Pen On Paper

Right then, first day in Ponyville. I, Drake the changeling, was different from the others, in addition to my grey eyes and shell I lacked the ability to change and my species signature wings. I was nothing more than a unicorn with holes in his legs. Why I was like this I don’t know, my file in the Queen Chrysalis Everfree Orphanage just states that I was recovered as an egg from a burned down hive, I was the sole survivor.

While the other stallions at the orphanage were adopted, either for their great strength, impressive flying speeds, or magnificent usage of magic I stayed, and wrote. I always had a certain knack for writing, and given that I loved science, specifically entomology, these short stories that I wrote almost always had to do with giant insects from toxic waste nests ravaging towns, mechanical stallions destroying the very ponies who had created them, creatures from space feasting on the very land they just discovered, or anything equally as fantastic and fictitious.

I got off the taxi carriage and payed the coach pony twenty two bits. This is it, Ponyville, a place I hadn’t seen for about a decade, everything seemed smaller than it did as a colt.

I started towards the house I had bought prior, a small cottage sat directly next to a clock tower, the lot was cheap and therefore within my budget.

As I walked I checked the pocket of my hoodie; my pocket knife that had fought through even the most valiant of tape and twisty ties, a small cloth sack that held all of my bits, a black fountain pen and small black notebook that had served as my outlet to foreign worlds for as long as I could remember (granted these have been replaced by a large grey laptop that was currently sitting in its cloth varying case), and a small plastic carrying case that held my pet parasprite, a little blue fellow who I had named David.

David was a lot like me in the way that his hive was destroyed and I had just happened to come across his egg, through various messed up spells I had also found out how to make his lifespan that of the average pony.

I arrived at my new home to notice that the movers had already brought my bed, chest, bookcase, desk, and singular chair, the only pieces of furniture I had ever really needed.

I sat down at my desk and took out my laptop, the machine sitting in front of me was going to put me on the map as a true author, I could finally break free of short stories and unfinished epics. I had formulated a plot based around the protagonist, a stallion seventeen years of age, coincidentally my age, named Dusk Looker who sets out into a cave system with the goal of recovering a mythic blade, his own cockieness driving him deeper into the earth, running from unimaginable horrors that not even Luna could dream up, in the end he must fight his way out with the very blade he had sought for. I had just finished the first paragraph when a bright pink mare burst through my door.

“Welcome to ponyville! I’m Pinkie Pie! I can’t wait t-”

“Why in Celestia’s name are you in my house!” I said shakingly, cutting off the overly hyper home intruder.

“What?”, she shrugged, “Usually everypony is okay with me coming into their house”

“Wait, let me get this straight, ponies are just okay with you invading their homes? Does personal space just not exist here?”

“Well, I only barge into some ponies house when I have to tell them something really important or I have to tell them about a super amazing party coming up” she said justifyingly.

“So which is it then, is Sombra back or is it some ponies birthday?” I asked, still concerned about the marauding mare who had annihilated the hinges on my door.

“Well duh, it’s your welcome party!” she said with a huge smile on her face.

“Welcome party? Sorry miss, but I don’t do parties.”

My words seemed to have an instant effect on her, it was like she had never heard of a pony who wasn’t obsessed with parties, which wasn’t much of a surprise to me as this community seemed close knit.

“You, you don’t like parties?” her voice was quiet, but I could tell this was but the eye of the storm.

Luckily she forgot about my lack of interest, and instead focused her attention on Danny, my parasprite.

“Just great! Now I have to go find a tuba”

“Don’t worry, it’s a guy, no worry of an infestation” I said, but I then noticed that she had already trotted off.