Pen On Paper

Dreams of dark demigods and merciless marauders were not going to keep me from doing what I had come here for, I was determined to create the magnum opus to get me recognised in the literary world.

I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop to see what I had already jotted down; “Dusk had heard legends of the Caster’s Blade for years, the legend had taken his young mind to the point of actually believing in and looking for a fairy tale. Dusk was not crazy like everyone had thought, he knew his efforts were not in vain, he had tracked the blades location down to a cave in Saddle Arabia, one that was forgotten by Equestria for ages. The blade was said to look like that of metal earth, layers of various strong metals forged into a sword so strong it was said to make even Celestia herself cower in fear.”

“So far so good” I thought to myself, half mindedly thinking of how his character should be laid out. One of my strengths as a writer was developing characters. Actually following a plot and not letting everything fall into format hell, was not.

“As Dusk flew to Saddle Arabia he had to admire the land, it was as if a long lost great artist had taken his or her brush and exacted their craft on the Equestria itself, every mountain to every lake seemed too perfect to be crafted by rough nature as opposed to the exactness of ponykind.”

By the end of this small writing session I had filled the first chapter of character traits and bazaars, I held a personal regard of establishing text as nothing more than filler wrapped in an air of Shakespearean text, I still have flashbacks to the ungodly boredom that is Huckleberry Filly. The idea of whitewashing a fence for fun escapes me, not to mention that the author was three times as pretentious as myself.

I again laid down on my bed and debated retreating to my sheets a thought crossed through my mind, what about the party? I’d been so busy writing that I’d neglected to come up with an excuse as to why I can’t be there. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the ponies around here, it was just that they were a cult like level of nice and I came from an orphanage where it wasn’t out of the ordinary for me to not have one conversation for weeks at a time.

“Knock Knock!” I heard a familiar high pitched voice joyfully screech from the other side of my door. The voices owner was confirmed when I opened the door to see a pink mare on the other side.

“Hey, what do you need?” I asked, trying to make the conversation as short as possible.

“It’s your party!” She yelled excitedly, oblivious to my disinterest.

This didn’t make sense, it had only been a few days, how could somepony plan a large party in that time? Pinkie didn’t seem like the type to skimp out on parties, they seemed to be her main character trait.

“I’ve only been here for a few days, how did you already plan a party?”

“Magic, friendship, various other writing cliches”

“I see” I said, not really seeing a way out of this. I started to politely object to going but was quickly cut off.

“Follow me!” She squealed before quite literally hopping away. I had no choice but to follow her.