Author's Note
Quick Note: Don't expect a work of art or anything. I wrote this in a few spare minutes when I really felt like going along this idea. Hey, even if it's not that great it was hella fun to write!
Words in Limbo
The delicate and ever-so-quiet sound of the nearby stream was the only thing in earshot, a soft melody that she wished had never existed. How was she to hear the sounds of her pursuers if there was any sound at all! Ahuizotl was a devastatingly cunning beast, and nearly undetectable. He would appear from the shadows, silent as the night itself, until he was right behind you.
Daring took a moment to brace herself against a nearby tree, drawing in staggered and rasping breaths as the tolls of her injuries started to become apparent. Was this the end? she thought, Can I run any further?
A weight shifted in her backpack. An idol. One of the most powerful in the world. The Talisman of Light. Should it fall into Ahuizotl’s greasy paws, there would be no saving the world, and the land would fall into darkness. Ahuizotl would win.
With that in mind, Daring squared her shoulders and ran. Her wings hung loosely by her sides, threatening to catch in low hanging tree branches and the closely-knit bushes that blocked her way. She knew that the chances of her escaping were slim to nil, but she had no choice but to succeed.
Light dimly filtered through the canopy above her, the overwhelming heat and humidity once again becoming painfully apparent. Blow flies and mosquitoes lazily flew circles around her head, filling the air with a heady melody of dull buzzes. An odd bird or two would take off as she stumbled through the bushes, causing such a racket that it was a complete surprise that Ahuizotl hadn’t already found her and skinned her alive.
A dull roaring was the only signal she had before she shot out of the treeling and straight into the crumbling bank of the raging river that had been fed by all of the many small tributaries that ran through the labyrinthine jungle. The daring adventurer tried her hardest to backpedal, but the river bank, weakened by countless years of being bombarded by rapids, gave way under her sudden disturbance.
Daring fell, gasping, into the river. Rocks flew by her head with barely a hoof to spare. She knew that she had to avoid hitting anything, as another injury in her current state would make her go under.
And that would be death, no questions about it.
All of a sudden she was in the clear, and the rapids were past. Now it was just clear sailing. The river widened and the stream calmed. Rocks were nowhere to be found.
That wasn’t a good thing. Barely one hundred hooves in front of her the river suddenly disappeared, falling off the edge of the world.
A waterfall.
Good news, if she had read her maps correctly, then she was going the right way.
Bad news? This fall was certain death.
The river cared not for her predicament, and pulled her inevitably towards her doom. She started paddling desperately towards the shores, but the current was too strong.
Daring Do saw something in front of her, a log that stretched almost the whole way across the river, with one end firmly planted in the river bank at one end. It was hanging just above her head level, and coming fast.
The avid adventurer shot her hooves up and kicked herself out of the water just enough to gain purchase on the wet, rotting wood. Some of the bark threatened to come off in her grasp, but she clung on for dear life, feeling the tug of the water as it started to dip downwards against her haunches. She was only a few metres away from the abyss.
She steadied her breathing, securing her purchase slightly more, before starting to shimmy towards the bank. Slowly but steadily she was approaching the shore. Only a few more seconds…
“Hello, Daring Do. Or should I say, Desperate Do?”
Ahuzotl. The cause of her problems. he was chuckling madly at his own terrible joke, his motley crew of cats all standing alongside him.
Well, them and that one undergrown puffball of a housecat.
“What do you want Ahuizotl! Here to try and finish me off?!” Daring shouted at her nemesis. “If you think you’ll ever get the Talisman, think again. I’d DIE before I’d ever give it to the likes of you!”
“Oh, how right you are, my dear pegasus,” Ahuizotl said condescendingly. “You will die. But I’ll take that little trinket anyway. The world will be mine, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”
Daring’s eyes narrowed. “I can always stop you.” Without waiting for a response, she let go of the log, letting the river carry her off. She heard Ahuizotl scream out in anger behind her, and felt his tail whip by her head, but he was too late. The waterfall took her, and she was gone.
Down…
Down…
“DAMMIT!”
I quickly crumpled up the piece of paper I had been working on, screwing up the last few hours of careful wording and expressions. My trashcan made a small ding! sound as the paper ball rebounded off its edge. I might have made a small comment about how good of a shot that was, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was still angry.
The reason for this anger? The world that I was trying to construct. For the longest time the wording of this piece had been gnawing at my mind. No, wait, that wasn’t it. It was more… the way in which it happened. I couldn’t just end the book on a note like this. I couldn’t even put this into the story normally. I just…
I knew it. I knew just what I wanted to write, I just couldn't. The ideas and the stories that swam around my head, the ones that sat behind my eyes and desperately tried to emerge…
They just…
Floundered.
It frustrated me to no end.
With a sigh, I arose from my bench and brushed my long, unkempt mane out of my eyes. I quickly made my way to one corner of my small apartment and turned on the small music player that sat there. It still didn’t drown out the voices in my head, but that was the curse I was forced to live with.
I just wanted to put these stories down on the paper so badly. I wanted to share with others the tales and fantasies that I could spin so very easily, yet could not translate. I could feel the characters talking to themselves inside my head, their voices conveying their personalities and ideals, and yet…
Another sigh. I walked back over the room towards my fridge, taking a glance inside.
Nothing.
I was really making a habit out of this sighing, wasn’t I?
I dragged myself towards the door, grabbing some saddlebags with my cutie mark on them. It was a bit of parchment with a blot of ink on it. Ink Spill. A fitting name for me, really. The cursed writer that can never write properly. Or at least, that was how I thought of myself. The one who put the writing on the paper, even if it wasn’t beautiful.
Taking one last glance at the writing corner of my small sty, all littered with old crumpled bits of parchment lying around, with half-finished drafts for ideas that never made it off the ground giving the area a slightly depressing atmosphere.
I needed fresh air anyway. Or at least, that was what I told myself.
Outside it was cheerful and bright, a perfect sunny day. I sometimes contemplated just how the weather might differ, simply depending on the wording. I contemplated a lot of wording. It was my job, after all. I was just bad at it.
In my mind, I was already writing.
The sun, I would begin, was sitting in the sky. Hovering, as if suspended by the strings of ethereal puppeteers. A solitary orb, unconstrained by such things as gravity and common sense as it rose into the sky and set each night. It was a stark contrast to the startlingly blue and empty sky. The occasional birdsong flitted through the air, mingling with the sounds of ponies as they went about their work.
Or maybe I would make this seem evil, unnatural. Maybe I could do something like…
Overbearing, blinding, the lord of incineration. A deep yellow eye that stared down at the meagre excuses for life that went about their business. Its rays beat down on innocent ponies, a stifling heat that made ponies run for cover, or throw themselves in water for fear of heatstroke. The dust during this time of heat was cloying, dry as could be. It kicked up underhoof, catching itself in the mouths of the passers by. That, mixed with the claustrophobic nature of the town markets, made for something approaching Tartarus.
I shook my head. Such thoughts were not needed on a nice day like this. And besides, I would never write something like that if I could avoid it. It gave me no sense of fulfillment to write of pain and suffering, not unless the story demanded it.
It was my duty to act as the focus, the divining rod, for those tales that sat in my head. Maybe that was why I spent many sleepless nights sitting at home, staying in when the others partied. While they would forget themselves, I would lose myself to others. The ones that didn’t really exist.
Or maybe they did, in some far away universe, as I was wont to think. It gave me some sense of amusement to make myself believe that these stories were real, that someone, somewhere might actually be affected by something that I wrote.
Maybe I was simply a story, a jumble of letters on a page that some creature had thrown together in its spare time. Then again, who would read anything about a down-on-her luck author that could barely make rent each month. That doesn’t really seem like the pinnacle of fine reading.
Seems rather stupid to me.
Regardless, it gave me a sense of accomplishment. That was the excuse I gave myself while I drove my head into a wall while trying to write. I had to make it up to the characters, or else they would be disappointed in me. I owed it to them. I was given the ability, no, the privilege of writing their lives. I had to pull through.
I had high hopes for my latest work, Daring Do. It was the first in a series that I had planned out, a series of adventures that had been playing in my head for the last few months. Daring Do and the Talisman of Light, I had called it. Maybe it would become a top seller? Maybe I would become famous!
I doubted that very highly.
I was brought out of my thoughts as I stumbled into the town markets, the heady scents of fresh produce weaving itself into my mind. My stomach grumbled, reminding me of just how hungry I was. Had I forgot to eat last night? For that matter, when was the last time I ate? I really needed to stop forgetting such simple things.
“Hello there, Ms Spill! Fancy any carrots today?” came a call from nearby. I turned to see Carrot Top, the local carrot expert if there was such a thing, beaming at me. I made my way towards her, beckoned forth by her hoof.
“It’s nice to see you out and about today! I haven’t seen you for the last week or so! Have you been doing well?” Carrot asked me curiously, leaning over the counter slightly.
“I’ve been… fine Carrot. Just writing, as usual,” I replied slowly.
“Oooh, new story perhaps?”
“Yeah, it’s a relatively new idea,” I said cautiously.
“Sooo…” Carrot said slyly.
“So what?”
“What’s it about?” she said brightly, giving me a smile.
“Oh. It’s nothing special really. Just an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a while.”
“Come on, you know that I like hearing about what you have to say. Stop being so… critical. You write great stuff!” she said cheerfully.
“If you say so,” I replied doubtfully. I shook my head. “Anyway, I was looking for some supplies, I’m fresh out of… well, just about everything really.”
“Hmm… well it’s normally five bits per bag, but I think I can narrow that down to about three for you. Considering how often you come around here,” Carrot offered.
“You’d be willing to do that for me?” I asked, slightly amazed.
“...It’s really not that bit of a deal darling. Besides, it’s the least I can do for a regular,” Carrot said, chuckling slightly.
I accepted her offer with gusto - Celestia knows that my saddlebags have been feeling awfully light lately - and made my way around the market gathering the necessary supplies to simply survive.
I was ready to go home. Then I walked past the library, and any hopes of me doing anything productive for the next few hours vanished.
The door slammed shut behind me quite loudly as I rushed inside. I needed some time to relax, and losing myself in a book would be the best way to do that. I didn’t bother telling anyone I was here, the library was one of the places that I visited quite regularly. More than once ponies hadn’t even realised that I was there.
I made my way to the fiction section and pulled a few books off the walls, making mental notes of where they last sat so that I could find them later. I made my way to the most comfy looking corner I could find and just read.
And read.
And read.
It didn’t really matter what. Some books I would only make about half way through before giving up on them, their tales losing their interest or the characters becoming stale. Whatever it was, I would place them down sadly before moving to the next.
My mind was filled with ideas of chivalry, deceit, love, sadness, adventures and ballads. Sometimes I would be placed into a world of vastly different ideas, a huge landmass and a whole dictionary worth of lore to explore. Sometimes I would simply be looking into the life of someone going about their day.
Either way, I could lose myself to the story. I drifted out of the real world and immersed myself in another. My everyday stresses and fears were given the backseat, at least for a while. Some stories I would devour hungrily, only to find myself wanting more. Sometimes I would even write sequels and more in my head, making up the story for myself.
And, more often than not, I would find myself wanting to create. I needed to make something of my own. I had tried countless times, and yet each time I had been denied by the masses, or at least the editors. The reason? My tales did not fit their interests. Rather than being open minded, these ponies would pick the stories that they thought would sell, rather than the ones that would inspire and alter the minds of ponies.
“Ink? Ink Spill? When did you get here?”
I flinched back in surprise, the book that I had held in my telekinesis dropping to the floor. The librarian, none other than the famed Twilight Sparkle, was watching me with subdued interest. I had garnered a friendship with her after the first few times she had seen me come into the library and pick up a book.
To be honest, the first time I did it she was rather taken by surprise and almost tried to kick me out, before I reminded her that it was a public library. Maybe it was because she lived here that she thought of it as hers.
Lucky mare.
“Oh, just reading,” I said after gathering my thoughts. “I wanted to check a few new releases.
“A few,” Twilight said dubiously, eyeing the huge pile of amassed books that surrounded me. “That doesn’t look like a few.”
“Oh. I must have gotten slightly carried away…” I said softly, my face starting to heat up. “I really wanted to spend a little time reading is all.”
‘Oh,” Twilight said. “Okay then.”
A quite awkward silence settled on the room, both of us looking for something to say. Finally, Twilight broke the tension. “Are you… working on anything at the moment? You know that I love reading your works.”
Oh. That. Twilight seemed to be the only one that liked to read the small things that I thought of, even the ones that were terrible.
“Yeah, I’m working on something at the moment. It’s an adventure.”
“Oh?” Twilight asked, her interest apparently rising. “You’ll have to let me have a look. Would you mind bringing in a copy tomorrow? I can have a look for you if you’d like.”
To some that may have seemed callous and rather forward, arrogant even, but I knew Twilight. She only had my best interest at heart, and she had given me good feedback on countless occasions.
“Okay then, I can do that.”
**
She loved it. She absolutely love it. The wording, the premise, the ideas. She had said that it reminded her a whole lot of the local weather pegasus, Rainbow Dash. The name rang a bell, but I had never really had reason to bother myself with the weather. I spent most of my time indoors with my writing.
And now there was something that had a chance. This Daring Do. Maybe it could just be the chance that I was waiting for, the chance to do something worthwhile with my life. Ponies could see the stories that live in my head. I could share with them my imagination.
Maybe it would be like peering through a looking glass, peeking into the life of someone else. Maybe somewhere out there, there really was a Daring Do, and an Ahuzotl. Maybe she herself had written a book series in that world, and it was about her own adventures in the jungles of the world.
It seemed far fetched, but maybe, just maybe, it could exist.
So, with faith restored, I returned to my desk and continued my writing.
**
Three whole weeks.
Three whole weeks. Three weeks that Daring had been sitting in the hospital. Three whole weeks that she had been away from her job of saving the world.
And boy, was she happy about it. The feeling of having her body whole and undamaged was better than anything. Her wings had healed nicely, and the doctors had commended her on the field dressings that she had applied to them while in the jungle. They had said that without them they might have had permanent damage.
But now she was ready and raring to go. She had signed all of the necessary forms, jumped through the right hoops, and the hospital was letting her leave today. Sitting besides her bed were her saddlebags and her trusty hat, all she needed. That and the whip. Daring Do would never go anywhere without her whip.
Within the hour she was dressed and out the door, the swinging contraptions softly closing behind her.
The sun was warm, the sky was clear, and she was ready for her next adventure. Wherever that may take her.
The End.
And with that, I gently cast a drying spell and placed the parchment along with the hundreds of others that were all neatly ordered and stacked up on my bench. I placed them all together, getting a front and back cover along with some rings, and bound it together. It felt heavy.
As my last act, I picked up my pen, and as gently as I could wrote in ornate script, Daring Do and the Talisman of Light.
And then right beneath that, By Ink Spill.
In my hooves sat a new world, all because of my efforts in creating it. I let out a sigh, this time of relief, and sat back. But the story wasn’t over. I knew that. There was still so much that I could tell others. So much that I wanted to tell others. This was simply the beginning. I would do my best to keep the story of not only Daring Do, but any other pony - or being - that needed my help putting them into life, alive.
I owed it to them.
