There are two types of people in this world; those who write stories, and those who read them.
Well, of course there is an exclusion. I write stories and read them, so am I the 1%?
…Getting off topic here.
Anyway, what I meant to say is that some people are born to write. You would hope that you were a person who read stories instead of writing them, because essentially it means less work.
Writing stories is hard, and as a reader, you would only see the end product. You wouldn't have to suffer the pains and struggles of creating your own adventure. You would only see the fruits of other peoples labour, and not have to do any actual work.
Unfortunately, there is no choice.
Call it divine intervention if you wish, but there's no getting away from the fact that you don't have an option in the matter. Whatever you do or don't, it doesn't change a thing. Some may say that it's entirely your decision, but I call bullshit.
Sure, you might think that authors can stop writing completely. Just simply put the pen/laptop/quill (whatever the hell others use) down forever, and resign. Many have been known to give up, but many more have been known to return.
Some may be sceptical about their writing abilities. Are they meant to write? Is it physically possible for them to create stories? How are they meant to find out?
I was that person a couple of days back - not knowing know if I was going to have a spiritual experience dictating my destiny or just a simple message. Usually, I'm not a superstitious person, but something told me this day I was born to be a writer.
After mulling it over for the last two days, I've finally come to that conclusion. It is the only logical explanation. I just have that...unexplained, compelling need to write, to share my ideas with a community willing to listen and criticise.
Now, my dear Watson, the question changes from why to what.
What the hell should I write about!?
There's a million different things revolving about my head every second, so how do I know what to create? Many authors have made ridiculous amounts of money creating completely new stories, so I began my quest of self-discovery.
Being a fan of My Little Pony, let us say that doors soon became open to me.
For the first time ever, I discovered FiMfiction. Numerous people writing stories about their favourite (and less favourite) characters from the TV series. All kinds of genres, ranging from horror to even sex.
Man, was I surprised.
Don't get me wrong, I loved the content. I was just surprised at the sheer amount of contribution from fans. From that point, I realised this was what I had to do. One day I would become a world-famous author, so rich that pure bars of gold will fall from my arse, but for now, I would write FiMfiction!
So here I am; sitting at my shitty, old desk with my shitty, old laptop.
I sip at my now-flat Mountain Dew as the amazing tunes of Coldplay enter my ears via my cheap earphones. I stare at the blank document in front of my eyes, willing the flashing, vertical bar to produce words.
Unbelievable. I spend three whole days contemplating this, and now I can't even think of a simple story. Looking down at the alarm clock, I see the time as being 1:25 am.
Forget what I said earlier. Sure, some people are meant to write, it's just I physically and mentally cannot.
Squeezing my head hard, I wrack my brain to think of a story I could write about.
Minutes pass.
The Coldplay song has stopped now. I visit my YouTube tab to change the song, until an idea pops into my head. I pick a random play list, not caring what song made its through my earphones.
The sounds of tapping keys bounced around my room as I ferociously made a start to my story. At least, I think they did. Judging by the speed I was typing, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Unfortunately, my earphones blocked out every sound aside from the music I was listening to.
I wrote my story. A tale of woe and misery.
A young man, fed up of the tedious days of his life, is reduced to living out his life alone. His uncaring and deceitful family have long since abandoned him, leaving him to fend for himself in such an unforgiving world. That is, until My Little Pony changes his life.
Now the vibrant colours and emotions of the idyllic world flood his mind, giving him hope for the future. He is soon changed, and becomes a more optimistic person. Soon, though, it is not enough.
Surrounded by a hateful society, it's not long until the man starts to break down. The happiness and joy once gained by his favourite programme soon disappears. Full of anguish, the young man returns home one night and bursts into tears.
He yells at his computer screen, begging the pony characters to join him in his 'world' to brighten up his miserable so-called life. After a couple minutes full of sobbing, the room is filled with an eerie smoke as a familiar voice speaks.
The young man turns to face...
I feel an impact on my shoulder.
Nothing more than a slight touch, but still a touch nonetheless.
Curious as to what touched my shoulder, I momentarily look away from my laptop screen. I take out my earphones as I turn my head to find the source of the disturbance.
The first thing I notice is the smoke settling in my room. I usually turn the light off at this time of night, so I imagined the space behind me to be pitch black. So why was it filled with colour? It sounded a lot like my...
Secondly, I notice the figure standing behind me.
I jump out of my chair in shock.
Whatever the creature was, it no higher than my waist. I could only see a faint outline of the trespasser as it stood not far from where I was now slumped. After taking a couple more steps towards me, the shape bent over in fits of coughing. However, the cough was very human, or at least fairly familiar.
I had had enough bullshit. Whatever it was, it was scaring the hell out of me.
I got up from the floor and stood up as tall as possible, in an attempt to scare my assailant away.
The figure continued coughing for a couple of seconds before trudging further through the smoke. An audible groan arose from the trespasser, before it began to talk.
“Eurgh, I hate that stuff.”
Not only did it cough like a human, but it spoke perfect English.
A mint unicorn appeared in front of me. Its vibrant, powder-blue and white mane surrounded the glowing horn atop its head. Two marks remained on either side of its body, symbolising what looked to be some kind of string instrument.
As I stared in wonder at the creature, I realised its piercing amber eyes glaring at me.
Of course, it wasn't just a 'creature'.
It was Lyra Heartstrings.
“Hey, you don't look so good.” She spoke to me again.
“You're right,” I replied. “I feel kinda funny.”
“In fact, you look like you're about to faint.”
For some reason, I did feel woozy. My head was throbbing, and I could barely hanging onto reality.
“I think you're right again.”
“Would you like me to catch you?”
“If it wouldn't be too much trouble,” I replied again. The room grew rapidly darker.
“No problem at all.”
The last thing I saw before slipping into unconsciousness was the mint unicorn charging towards me.
Darkness clouded my vision.
***************
I woke up.
Blinded by light, I shielded my eyes with my arm. As my sight grew used to the intensity, I moved my arm away to come face to face with Lyra.
With a small yelp, I retreated back to the safety of the floor.
“Hey, calm down you moron.” The unicorn spoke with a slight mocking tone.
Looking up, I realised she had quite a disdainful expression. Almost as if she was disappointed in my performance or attitude. I began to stand up, using the desk as support.
“Lyra...what the hell are you doing here?” The question popped out before I could stop myself.
Her disdainful look was quickly replaced with a disappointed one. She raised a hoof to her face and closed her eyes tight. With a small, exasperated sigh, she replied.
“Didn't you start writing a story with me in it?” I gave a quick nod before realising what she meant.
I had written Lyra into my world.
Somehow, I had managed to write a cartoon pony from a kids TV show into my real world.
I can't even begin to explain how confused I am.
How the hell did I do it!? I only wrote a small section of story, and somehow it became real! This is blowing my mind. Seriously.
While a pondered in my mind, Lyra cleared her throat rather audibly. I turned my attention to the cartoon pony standing in my room. Still can't believe it.
“So basically, as the writer, you are able to create your own adventure with me. As soon as the story is finished, however, I go back to my world. So could you hurry up and finish your story already? I've got a very important concert I need to be at.”
Finish my story? As if.
I don't even know what to write for the ending, not to mention that I would never finish it! If it meant that Lyra stayed in my world, I would just give up writing straight away!
“I know what you're thinking. Many authors have thought of that before, and it never works. There's a catch, you see. If you permanently stop writing the story, I'll just vanish. Poomph! Gone, just like that.”
Well, up to that point in my life, I've never been more heartbroken.
Here, was my favourite cartoon pony from a TV series that I adored, and she can only stay with me for so long. My whole body slumped as my realisation hit me.
Noticing this, Lyra gave a slightly sympathetic look. At least she tried, I guess.
“I've got my own life to live, and I'm sorry that it can't be in yours.”
I gave a small nod to confirm, as well as a small sniffle. I began to speak back.
“Well, I better get on with that story then.”
I headed back over to my laptop and sat down in the old chair. I pulled out a small cushion for Lyra to sit on, and began to type away. Unfortunately, the unicorn constantly looking over my shoulder was making me nervous. Feeling slightly vulnerable, I typed away a couple of sentences.
After reading the lines, Lyra raised an eyebrow at me as if she were asking “Really?”. With a sigh, she got up and went through her lines as sarcastically as she could.
“Oh my Celestia. A human. He talks too, what a surprise. How did I wind up in this world. Yada yada yada.” I gave a small giggle as she mocked me. Out of role, she talked to me normally.
“You do realise you're not the first human I've seen? I've actually met 103 humans and counting.” With another raise of her eyebrow, she resumed her sarcastic tone. “Congratulations, you're number 104.”
Whether it was meant to be funny or not, I couldn't help myself. I started to laugh, and after a while, she joined in. I offered her a sip of my Mountain Dew, to which she declined. Lyra explained that fizzy drinks always made her hiccup. Obviously, other guys before me have offered.
I got up from my chair to pick up a bag of crisps from my dingy kitchen. I then backtracked and picked up another and a glass of water for Lyra. Obviously, hooves didn't help when it came to opening crisp packets, so I had to give her a hand.
Soon, we were munching loudly in unison as I continued my story. I decided that I would eventually finish my story, but for now, I would drag it out for as long as possible.
A loud yawn emanated from behind me.
“Hey dude, do you have a bed somewhere? I'm kinda sleepy.”
With a nod, I indicated the tiny, messy bed behind her. She rolled her eyes and she made her way over. Lyra then proceeded to jump on and snuggle into the sheets.
After half an hour of writing complete crap, I decided it was bedtime for me too. In short, the main character felt he finally had a reason for living. The arrival of Lyra had greatly increased his optimism and motivation, and he would soon become a fully-functional human being again.
By now, Lyra was fast asleep. Without so much as a peep, I walked over to the other side of the bed. Since I didn't even have a couch to sleep on, I guess we would be sharing beds. Well, sharing is quite a generous term. The mint pony had taken up way over half the side of the bed.
I lifted up the sheets and squeezed my way in.
One thing was for certain, Lyra was a loud snorer. I didn't care much.
However this pony even managed to enter my world, I was just content in the knowledge that she was. I didn't know what or where this story would go, so I just decided to go with the flow.
Turning off the light beside me, I whispered a goodnight before lying my head down on the pillow. The warm breath of the unicorn repeatedly sent heat up my back as I fell asleep. I guess another story awaits tomorrow.
A/N: So, this was my first fic ever, and as you can probably see, I've gone for a confusing story. It's kind of ironic, because at the moment I am feeling the same as the character in this. Prepare for upcoming chapters. Also, Lyra says hi.
