A book by Discord

            To say that my head “hurt” was a severe understatement. Someone had pounded a wedge into my skull, poured salt into the wound, and then wreathed my whole cranium in fire.

                “Why do they have to hit you in the head,” I moaned out loud.

                A voice chimed in, more than happy to add his abrasive remarks to my already throbbing headache.

“According to this book, ‘A Guide To Writing Your Own Adventure’, head wounds, and subsequent blackouts, are a tool used by the author to skip ahead to more interesting parts of a story. They are to be used liberally, and whenever convenient.”

                “I am going to kill the author of that book!”

“My, my, you actually sound serous. Should I be applying for witness protection?”

                “You wrote that book?”

“The one and only,” chimed Discord.

                “Discord, if I ever get my hands of you-”

“What could you possibly do to an immortal god of chaos?

                I supplied him with my most vile thoughts.

                There was a long pause.

“So you’ll take my skull and push it...oh! I would have never thought of that position. I feel mildly aroused.”

                I quickly took those thoughts and barricaded them away in my mind, complete with several deadbolts and miles of heavy chain.

“Oh don't be like that, you’re ruining all the fun; and just when I thought we had found something we could mutually agree upon.”

                “Discord, let’s just get this stupid story of yours done so I can get you out of my head.”

“Fine, have it your way.”

                I heard the rustling of paper against paper.

“Ah, here we are: Our brave hero, captured by bandits, must escape before they figure out that he has no home country and no pony willing to pay his ransom.”

                “Is that it?”

“That’s the entire plot for this section. Best get a move on.”

                I opened my eyes, and almost instantly shut them again. The world I had just witnessed had been revolving, tumbling, and doing its utmost to imitate a Ping-Pong ball.

                “Make it stop,” I pleaded.

“Just one moment,” sang Discord and there was a poof sound right in front of me. Then two points of pressure were placed against my skull and clicking noises ensued. I reluctantly opened my eyes.

                Discord was standing before me, twisting two dials implanted on my forehead. He was staring into my eyes, he brow furled in concentration. Slowly, the room stopped swimming and returned to one, steady image.

                “All better,” he said, stepping back and examining his handy work. He looked over me critically. “There’s something I’m forgetting...ah, yes! You’re escape.” He removed the hood from my horn. “There, now you have all the tools you need to blast those silly bandits and continue your journey.”

                He snapped his fingers and vanished.

                With Discord gone, I was now alone in the room. Cold stone formed a rough, circular shape. The only break came in the form of a plain wooden door. A single candle in a carved niche provided the only light.

                I kicked at my bonds but the rope held firm.

                Maybe I could use my horn like a file and cut through by bonds? I grunted with the effort, first trying to bring my horn down low enough and then my hooves up to meet it. Try as I might, I just couldn’t get the two to touch.

“Silly pony,” said Discord and I could almost see his patronizing smirk. “Use your magic and cut the rope.”

                “I don’t have any magic.”

                “Tut-tut, I’ll have to fix.” I heard the shuffling of many documents, followed by several heavy objects being carelessly dumped on the floor.

                “Here we are, ‘Standard Book Of Spell.” Discord was filling my head with cheerful humming as he leafed through the pages.

                The door creaked open and in walked a very familiar Earth Pony. His mask was gone, revealing kind face and a dull, brown coat. He carried a bowl of soup in his mouth.

                He dropped the bowl. The earthen ware shattered and splashed hot soup across the floor.

                “His horn cover is off,” bellowed the pony. “The prisoner is escaping.”

                “Discord,” I shouted, bring the Draconequus to the situation at hand.

“Try this one out for size.”

                A throbbing buzz surged through my horn. Its tip glowed brilliantly, and then…

                The earth pony exploded into confetti and pink streamers.

                “Good job, now find a spell to cut these ropes.”

                Discord obliged. The knowledge instantly entered my mind. My horn glowed and the ropes parted. I rolled to my feet.

                I poked my head out the door, expecting to be accosted by several angry ponies. Only an empty stone hallway greeted me. I trotted out a little further.

                A bandit leapt from the shadows, brandishing a sword.

                I blasted him into confetti.

I started up the hallway and nearly collided with three more bandits coming from the opposite direction. I pointed my horn at each in turn. The result were gratifying.

         The hallway angled sharply up and I emerged into a large room. Daylight filtered in fromthe exit. Only two ponies stood before me and freedom.

                They charged, shouting as they went, swords held in their mouths.

                I effortlessly turned the first one into confetti and pointed my horn at the second.

“I’m beginning to think that spell is a little over powered. You’re supposed to use tactics and strategy, not just spam the most powerful one you know. I’ll find something more appropriate.”

                The spell vanished from my mind.

                “Discord!”

                The pony was still charging. He was nearly on top of me.

“Let’s start you out with a teleportation spell.”

       The knowledge filled my head. My horn glowed. The bandit vanished and appeared next to the entrance.

                He was still charging towards me.

                I cast the spell again. He appeared once more at the entrance. He continued to charge. I teleported him right back to the entrance. After the fifth repeat, the bandit slowed and finally stopped. He stared at me from across the cave. The sounds of his breathing heavily fill the room. He spat out the sword.

                “That does it. I’m not getting paid enough for this.” He turned and left. Once outside the cave, I heard him shout, “Discord! I want the bits you promised me.”

                I stood there, flabbergasted, my mouth hanging open before I notice and subsequently shut it.

                “You paid them to kidnap me?” I ground my teeth in barely suppressed rage.

“Every story needs to have its plot twists of danger and excitement. Evil ponies are hard to come by.”

“That does it! I am not moving from this spot until we come to an agreement on the ethical treatment of your characters!”

“But the story must go on.”

                “I am not moving from this stop!” I repeated

“Fine, have it your way.”

                There was a long pause, followed by several sounds of him clearing his throat.

“And the cave, weakened by the explosions of our hero’s daring escape, began to collapse”.

                “There weren't any explosions.”

“Oh?”

Something detonated deep inside the cave. The ground heaved beneath my hooves. The ceiling came alive with explosive, violently cracking. Large boulders plummeted towards my position.

         I ran for the exit, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Discord! I hate you Oh so much!”