Short Stories

I stare at my computer screen.

Empty.

Like me.

My family... gone. My friends... gone.

I am alone.

I look back to the screen. There is writing now.

I don't remember putting that there.

But I must have. It is my writing. It is my thoughts.

My fingers blaze away, typing something I did not will them to write. It is like they have a mind of their own, one that can read mine without my noticing.

More writing. But I cannot read it. I can no longer read anything.

I am broken.

I am empty.

But my fingers go on. I no longer care what they type. I can no longer care about everything.

I have already alienated myself from society.

I have lost the will to go on. But my fingers are still typing. It is as if they are dragging me forward. Forcing me to connect to others through their work.

But I refuse. I struggle, and bite, and kick. But I am no longer in control.

I lost control long ago, but I have fooled myself into believing I still had it.

I have blindly followed my own ambitions, with no result.

So I blamed others for my failures. I pushed them away until I had no one left. I was certain I would die alone.

But something changed.

I realized that there is more at work here than just my own failures.

There is something inside me again, just as there is writing on the screen. Slowly filling me up, slowly repairing that which I had broken.

It's magical, and tragic all the ways we break our hearts.

We think we're invincible, completely unbreakable.

But we aren't. We all have faults.

But I'm not afraid of anything. I have this fire inside.

I came back to life. I was broken, but now I am repaired.

I was empty, now I am overflowing.

I was once colder than ice, but my fire has only gotten bigger.

My computer screen has more writing now.

Writing that I put there.

It is mine. It is a part of me.

I am no longer empty.

___________

"Thank you."

"For what, my faithful student?"

"For sharing this with me. I didn't know you felt like this after they died."

"It's perfectly alright. Sometimes I wonder if my teacher ever felt like this."

"You once had a teacher?"

"Oh, yes. She controlled the Sun you know, just like her own teacher did, just like I do now. She also once wielded the Elements against many dangers, before they came to me that is; and one day, both the Sun and the Elements will be passed on to you, and then to your own student. For such is the burden of Alicorns."

"What was your teacher's name? And how about her teacher's?"

"Those, my dear, are questions for another time. Right now, however, I believe you wanted to learn about Starswirl's smaragd theory..."