One Stormy Night

by Digital Ghost

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Slice of Life
Length: 3516

Sometimes new friends are made during a storm in one's life. Sometimes literally.

Sometimes new friends are made during a storm in one's life. Sometimes literally.

Write Idea makes a dash for it to her apartment after being caught in a heavy rain storm. She runs into a stranger as she was almost to her door, who she quickly befriended.

((Made for OC Life Stories))

Published 2015-01-11 18:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-11 18:00:02 UTC

New Friends Under the Storm

It was a particularly stormy night in Manehattan, and Write Idea, a yellowish pegasus with pink mane, was caught in the middle of it. "Oh no, I'm going to get wet again!" she cried out in dismay, watching as bucket-loads of water fell from the sky every second. She was taking shelter within her favorite cafe, but she desperately needed to get home. The weather department had warned everypony that that night was due for heavy rains and it wouldn't be clear until late afternoon the next day.

"Heavy rains my flank," she waved her hoof menacingly at the sky, "that's a full on hurricane out there!" As if to tauntingly agree with her, the sky crackled in broken streaks of light accompanied by loud booms of might with every flash, momentarily covering the city in blinding white and drowning out the sound of frenzied raindrops.

Write had to take a moment to draw panicked breaths as she shakily let go of the cafe owner, whom she had jumped and hung on to like she was a necklace. "Sorry, Brew!" she quickly said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"It's okay," Brew said with a wholesome smile, "I'm just lucky these old bones can still handle a mare hanging from my neck." He was an elderly earth stallion who not only made the best tea and coffee, but also had the best selection of snacks, which was partly the reason why Write Idea loved doing her writing and reading in the cafe. She was a budding writer who loved reading as much as she wrote, and the place was pretty serene usually, letting her do both with little to no distractions. Unfortunately, this also meant she quite easily loses track of time, which was how she was trapped in the cafe in the first place.

Although the old stallion had no qualms about letting the mare stay in the cafe until the rain eased up, Write, despite not having problems with the idea of staying in the lovely little shop—having stayed there a couple of times before because of situations that were similar to what she was stuck with—felt like she was being too much of a freeloader to Brew.

Reluctantly, she decided it was best that she make a run for it to her apartment. I can get there in a minute or two, she reasoned to herself, and I'm sure I can find some shelter to rest while going through the alley. Satisfied with her planned approach, she asked Brew for a plastic bag which she used to cover her books before tucking them in carefully in her saddlebags.

"Are you seriously going with that storm outside? I believe it didn't work well the last time you did it," Brew cautioned.

Write waved her hoof dismissively. "Oh what's a little water? And last time didn't go as planned because I didn't count on the door suddenly opening into my face, but you can bet that I've taken every door into account in my new plan."

"Fine, so long as I get to say 'I told you so' when you come back with another bruise on your face."

The mare playfully stuck her tongue out at the stallion before bolting out the door as fast as her hooves could carry her. She galloped through the street and rounded a corner into an alley, stopping as she got to the next street to look for any passing carriages. A few months ago, that was one of her oversights, but not anymore! Seeing that the road was clear, she crossed and beelined for her door. She skidded to a stop at her steps and, without looking, jumped under the canopy that kept the entrance to the building relatively dry.

A pony in a brown hooded jacket who was taking shelter there suddenly jumped to the side for dear life into the flowerbed upon seeing that the mare was about to pounce. "Oh dear, are you okay?" Write asked worriedly, although she was just as startled as the other pony.

"I-I'm okay," the other pony replied. Write offered her hoof to the pony and pulled them back up to the top of the stairs.

"I'm terribly sorry!" Write said while she helped wipe away the mud that had gotten onto them. "Please, come with me, you can shower at my place."

"Oh, there's no need to—"

"I insist!" Interrupting strongly but with a clear sense of friendliness and good intentions, she took the muddy pony, or rather, dragged them inside and guided them to her door.

Write's ears perked up when they heard the familiar squeak of the shower door's hinges. Without the jacket and all that mud, she finally got her first good look at the pony. It was a mare, a paper-white pegasus, who had a mane with two tones of light blue, one tone significantly darker than the other but still light. It somehow reminded her of the sky. She was rather adorably cute as well. Write had to fight to keep herself from tackle-hugging the other mare. Her cutie mark was something close to a blue six-pronged star, or spark.

It was one of those cutie marks that had to be expounded upon to make the connection, not unlike Write's own. Her cutie mark was a light bulb that looked like it was drawn in with a pencil. She had been mistaken for a graphical artist, a cartoonist, and even a painter, among other things before (although she wasn't half bad at drawing at all).

"I hung my jacket in there to drip dry a little. I hope that's okay, Miss...?" The mare rubbed her foreleg, undoubtedly feeling a bit shy from the dazzled look Write was giving her.

"Write Idea, but please, just call me Write," the hostess replied with a warm smile. "And don't worry about the jacket, I don't mind one bit."

"I'm Creative Spark by the way, but ponies usually call me Spark." She was still a bit shy, making eye contact with Write, but breaking it off in a second.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Write asked.

Spark shook her head. "I guess you noticed my accent? I'm actually from Canterlot."

Write gasped in delight. "I knew it! I knew you were too cute not to come from a place as grand and regal!"

"C-cute?" Spark stuttered, blinked and blushed uncontrollably, which made Write even more giddy.

"I remember the last time I was there. Canterlot is so dreamy, but I'm sure you already knew that. So what brings you to Manehattan, Spark?"

Her blushing cooled off and Spark's embarrassed smiling suddenly turned somber. "Well..." she kicked the floor lightly as she thought about what she would say. "Well... I sort of... ran..."

"Ran?" Write tilted her head, her own smile being replaced by worry. "What do you mean?"

Spark fixed her eyes on the floor, slowly turning her head away from Write. She kept still and silent, trembling slightly.

Worry was soon mixed with a little sadness when Write realized what Spark was trying to say. "You ran away from home, didn't you?" Spark sat on her haunches and slowly nodded.

"But why?"

"My brother... he... he said I was just a distraction to his work, but I was only trying to help, to give him some ideas is all. I guess I was just annoying him... He always wanted to do things his way. We... got into a fight, said some things and... he got angry and so did I... then I left." Spark started sobbing, tears running down her cheek. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't be talking about this."

"Oh you poor thing." Write approached and wrapped her forehooves around the mare in a gentle and warm embrace in an attempt to comfort the shaking mare. She stroked her hair and told her: "Don't be afraid to cry, just let it out." By the way she trembled, Write guessed that Spark was strongly affected by their fight.

As if all she was waiting for was Write's permission, Spark cried. She bawled and clung tightly to Write like she was a little scared filly holding on to her mother. She let her head drop on Write's shoulder where she continued to let her emotions leak out. Write rested her head on Spark's and rocked back and forth gently while she hummed a soft lullaby, folding her wings around her protectively as Spark pulled Write closer.

"How long have you been away from home?" Write asked, passing a cup of tea to Spark, who was resting her head on the couch. Write herself sat in a wooden chair from her desk.

"I think its been a month now."

"That's a long time. Your brother must be worried sick about you."

"I know he is, but... I just can't... I can't face him yet. I wrote him a letter a few days ago to let him know that I was sorry for the things I said. I also told him that I'll be traveling until I find someplace I belong."

"Well, at least he wouldn't be too worried about you. Do you have a place to stay?"

"No, not yet. Actually, I was going to the hotel when the rain fell." She looked out the window and saw that the weather was just as furious as it had been hours ago. She was surprised that she had been holding on to her host for such a long time, but it did lift the heavy weights on her heart, and Write didn't seem to mind. "It doesn't look like the rain's letting up. Wonder when this storm ends."

"Tomorrow afternoon." Write took a sip from her cup. "If it were to go on for longer, the city would be flooded. Just look at that, it's as if they took all the water from Neighagra and dumped it all here."

The room fell silent as the mares drank their tea at their own pace. Spark looked around the apartment. It was small but had the essentials. She could see a lot of books stacked up everywhere. Tables, chairs, even the floor had at least a dozen books at any given spot. Despite how it looked though, the books were well taken care of, not one looked neglected, not even the ones at the bottom of the farthest piles.

The more she looked around, the more she was convinced that the apartment was in a state of orderly chaos. It only seemed that things were scattered about, but a closer look told a different story. The last thing she noticed in the room was the desk behind Write. A small pile of papers, a pencil, quills, an inkwell, and a few reference books to writing was on the desk. There was also a bin under it with some balled up pieces of paper. It looked like it was all there was in there. "You're a writer?" Spark subconsciously mumbled.

"Hmm?" Write looked up with surprise on her face. When she saw what made Spark deduce that, she nodded."I am, but I'm not really a good one."

"Why?"

"I can't finish my stories, that's why. I love to write, it's my passion, but I just get stuck half way. That one's not even on the fifteenth page and I'm already running dry." Write let out a deep sigh and looked at her latest unfinished work. "I got the concept, I know how to start it so it'll get the reader's attention, how to keep them hooked, and I've followed every advice I got from those books, but it wouldn't sound right, and I scrap it and go back to where I got stuck in the first place. Its like a destructive cycle, and its making me want to go back to writing newspaper articles."

"What's wrong with writing newspaper articles?" Spark raised a brow. She thought it wasn't that bad of a job, and since writing was Write's passion, it got her confused as to why she didn't like it.

"Oh there's nothing wrong with writing the articles. Its just that I've gotten tired of it. It was fine when I first started, but my drive to write them just dried out, I suppose. And there's only so little they can show, and sometimes my articles just wasn't interesting enough." Write huffed. "Most ponies are more interested in reading about celebrities, and most newspapers feed it to them to keep subscriptions, no matter how stupid and fake the stories are, and I won't dare go down that path. Its despicable and just plain sad."

"Oh..." Spark sipped the last of her tea and placed the cup on the table. "Do you mind if I read your story?"

Write smiled in delight. "Please, be my guest." She looked at the clock and a gasp escaped her. "It's that late already? I better get you some pillows and blankets. If I can remember where I stashed them this time..."

Spark quickly waved her hooves. "Oh there's no need, I won't be staying here, I don't want to intrude."

"You're not going anywhere with that storm outside, young filly," Write scolded lightly. "Besides, its dangerous out at night, no matter what weather, and I would be dreaded to hear if you ever got hurt. No, you're staying until this storm dies down."

Spark couldn't help but smile as she watched Write disappear into her bedroom. The blue-maned mare pulled a chair and sat down in front of the desk and started reading the unfinished novel. "She wasn't joking when she said she knew how to catch the reader's attention."

The mare had already read five pages when Write returned with the pillows. "Write!" she called out, "this is so good! I'm loving the story so much!"

Write giggled at the complement. "Thank you, I appreciate you saying that" She went back to the bedroom again to fetch the blankets and Spark continued to read.

When Write returned the second time, Spark jumped at her. "I know how you can continue the story! You know how the detectives were searching that old house? What if instead of finding a magic-drained victim, they find a brainwashed one!"

"Brainwashed? How?"

"Uhm... Oh I know! Song!"

"You mean like sirens?"

"Yes! See, you already written that before any of the crimes were committed, witnesses say that they heard 'a sweet song from a phantom,' why not make sirens the culprit?"

Write looked bewildered, and it slowly chipped away at Spark's wide grin. "I'm doing it again..." Spark said to herself. "I'm sorry, Write. This is your novel, I shouldn't be butchering your ideas with mine..." She took a few steps back and rubbed her forehoof. "You probably hate me now, don't you?"

"No, Spark, you got it all wrong! I love that idea!"

"Y-you do?"

"YES!" Write jumped up and hugged the other mare. "It's brilliant! It'll be a mystery and a fantasy, two of the genres that are topping the market right now, and no doubt for a few more years to come."

"But aren't sirens recorded in history?"

Write put a hoof to her chin. "Now that you mention it, I think I remember my teacher telling us that when I was a little filly. I guess this won't be a fantasy then."

"What would it be called though? Myth?"

"I'm not really sure." They thought about it for a length of time, but when they couldn't come up with anything better, they decided it'll simply be a mystery fiction until they thought of a better tag.

"I better write this down!" Write said, wasting no time and instantly started writing on her desk.

Spark kicked the floor with uncertainty and trotted over to the couch. Write was busy now, so what else could she do but sleep? Though after getting so excited reading Write's work, that would have proved to be difficult.

"Spark, sweetie?" Write called.

"Y-yes?" Spark replied with a flush of pink on her cheeks.

"Would you mind pulling a chair and sitting here with me? I'd like you to be my co-author. Is that okay with you?"

"Really? You mean it?" Spark jumped up in excitement.

"Of course, after all, you're the one who got this idea rolling again. Its only fair that you get to give inputs when I get stuck again."

"Don't you mean 'if' you get stuck?"

"I definitely mean 'when' I get stuck."

Spark giggled and trotted to Write's side, dragging a chair. "Then I'll be happy to be your co-author."

A ray of sunshine was what awoke Write, but the first thing she saw was Spark, sleeping soundly mere inches away from her face. She could feel the warmth of her every breath. Write grew a smile, contemplating how cute the white mare was when she slept. She pushed herself from the desk to stretch, almost knocking over the pile they had worked on.

Fifty pages, they made fifty pages before the two of them gave in to the call of the night. It was the most fun Write had ever had writing. Not just because everything went so smoothly, but also because she enjoyed the company of the still-sleeping mare. Spark had a knack of taking just about anything and turning it into something completely different. She does justice to her name.

Write felt her empty stomach making complaints, and she didn't doubt that Spark would feel the same hunger when she awoke. She went into the kitchen and prepared something for the both of them to eat. Write didn't have much, but she always shared what she could. She put together a few dishes consisting of oats, hay, and daisy sandwiches. She also prepared two small bowls of candy, one was filled with sweets, the other with salt candy.

Spark stumbled into the kitchen just when Write set the plates down. "Good afternoon, Spark." Write greeted with a smile.

"Good afterno—wait, it's already the afternoon?" Spark looked out the window and saw the clear skies with the setting sun just over the building across the street. "So it is..."

"Please, have a seat Spark. You must be starving. I know I am."

"I am a bit hungry. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Spark was smiling uncontrollably as she ate, and it made Write happy that her guest was content with what she could offer.

"Ooh, what's this?"

"That's salt candy. I keep them around as a light snack, especially for those summer cravings."

"Interesting. Is it all salt?"

"Nope. It has most of the essential minerals for a healthy body, plus you won't have to worry about ants if you forget it somewhere."

"Can I try some?"

"Of course, of course, help yourself."

Spark took one and flicked it into her mouth and began chewing, only to spit it all out on her plate. "Sorry! I'm so sorry! It was so salty, it was burning, I didn't know what else to do."

Write stifled her laughter and passed a glass of orange juice to Spark. "Is that how you eat candy? You're supposed to suck on it, let it slowly melt." She took a piece of the candy and flicked it in her mouth.

Spark took another one, this time letting it roll around in her mouth. "You're right, it isn't that salty now. That, or I just killed my taste buds."

When they finished eating, Spark went to fetch her jacket before heading for the door. "I guess this is goodbye." She turned to Write and waved. However she didn't want to go. She had so much fun there, even if all she did was watch Write work with her story. But she knew Write had things to do other than entertain her.

Write rubbed her hoof. "Yeah... I guess so. T-take care, Spark."

"You too, Write." She turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"Spark, wait!"

Spark's heart almost jumped then. "Yes, Write?" She turned around and saw Write being somewhat bashful.

"You don't have a place to stay in, right?"

"No, not yet."

"Would you... would it be okay... I was wondering... would you consider staying with me for a while? Until you find a place to stay in, of course. Just a temporary living space, you know."

Spark grinned. "You'll let me stay here?"

"Sure, if you want to."

Spark practically tackled Write and hugged her tight. "I'll gladly stay!" she half screamed in excitement. Shocked and embarrassed of her own reaction, she quickly pulled away and tried to look composed. "Sorry..."

Write giggled. "Did I ever say you were cute?"

Author's Note

Write Idea and Creative Spark are the group mascots for the OC Life Stories group, and this story was created for a contest (of which one of the prizes was a virtual backrub, so how could I say no?). ~~Didn't really aim for a romance fic, but it just turned out like that.~~ (Untagged romance)

Hope you enjoyed!