt my cheeks burn for the umpteenth time today, my ears pinning to my head while the embarrassment clutched at my insides. “I, uh, it’s nothing…”

Treble Clef could not have given a more disbelieving look if he tried. “Uh-huh… yeah, okay. I know that’s a load of bull.”

I flinched inwardly. I knew my lie had been weak, but at the moment, my mind wasn’t quite working on my side anymore. In fact, it wasn’t even working anymore. It was filled with butterflies and books and the burning flush under my face. “It’s nothing, really. I think I’m just tired from meeting so many new ponies.”

Treble still didn’t look convinced. “Come on, Nighty, even that’s a stretch for a storyteller like you.”

“No, seriously. You know I don’t do socializing much anymore.”

“You’re lyyyying.”

“I’m not lying!”

“You’re totally lying!”

“Well, I’d like to see you react any differently if you were dragged around all day doing something you hate, meeting all sorts of bakers and teachers and apple ponies and being shoved into cute librarians,” I remarked much more defensively than I meant to sound. “I swear, it’s like you conspired to completely throw me out of my comfort zone as fast as you could!”

“No, I swear, none of this was planned. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it’d be that bad for you.” That was when I saw Treble raise a brow. “So Twilight’s cute, is she?”

I opened my mouth to retort and realized just what I had said. Crap… The Freudian slip had screwed me. All at once, the heat under my skin seemed to turn into a blazing wildfire. Treble gave a raucous laugh, no doubt at my chagrin.

“Awwwww, Nighty’s got a crush!” he sang out with exuberant glee.

“Shh! No I don’t,” I refuted much too fast to be convincing. I ducked my head a little. “I just… Ugh! So she took me off guard. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t even know if I like her at all. I don’t know anything about her, or anypony here! I don’t have any feelings on the matter at all. I’m completely apathetic to her and Ponyville.”

“Sounds to me like you do!”

“No, I don’t! I can’t. And I won’t. End of story.”

Treble Clef’s good humor died on the spot. He gave me a sympathetic stare that stung to the core. I knew what he was thinking behind those sad eyes. He knew what was going on. He knew the hurt better than anypony else.

“Always on guard, huh, pal?”

I just gave a short, sharp nod of my head. My eyes darkened. “Romance is good for nothing.”

Treble cocked his head and asked, “Even if it means making life better?”

“It could also make it much worse…”

“You won’t know till you try.”

“I’m not trying anything.”

“Why not?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t think of an acceptable one. I simply kept my head low and eyes straight ahead at the ground in front of my hooves as we walked. Treble gave a soft sigh and stared up at the darkening sky. The first few traces of stars could be seen dotting the shadowy blue heavens overhead, signaling the coming night.

“You know, I think I’m getting an idea for a song,” he said after a moment.

I rolled my eyes and gave a quiet scoff. “If it’s about me, I really don’t want to hear it right now…”

“Maybe I’ll write a whole album based on you being so uptight and reserved. Seriously, when did my lively, passionate friend become such an introvert?”

“When I got a reality check…”

“Oh yeah, I’m totally feeling a song coming on.”

Treble began to hum a soft tune under his breath, still sending smirks my way. I groaned and rolled my eyes again. I knew Treble wasn’t going to let this go any time soon. Between him and everything else, this was shaping up to be a very long trip.

In the quiet of the night, I sat silent and pensive at my workspace, candlelight casting the desk in a warm glow. It also sprawled long, dark shadows in every direction that seemed to loom like shades around me. My tired eyes stared fixated down at the blank sheet of paper in front of my nose. Despite my most sincere attempts, nothing came to me.

How long had I been at this now? An hour? Two? I glanced up at the clock on the wall and realized it had been four. It was two thirty in the morning and I didn’t feel inspired, just exhausted. As it had been for most of my life now, insomnia plagued me to no end. Where the night had been my muse once upon a time, it now only served as a grim reminder of what I was lacking and left me alone with my demons in an endless self-destructive cycle.

I tapped the quill against the paper, watching the ink splatter across its surface. Long, dark splotches pooled together into miniature lakes of liquid black on the previously unmarred sheet. I could swear I almost heard it mocking me, laughing at my inability to put it to its intended purpose.

I slammed the quill down on the desk with a frustrated groan and buried my face in my hooves. While I hadn’t expected much from the first few nights in Ponyville, I had at least hoped that maybe the open air and tranquil lifestyle would give me an inkling of a brainstorm. It turned out I was just as hopelessly stuck as I was back in Canterlot.

“What is this? You call this writing?”

“You can’t hope to make anything of yourself with something like this!”

“Why don’t you actually do something useful instead of throwing your life away?”

My eyes squeezed shut tight, trying to drown out the voices in my head. I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood. A cold tremor ran through my body, rocking me straight through to the core. I could see my place back in Canterlot behind my eyelids. I was back on that cold day. It was dark, and the sound of rain falling outside seemed to put me back into a trance. My heart ached as I unwittingly dredged the memory from the depths of my mind.

I lost it. With a cry of distress and irritation, I brought my hoof across the desk, sending the papers scattering through the air like a flurry of leaves falling from their branches. I heard the quill rapping against the floor as it made contact, ending up somewhere out of sight. I couldn’t bear to look at the tools of my trade when all they did was taunt me. I rose from the chair and paced around the room. I felt anxious, like an animal trapped in a cage that I just could not escape from. Celestia knew it wasn’t for lack of trying.

I gave a harsh snort, thankful that Treble Clef’s bedroom was at the other end of the hall. I would have felt terrible if my outbursts had disturbed him. I should have better control of myself. Lock it all away and feel nothing. Let nopony in, and nopony can hurt you. And as it had been for a long time, there was just me. I was left to my own devices in the ungodly hours of the morning. The room that had first felt comfortable and cozy had become oppressive in my vexed state. I had to get past this. There was no other answer and no more excuses. I trotted over to the window and pushed it open, letting some cool air into the stuffy room.

I took a deep breath and held it in until it hurt, trying to identify all the scents on the breeze before my lungs gave out. Apples, wildflowers, and the faint scent of moist grass greeted my nose. It was a far cry to the smell of the city I had grown used to in Canterlot. I released the captured breath slowly past my lips, hoping some of the tension would slip away with it. The night greeted me with sparse streetlights providing the only illumination across the sleepy town.

It had not even occurred to me before that I could see the library from my bedroom window. Treble Clef’s house faced down one of Ponyville’s few larger streets. It just so happened to lead right to the tall oak tree. I could see its silhouette clear in the iridescent light of the moon and the street lamps. The inside was dark, not much of a surprise at this hour.

I leaned on the windowsill for longer than I could recount, staring out across the way at the library while my thoughts ran rampant. My eyes only ever shifted from it to glance up at the starry sky above my head. I never got to see the heavens quite so clearly as I could now. For all the damning I had unjustly bestowed on this town, Ponyville just continued to surprise me. It was different—a good kind of different, I think.

My thoughts threatened to drift back into dangerous territory. I forced them back with another snort. What was I doing? Feelings were dangerous. They did more harm than good. Hadn’t I learned my damn lesson the first time around? Apparently not. The irony was a bittersweet kind of humor. I must have been an idiot…

But for all my mental jarring, my brain still wandered back—back to the shelves of musty old textbooks, the impeccable stacks of fiction, and the mulberry mare that reigned over them all like a princess in her kingdom. Why did she leave such a lasting impression on me? That other pony, Applejack, she had been just as friendly, and Pinkie Pie took the cake when it came to dazzling first impressions. I could recall at least a dozen others that had greeted me with smiles and accepting warmth. So why did Twilight Sparkle haunt my mind like a ghost in the middle of Luna’s nights?

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to fraternize with these ponies. I had gone out of my way to isolate myself before I had even gotten here. Solitude affords no ill company, after all. That had been my mantra for longer than I cared to recount. It was a legitimate strategy. The more alone I was, the safer I could keep myself. But the more forlorn I became, the less and less my ideas seemed to flow. Like a river drying up in a heat wave, I could feel myself burning out.

I threw myself away from the window with a groan of displeasure and collapsed onto the bed. The soft sheets and bouncy mattress greeted my body. Once I had stopped bouncing in place, I settled into staring up at the ceiling. My eyes traced the lines in the wood overhead while more feelings of self-loathing flittered through me. I couldn’t go on like this. If I couldn’t come up with ideas on my own, I’d have to spark them from some other outlet.

The library was the first thing to spring to mind. Books were a great wealth of knowledge and inspiration. I had oft-taken some of my better ideas from referencing other great authors. Perhaps I could find the match that would ignite something in me. Maybe Twilight would have some ideas on where to start…

No! Stop! Time out!

I shot up like a bullet and made a violent shake of my head to rid the smiling mare’s face from my mind by force. No! No, I wouldn’t do this. My head hit the pillows again with a soft thud, but try as I might, the library and its librarian remained on the periphery of my imagination, teasing my curiosity all the way through the gamut of emotions from annoyance to intrigue to exhaustion. It wasn’t long before I felt the warm embrace of sleep tugging at the corners of my brain, lulling me into an uneasy relaxation.

I still didn’t know how I should have been taking any of this. But as I slipped gently out of consciousness, it didn’t matter. That library was the only thing that lingered on the fringes of my restless mind.