My Lifeby Golden ScriptChapters2. The Author's Creation3. A Walk in the Park4. Cute Crushes5. "Flying" Lessons1. In the Beginning, There was a Story2. The Author's Creation“Push, honey! Push!” Written urged his wife, Golden Harvest, who laid on a medical table. This is the beginning of my story. A hospital room, a doctor, and a couple of ponies that love each other very much. From here we’ll go on to talk about my childhood—a time that few ponies remember. Most of what will be told in those bits will be secondhoof telling’s from my parents’ memories. There may be stories missing and there may be conflicting accounts, but that comes with the territory of non-fiction history: everypony’s got their story, and everypony thinks theirs is right. Now, for my parents, raising me was difficult. Being a pegasus didn’t help them adjust to having a foal—and, if that wasn’t bad enough, they tried to do it all on their own. No training, no books, no help. To that, I say “Hah!” “Mrs. Harvest, You’re almost through. Just a few more pushes,” the doctor attempted to motivate the mare. Her screams of agony weren’t very reassuring for anypony. It wasn’t the doctor’s first delivery—in fact, he’d done several others. They all went roughly the same, though. Screaming, blood, and crying afterwards (sometimes happy tears, other times… not so much). If he was being honest, this was one of the best births he’d overseen. Everything was going well until… “Alright, And....” His magic lit his horn, cradling the little bundle of joy (or terror, depending on your perspective) that would eventually grow into me. “Congratulations, Golden Harvest, Written Script. It’s a pegasus.” “What?” asked Golden Harvest. “You mean to say-” she started to say before her attention whipped to Written Script, who was still staring at the doctor—though… more through the doctor, if anything. “Written, I swear-” “You misunderstand,” said the doctor as he motioned over to a chart showing the three pony races. “Sometimes recessive genes can bring a pegasus from a unicorn and earth pony. It’s a perfectly normal phenomenon.” He looked to the couple kindly. “A prime example is the Cake family—two earth ponies who brought a unicorn and a pegasus foal into the world. It’s no reason for worry or suspicion.” Golden looked relieved, sighing as the tension left her shoulders and she finally relaxed, having spent the past few hours working the hardest she thought she ever would. Of course, there were two more on the way, but that’s a story for another day. Written, on the other hoof, was still stunned to silence—from the moment it was first announced that the foal was neither unicorn or earth pony. In fact, he had grown a small smile on his face. He was broken out of his daze when the door opened again, revealing a young nurse mare holding a small wrapping of blankets in her magic. She quickly and carefully traversed the room, stopping next to the bed, and lowered it to the new mother, who greedily took it and brought it close to her chest. A hoof from the other side of the bed—Written’s—came to the blanket to uncover what laid below. A foal with a light grey coat and soft blond hair slept soundly in the new mother’s hooves. “Golden,” Written said simply, garnering his wife’s attention. “Yes?” Golden asked before realizing where he was staring. Written chuckled. “No, Golden. A beautiful first name.” He reached forward to stroke the golden mane—a hoof came up to greet his, and brought it down to suckle on softly. “Script,” she responded. “What? You only call me that when I’m in trouble.” He sarcastically—softly—responded, looking her dead in the eye with that shit-eating grin he wore when teasing her. Golden sighed, closing her eyes and resisting the urge to facehoof. “No, you idiot, Script. As a last name. Golden Script.” Golden looked back up to her husband. He stared at her with the most unamused deadpan, and before she could ask what was wrong he turned to the doctor, who was still watching the heart touching moment that was unfolding before him. Again, it wasn’t his first, but it was always something to behold when everything turned out perfectly. “What do you think?” he asked the unprepared stallion. “Huh?” The doctor was brought back to the present by the question asked of him. “See? Even the doctor thinks ‘Script’ is a dumb last name!” Written said as he turned back to Golden, who was wearing a Cheshire grin. She wrapped a hoof around Written’s neck and pulled him into a loving kiss. “Shut up,” she chuckled into his neck. “Just shut up and be happy.” “Okay,” he said, a soft smile on his face, while holding her close. Author's Note A quick little chapter to show the birth of Chri- I mean Golden Script! Golden Script was the name I was going to say. I'm working on a couple chapters at the same time, so it may be a bit before the next chapter comes out. 3. A Walk in the Park Warning! The first scene in this chapter may be a bit graphic to some viewers. If you're not comfortable with what is written, please skip to the first page break. (horizontal line) If you think I should up the rating of my story, please comment saying so. “That’s it!” I suddenly shouted, mid-thrust, as my mind connected the dots. “Oh,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, it is!” “No, Private Eye! The police are interrogating somepony, but he bashes in and starts his own barrage of questions!” My voice was growing hysterical as my motion had become little to none. My partner realized with a groan her night of fun was over, and rolled onto her back. “And the ponies in charge just let that happen?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. “Of course they don’t! The captain yells at him in front of the suspect, ruining all sense of authority and reinforces her confidence in her alibi. Then they’re forced to let her go—and that’s when she goes after his family!!” I didn’t notice how loud I was yelling. “Sounds riveting.” She smirked at me while levitating a nearby glass of wine to herself and taking a sip. “You’d better get to writing it before you forget.” “Right!” I shouted, again, as I stumbled out of bed. The bed was not so forthcoming, relinquishing one of its only two heat sources, so it sent a blanket tendril to trip me up and keep me ensnared. This only brought my face to the carpet a lot faster than I’d originally hoped—though I can’t say I ever hoped for that in the first place. “I’m good!” I told her as I popped up and rushed into the kitchen. I heard a light chuckle from the bedroom as I began scribbling down details for later revisions. I was too enthralled in my work to pay it any mind, though. Only later did I realize how high and dry—or the complete opposite, if you know what I mean—I’d left my beloved. Without a doubt, later that night was one of the best nights of my life thus far. Who cares about that, though? Sex sells, but drama keeps them coming back! So, now for some turmoil! I could tell you stories I’ve heard from my parents about my foalhood. Stories about sitting in the kitchen, in my diaper, banging pots and pans around (wearing one on my head, obviously); one time I walked around the house saying “buck” while mom and dad frantically tried to get me to stop and explain why I shouldn’t say that word (you can imagine how confused I was a couple years later when I went to the apple farm and heard them talk about “bucking” the trees); I could even tell you about the stuffed animal, Cutie Pie, I carried around all the time (the name I gave the plushie caused my parents to question getting me such a toy, but they were very accepting… especially after the tantrum I threw when they tried to take her away from me). Of course, I won’t tell you all these stories—mostly because I just did, and I don’t think I could do it any more justice even if I could remember them. Instead, we’ll skip to my first little sister. Mom had been getting fat. Really fat. In fact, she was becoming so large, I had—on more than one occasion—attempted to hide some of her favorite foods. Sadly, that lead to a wasted bucked to rocky road ice cream… And then, the unimaginable happened. One day, when mom and I were on a walk, she collapsed suddenly. I handled the situation as calmly as I could… and promptly went running through the park screaming bloody murder for my dad. Good thing he was in earshot, too, or I might have alerted the whole town to a fake monster attack. Wouldn’t be the first one… … Monster attack, not colt cried timberwolf. Either way, Written Script came running, sprinting right past me when he noticed where I was coming from. Mom and I always went on walks when dad wasn’t home—she said it cleared her head and helped her think. (I think she just liked looking at the pretty flowers) Dad knew our route pretty thoroughly, and easily traced my steps back to her. The path of calamity I left in my wake helped as well. When I realized he wasn’t going to stop for me I pulled a wicked U-turn and started back towards mom—who I’d left… in the park… all alone.... I think I made it back before my dad, that day. Not the first time I’d beaten him in a race, but I’m pretty sure the other times were because he let me win. Nevertheless, I was too desperate to make it back to mom to make sure she was alright to think about it. “Mommy? Are you okay?” I asked, pulling as much air into my little pegasus lungs as I could. “M-mommy’s fine, she just needs to get to the hospital as soon as possible.” She grimaced and a hoof shot down to the large bulge in her stomach. “B-b-but that’s where sick and injured ponies go!” I squeaked in distress, my ears splayed back and eyes went wide. “Mom?” I asked quietly as tears welled in my eyes. “I’m going to be just fine, Goldie. Don’t worry.” I could see the strain she was putting herself through just to keep a soft smile. It was then that dad arrived. “Honey, are you alright?” he asked, examining her for any outward injury. “I’m fine, Writ.” She quickly became serious. “It’s happening.” Dad got a similar—if more nervous—look as he glanced around. Several ponies had followed him as he sprinted down the street, more curious about what was happening than anything. His eyes locked on an apple salespony who was hitched to a cart. “Can I borrow your cart, please!” Written begged as he approached the pony. “Eeyup!” The large red stallion backed the cart up to mom and waited for dad to gently lift her onto the cushions provided by a nearby couch salespony—funnily enough, I buy most of my quills at a discount from him, these days (I get them shipped for half the price, too). I tried to get in the cart, myself, but the bed of the cart was too high even with the help of my wings. After a second or two of struggling my dad pushed me up and onto one of the throw pillows and went to get hitched to the cart. “Er… ya sure ya don’t want me ta get ‘er to the hospital?” asked the red stallion who’d lent the cart. “This here cart’s made fer earth ponies, not unicorns.” “Thanks, but I’ve troubled you enough.” The last hitching was put in place and he started off towards Ponyville Medical. “Thanks again! I’ll have the cart back by sundown! And the cushions!” he shouted as he accelerated down the street. “Mom,” I said as I looked over to the mare lying on her side and breathing hard. “Mom, are you okay? What can I do?” I asked, the tears from before beginning to streak down my face. “You’re doing great, sweetie. But this next parts the hard one. You’re going to have to be strong for me, okay? Think you can do that?” She flinched as she stifled a quiet yelp. “M-mom!” She looked me in the eye pleadingly and I steeled myself. “Yes. Y-yes, I can do it. No matter the difficulty!” I tried to make my voice deeper and more confident, but I think it only came out strange. “Perfect.” She smiled warmly, but the smile was broken by another body-wracking shudder of pain. This time, the yelp wasn’t stifled. “MOM!” I shouted. A sudden increase in speed put my face in a cushion. I struggled to sit up again and pulled myself into my mother’s hooves. She gripped me in a tight hug—a really tight hug—and began breathing funny. Twice in, once out. My thoughts shot back to what she’d just requested of me, saying that this was the hardest part. I took the pain with pride, that my mom would allow me to take on the enormous responsibility I was entrusted with. The rest of that cart trip was a blur of motion, pain, and screams. I don’t remember when we got to the hospital, but I do remember being separated from her when she was taken behind some doors with dad and I was left in the foals’ playpen. I didn’t play with any of the toys, I only sat in the corner fearing I’d somehow failed my mother. What if she didn’t come out and it was my fault? What if she did come out, but she wasn’t okay? What if- A nurse’s hoof interrupted my thoughts. “You’re Golden Harvest’s foal, aren’t you?” she asked, taking a seat next to me in the corner. “Are you worried about your mom?” I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my hooves. I’d been crying, and crying hard. I wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Y-yeah.... She said this is the hardest part.” I rethought my statement. “Or, that the cart ride was the hardest part… I’m not sure.” The mare chuckled at this. “Your mother is in the care of the best ponies suited for the job. She’s going to be just fine.” Her hoof rubbed my back soothingly. I looked up to her, hope glimmering in my eyes. “You promise?” She gave me a kind smile and pulled me into an equally kind hug. “I promise.” Like a lot of things from way back then, I don’t remember when I fell asleep… or when I got back home… or when the creature that my parents called my little sister escaped Tartarus—I swear, that thing hissed at me, once! But, in all seriousness, compared to that day, the following weeks and months were somewhat ordinary. Sure, there was the occasional cry-fest; sure, I didn’t get as much attention anymore; sure, she was more trouble than she was worth… but I think it was all for the better. She grew up great and that’s all that matters. Until… eugh… Todd. Buck Todd. Author's Note I pumped this chapter out last night when I had the idea of the quick nurse scene. In fact, it happened a lot like the first scene, with me thinking "that's it!" in the middle of a thrust... Of my toothbrush in my mouth. Get your minds out of the gutter! 4. Cute CrushesA quick tap of the quill marks the end of the notes. My wings relaxed after what seemed like hours of writing. The clock begged to differ, showing only a single hour had passed. I didn’t believe it, and brushed it off as a trick of space-time (because we all know how finicky that can be). I looked back down at my work—several papers spread over the table. I’d been writing nonstop as ideas flowed from my subconscious. “Finally.” I said, sighing in relief. Chapter or no, my editor would be pleased that day. Though… my editor wasn’t the mare I should’ve been worried about. “Eep!” I yelped as I felt something tantalizingly close to my inner thigh. “I know that it was for your job, but I was having such fun in the bedroom.” I looked beneath the table to find the mare I’d left in the bedroom licking the fur on my legs flat. “Well, I’m almost done. I just have to take these to-” I wasn’t able to finish, as I was suddenly pushed back from my seated position and onto my back. After making sure my head didn’t smash itself on the ground I looked over my stomach to my beloved. “But you always spend so much time with her!” she whined playfully. “I sometimes wonder if… if you’re....” she started tearing up—but it was more than obvious she wasn’t being serious. “Cheating on you?” I asked, a raised eyebrow and soft smirk. “Of course not.” I pulled her into a firm hug. “I could never cheat on you.” “B-b-b-but…” she stuttered as she looked into my eyes, an animatedly large lower lip and puppy dog eyes. “Never!” I whispered to her, smiling. I pulled her into a loving kiss and, while she was distracted, flipped her onto her back. She chuckled as she reoriented herself and looked up at me, now standing over her. “You wouldn’t,” she said simply. “I would.” The Cheshire grin I gave her was more than enough warning, but I was still too fast. My mouth went to her belly and gave a mighty blow, releasing a loud noise of flatulence and laughter. Not even a second later she was doing everything she could to get me away from her, but it was futile. I would get my stomach farts if it was the last thing I did. Her pleads for me to stop were the only thing I could hear, besides the natural sound a pony makes in such a situation. Naturally, I didn’t listen. My saddlebag hit the ground with a soft thump—all the hardback books I got from the library that day must be weighing it down. My rump hit the seat and I sighed in relief. Just as I thought I was safe, a loud ringing nearly sent me jumping into the ceiling. Once I realized it was just the starting bell I calmed down again. I’d made it on time. Of course, nothing can last forever. The teacher raised her hoof to quiet the class and draw attention to herself. She welcomed everypony before she began writing on the blackboard. Math. I. Hate. Math. She continued with… what was this thing? It looks like you’re drawing a tree with a really long branch! That’s not a math symbol! And how does four equal two, when you put the tree thingy above it?! you’re just making stuff up, now! Anyway, as she talked about squares and tree roots (or something along those lines) my mind began to wander. I thought about trees, taking me to the apple farm that was outside of town. It was a huge estate, one that dwarfed even the city proper. Of course, I wasn’t much of a farmer—my black hoof is a testament to that. My mom got me a flower, once. It was dead within a day. Mom says that flowers don’t die that fast to dad when she thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t realize that, in my dazed state, my eyes had strayed from the board. “Hey.” I heard a whisper from my right. “Hey, Goldie. Whatcha lookin’ at?” asked Rose Swirl, the filly that sat next to me in class. Rose Swirl was the opposite to me when it came to hooves and their colors—literally and figuratively. I had a light grey coat and a soft yellow mane; Rose had a pink coat, purple mane, and red eyes. And when it came to plants, I don’t think she had a hoof that wasn’t green. No, really. I once saw the earth pony filly laying on her belly and using her hind hooves to dig holes for the seed package she was reading for instructions on care. That was a strange afternoon. I was once again pulled from my own thoughts by Rose. “Goldie, you there? Equestria to Golden Script.” I shook my head to clear my mind and bring myself more firmly into the present. “Sorry, just lost in thought.” “Oh? Is that all?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and suggestive smirk. “Sure those ‘thoughts’ weren’t about somepony in particular?” she asked and flicked her eyes to the other side of the room where I was supposedly looking before. There sat Sky Chaser, one of the cuter colts in class. His light blue mane was almost long enough to touch his desk, his alabaster coat seemed to be constantly covered in a light dew, and his beautiful green eyes held a shine like the afternoon sky.... Now, I’ll have you know, I wasn’t looking at him for any reason, he just happened to be where my eyes settled. “What? No!” I said a little loudly. I looked to the front of the class, where the teacher was writing little numbers in the superscript. Just… math, what are you? “You sure? Seemed as though you were watching pretty intently.” Rose looked over at Sky. “You should ask him out.” I barely held myself back from shouting even louder, slapping a hoof over my mouth to help in the effort. “Are you insane?” I asked when I knew I could keep a level voice. “Oh, come on! This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at him.” She was right. At least, she’d thought she’d caught me staring at him, but he was just where my eyes wandered when I wasn’t thinking about anything specifically—it wasn’t a crush and it wasn’t even attraction! “But… we’re only foals, Rose! Don’t you think we’re a bit young? Mom says that I should wait until I’m out of school to start looking for a special somepony.” I looked around uncomfortably, making sure our conversation was a private one. “Do you do everything your mother tells you to?” Rose asked challengingly. I mulled this over for a moment before responding. A quick glance to Sky, another back to the teacher—still engrossed in her… eugh… math—and a quick look to the rest of the room (there were perks to sitting in the back of the class) and I decided. “Yes,” I said simply before sitting back in my chair, then tried to shift my attention to the nonsense that was superscript numbers under the little tree-thing. “Wha-?!” Rose squeaked in surprise. “Horseapples! I watched you take a quill from Quills and Couches last week!” she whispered harshly to me. “Dad payed for that the next day. The shopkeeper knew I didn’t have any bits so he sent me home to show dad so he could buy it for me.” I tried to draw the tree thing as I said this, but it came out more like a V with one of its lines extra long. I tried again. “But… what about that time she told you to take out the trash, but you didn’t take it out?” Rose was grasping for straws, now. “I was in the middle of a quick outline. She knew that I’d be done shortly, but finished what she was doing first. I never got the chance to take out the trash, but I always intended to.” This time the tree looked closer, if a little lopsided. Rose growled to herself as she slumped in her chair. I didn’t notice, as I was busy drawing line-trees, but her eyes suddenly lit up as a thought apparently came to her mind. “Fine, then I’ll just ask him out.” The pencil fell out of my wing, clattering to the floor. Lucky for me, it was fairly quiet compared to the teacher’s voice at the moment. I scrambled to pick it back up again before it rolled too far away. “What’re you talking about, you don’t even like stallions.” I brought my blushing face close to the paper, covering it with my wing as I tried to distract myself from where my mind was leading me. “Yeah, but I’ve always been curious what it would be like to be treated, y’know? Doors held for you, meals payed for, romantic picnics in the park…” she sighed wistfully. I thought for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Fine.” “Huh?” her attention was pulled from her apparent daydream. “What do you mean, ‘fine?’” “You can ask him out. It’s your life, not mine.” I calmly went back to my math, copying down what the teacher put on the board so dad could explain it later. She thought for a moment, then looked to my flat-affect face. “Gold, I didn’t mean to push. I just want you to be happy.” Her hoof was suddenly on my own, which was clinging to the side of the desk; holding me, the desk, and the paper in place. Firmly. “I know, Rose.” My face softened and my grip lessened. I put the pencil down as I looked up to her, recognizing the concern in her eye. “I know.” I smiled and put my other hoof on hers. “Anything you two would like to share with the class?” came a voice from the front of the room. “Seems like a really touching moment.” We both blushed and moved back to our seats. “No, sorry,” I hurriedly said. “Right. Golden, can you solve this equation?” she asked as she motioned to the board. My blood turned to ice as all eyes were on me. I looked over the tree with several numbers and a few symbols under it—some I recognized, some I didn’t. I kept reading through it, hoping for something that would kick start my memory of something I might have seen a few minutes ago. Of course, I had no luck. I began to stutter something out when a voice from the front of the class interrupted me. “Seven, ma’am.” All eyes shifted from me to Sky Chaser, who was looking calculatingly at the board. “But there’s no way Golden could have gotten it—you used the alternate symbols for multiplication. Gold was absent the day we covered those.” The teacher blushed lightly, then looked at the board, where she’d drawn asterisks and dots where X’s should have gone. She looked over to Sky and nodded her head. “Very good, Sky Chaser,” she said, turning back to me. “Golden, see me after class so I can show you what you missed.” I smiled, as I was expected to, and nodded; but once the teacher’s eyes were off me, my head met my desk in the quietest face-desk I could manage. “I’ll wait after for you. We can walk home together.” Rose tried to comfort me, rubbing my back while the teacher’s own was turned. “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” “No, it’s fine. I don’t understand any of this, anyway.” I said as I sat back up, trying to do my best to pay attention the rest of the day so I can piece it all together later on. The remedial lesson was the worst. I was taught all the shapes of the multiplication sign, some tricks with parentheses, and the importance of the superscript numbers—or “squares and cubes.” I still didn’t completely understand it, but it was starting to come together. I could ask my dad about anything that didn’t make sense later… after my daily writing… and probably an eight-hour nap… and another day of school. I’ll ask him before the test, assuming there isn’t a pop quiz in the next few weeks. “Finally, freedom!” I giggled to myself as I pushed the schoolhouse doors open. Rose should have been waiting next to the flagpole, but when I rounded the corner of the school I found something horrifying. Or, more accurately, somepony. Sky Chaser sat next to the flag, looking up at a nearby cloud. Rose was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I could still sneak away. I have been told that I can be very sneaky when I want to be. I froze midstride, thinking back to earlier today, when Sky answered the question for me. I realized that, at the very least, I owed him a “thank you.” I steeled myself and stepped out from behind a bush. “Sky Chaser?” I asked quietly. His head whipped around and he jumped to his hooves. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting me to be behind him when I appeared, not that he was really paying attention to his surroundings. He always seemed to have his head in the clouds… “O-oh! Golden Script, I didn’t notice… uh, hi!” he said, putting out a hoof for me to bump. I did as much, chuckling at the poor colt’s stuttering. “What’re you doing here? Class has been out for a while, now.” I sat down, and patted the dirt for him to join me. He shifted uncomfortably on his hooves, then moved to sit next to me. He seemed to have something to say, but was having trouble concocting the words. I waited patiently for him to organize his thoughts. He looked up at me and took a deep breath before speaking. “Rose talked to me after class. She said that you were watching me and that she thought I should approach you, because you weren’t approaching me.” I stiffened when he mentioned Rose, but let him continue. “I don’t know what to say, really… it’s just… I’ve never had somepony like me, before. Not like that, anyway.” To this, I lost my level head. I burst into a fit of laughter, falling onto my side as I did. “W-what? Was it… something I said?” He asked, looking from me to the surrounding bushes, as if there were ponies lurking in the shadows and this was some elaborate prank. “No, no!” I said, putting my hooves under me once more as I calmed down. “It’s just silly how oblivious you are.” “Oblivious?” he asked, slightly confused. “Oblivious: not aware of or not concerned about what is happening around one,” I recited on instinct. “Basically, you don’t notice how many of the fillies in class watch you.” When I finished explaining he blushed. “You mean-” he started, but couldn’t finish his thought. “Uh-huh. If I had to guess, I’d say you were number two on the ‘most crushes’ list.” I chuckled as I said it, thinking about who the only other pony was that obviously had more love directed their way. “Like who?” he asked, finally letting his paranoia dissipate and letting his disbelief take over. “I’m not that liked, am I?” “Of course! Smart, athletic, handsome—you’re nearly the complete package!” I sat up as I said this. “I’m not all that…” he said humbly, kicking the dirt with a hoof. “You kind of are. I mean, you answered that question in class today without so much as a thought! Thanks for that, by the way. I had no idea what she was talking about all class, today.” I chuckled, as did he. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect anything else for a while. Teach told me if I did it again she’d put me in detention for disrupting class.” Sky looked down to the dirt, drawing little circles with his hoof as he did. After a brief moment of silence—one I realized was awkward only a few seconds later—he glanced up at me again, a spark of something in his eye that resembled my little sister when she wanted an extra cookie. “You really think I’m all that stuff you said earlier?” he asked softly, letting his hoof fall flat again. It was my turn to blush. “Well, yeah…” I said hesitantly. “And…” he hesitated a moment longer. “What Rose said?” “Wait, what did Rose say?” I asked, completely forgetting the earlier conversation for a moment. “That you weren’t approaching me, and stuff.... Is it true?” He asked, giving me that cookie look again. I blanched, looking around like he had earlier, but didn’t notice anypony, much like I assumed he had. I remember that I stuttered something, but couldn’t quite tell you what. It was all just such a blur. When it was evident this still wasn’t a prank on either of our parts, I looked back to him. He seemed hurt by my hesitation—but, beyond that, disappointed. Then a thought occurred to me. “Do you… like me?” I asked, looking back to him. There wasn’t an answer—just a shrug and a blush. “But… but you’re Sky Chaser!” I said as if it were some incredible fact, as if he were part of the Wonderbolts or the royal family, or something. “And you’re Golden Script,” he chuckled, “what’s your point?” “Well… it’s just… I mean…” I sputtered something again, looking back up to him confusedly. “You’re cute and smart and fit and kind and just about any filly in class would fall for you in an instant if you gave them any of your attention! I’m just… the egghead at the back of the class....” I flinched away from his hurt gaze. “You’re not just a nerd. I don’t remember anyone else writing epic poetry last year, or correcting the teacher when she used the wrong ‘there’ in a sentence, or even memorizing all those definitions! I can’t think of anypony I’d rather be with more, right now.” He scooted forward, bringing our muzzles closer. “And I think you’re cute,” he said quickly, putting himself out there, so it seemed. “I… I’m not cute!” I said, blushing full blast. “I think you are, and isn’t that all that matters?” he said, moving another scoot forward. “S-Sky… I can’t....” I said, fear and pain in my voice. Confusion crossed his muzzle as he leaned back. “What do you mean?” There was blatant pain in his voice, as well. “I… I can’t reciprocate the emotions and feelings that are being presented in this courting attempt. I’m sorry.” I said this in the most technical way I could think of at the moment, trying to make it seem robotic and professional. “I… I don’t understand…” he said, taking a step back—I had only just realized he stood up. “I can’t be in a-” he cut me off. “No, no; I don’t understand why,” he clarified. “You just said that I was a great pony, but you don’t want to be with me?” “No, I don’t.” I looked down at my hooves, ashamed that I couldn’t return these apparent feelings. “Why?” His voice cracked. “I’m not ready for a relationship. I don’t think. Maybe.” I took a breath and, before he could answer, I kept talking. “If I accept your proposal I’ll be bringing us into a relationship that I don’t know I can support completely. It would be unfair to you to bring about a commitment that I couldn’t go through with.” I looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry.” At some point he had calmed down, if only slightly. “So… not now, but… eventually?” he asked with a stiff upper lip. “Maybe,” I said simply. “But that’s something for us to figure out in the future.” He nodded, thinking a moment longer as he stared at the dirt. I regret putting him through that, but the alternative was much worse. “What do I do now?” he asked. “Recover. The pain will disappear eventually. Then you should ask somepony else you like—I assure you any filly in our class would accept in a hoofbeat, though I wouldn’t recommend all of them.” I told him, standing like him. “I have to get home, soon. I’ll, uh... see you around.” I turned on my hooves and began walking away when I heard him speak up. “Golden?” he asked, almost too quiet to hear. I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?” I asked. “Will you still be my friend?” He had a hopeful look in his eye. I thought for a moment. Could I really be friends with somepony that I knew had feelings for me? Not to mention I wouldn’t have exactly called him a friend before—not that I wouldn’t have liked to. I started thinking about what it would be like to have another friend besides Rose and made my decision. “Sure, Sky Chaser.” I smiled warmly back to him and his face, too, burst into a smile. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow!” he said, lifting off from the ground with his wings. I hated how he could fly. I was still just learning. Stupid pegasus with pegasus parents. Earth pony and unicorn parents were stupid, too. Families are stupid. I kicked a rock, which flew a few feet away and struck a fence post head-on. My anger dissipated as I wondered if I could do it again, and I quickly discovered a new rock to kick. “He what?” dad screamed in a semi-rage. “Written, calm down! This isn’t something to get so mad about!” mom did her best to stop his anger before it went out of control. She wasn’t succeeding. “Golden Harvest, this colt decided he wanted to sexually harass our firstborn and you don’t think it’s something to be mad about?” He wasn’t yelling anymore, but there was a growl in his voice I wasn’t used to at the time. In fact, I can count how many times I’ve heard that voice with my hooves. “Written, it was a foal’s feelings—those are often strange and raw. Perhaps this colt just admired Golden for talents shown in class. We were shown the writings that were done last week, don’t you remember?” Mom was now standing between me, cowering in the corner, and dad, who’d been slowly approaching me. “You’re scaring Golden and you need to calm down.” “Like Tartarus I need to calm down!” he burst out. “Written! Language!” mom shouted—she was the one that implemented the curse jar when I got older, but we didn’t pay it much mind when she wasn’t home. “What about it? Gold knows more words than you or I probably ever will! You remember that month my Mare-Liam Dictionary went missing? Guess who took it!” Dad was starting to act like he used to when he went to the Salt Mine every Friday with his friends a few years ago. Nopony liked it when he went to the bars and drank a lot. “That’s beside the point, Written! You’re scaring him!” I’d never heard my mom yell so frantically, before or since, and I honestly hope I never will. It was the most terrifying part of the entire experience. So much so, in fact, that it sent dad stumbling back a few strides. It was then that I looked up from my hiding. I looked back and forth between my mother, who was breathing hard, and my father, who looked like he was rethinking his position in the argument. “Fine.” That’s all he said as he stood up straight again. “But Gold,” he said, looking at me determinedly. “Colts don’t like other colts.” With that, he left the room. A few moments passed, the clock’s ticking being the only sound perceivable. After a short time, though, mom suddenly collapsed in a crying heap. I stood as quickly as I could and galloped over to her, nuzzling her mane to try and garner attention. “M-mommy… are you okay?” I asked, a slight whimper in my voice. Her head raised slightly and I saw how red her eyes were, but she smiled for me and gave my forehead a soft kiss. “Yeah…” mom sniffed. “Mommy just needs a few minutes to rest.” She stood on wobbly legs and moved to the couch. “And I think I’d sleep a lot better with a snuggle buddy.” The tears in her eyes weren’t enough to obscure the sunlight of the smile she let shine. I couldn’t help but smile with her as I climbed onto the couch and huddled into her chest. “Don’t listen to your father,” she whispered in my ear. “He’s just a little old fashioned.” A few adjustments, a pillow pulled closer, and a hoof to raise my chin, bringing our eyes together. “Ponies are allowed to love whoever they choose.” “You mean whomever,” I corrected, chuckling softly. Moms laughter made me laugh, too. Once the giggles were out of our system we laid our heads down and drifted off to sleep. “Good night, Goldie.” “Good night, Mommy.” 5. "Flying" Lessons“Stop!” “Phththththt!” “I- I said- S-stop it!” “Phththththththththththt!” “No, don’t! Please!!” I stopped for a moment, looking up and into her tear-filled eyes, my mouth still wide open. She chuckled a little more, slowly catching her breath. I waited until her eyes met mine. And then took a deep breath. “Phthththththththththththththththththththt!” “No!” she screeched, kicking me off of her. I fell backwards, a loud bang emanating from the table still covered in papers. Her head whipped up as she suddenly calmed down, looking down at the still, pegasus form that was me. Her eyes watched for movement, but I laid still. She waited a little while before meekly talking to my motionless body. “G-Goldie? You alright?” she asked, looking me up and down. “I heard a bang.” I didn’t respond. My head laid just under the lip of the table, a small indent on the wood evident right above it. “Golden… Golden Script, talk to me.” She stood up and trotted over to me, hesitating for but a moment before tilting my head back to face her. My eyes were closed and there was a calm look on my face. She reached forward, elevating my head with her hooves. Lowering her cheek to my face to check if I was breathing, she flinched back when her fur didn’t feel the ruffling of breath. “Golden! D-don’t leave me, please! It was an accident!” she shouted to my motionless body. “Golden!” she shouted, lowering her head to my chest as tears began to flow. “And, scene!” I shouted, suddenly brought back from the dead. “Did you get that, cameramare?” I called, looking off to the side as if there was somepony recording us. My head hit the floor with a soft thump. She jumped back from me, probably expecting some kind of zombie to lunge at her while mumbling “Brains!” “G-Goldie?” she asked, confused by my sudden resurrection; but that confusion quickly changed to anger as she realized I was no worse for wear. “And you said I couldn’t be an actor…” I mumbled to myself as I stood up, brushing myself off. Our floor was exceptionally dirty. “You did great, honey! Now, go get yourself freshened up, we have a press meeting in fifteen about the new episode coming out. Remember, we don’t want them thinking I’m the one that died—not yet.” “Golden Script, I thought you were seriously injured!” she scolded me. “I was about to go get help!” “Well, we’re saving that for the next episode. And as long as your acting is as good as it was today, you can pretend any kind of physical trauma on me you’d like.” I poured myself a glass of water, taking a sip as I finished talking. “Ugh…” she groaned to herself. “No funtimes for a week—you’re grounded.” She walked back into the bedroom. I nearly dropped the glass, realizing what my antics had cost me. “Wait, no! That’s not fair!” I called after her, dashing for the bedroom door. She gathered her paint supplies and clothes. “Well, you should have thought of that before you played dead.” She then made her way to the front door. “But-… but-…” I couldn’t form a counter argument, fearing what other punishments could be forced on me. “You should get those papers to your editor—I’m sure she’d just love to see what you’ve accomplished today.” There was a little more bite in her voice than I’d expected and, as the door slammed shut, I realized exactly how much I’d probably just bucked up. I stood in the apartment for a minute, just thinking about everything and wondering what I should do next. I looked back at my work—which really did need to be delivered—and then back to the front door, considering following her to surprise her with flowers or something equally tacky. The frustration showed on my face as I considered my options, my head whipping back and forth between the parchment and the door. A growl grew in my throat as I grabbed my keys. “Buck it!” I didn’t want to go to school. The night before had left me physically and emotionally drained. Dad didn’t come home that night, either, which didn’t help my inability to sleep. If he’d at least come back—inebriated or not—I would have been able to at least sleep a little. Instead, I stayed up all night thinking about all the different ways I could have just ruined our family. To my knowledge, he still wasn’t home. Mom had pushed me out of the door a little early that day, probably worried about what might happen if I was home when dad got home. To be honest, I’m thankful she made me go early that day. “Hey, Golden Script!” I heard from above me. Glancing up, I noticed a white pegasus gliding down from above, and I recognized his voice. “Sky Chaser!” I said, perking up at the presence of my new friend, but my muzzle quickly scrunched in confusion. “Wait, do you always come to school so early?” I asked as he touched down a few paces away. “Well, not really; but that’s ‘cause I wasn’t going to school. I was practicing flying.” He flapped his wings. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him, noticing the sweat he’d worked up. “Do you always work so hard?” “W-well, not always…” he mumbled as a light blush graced his cheeks. “I guess I wanted to impress somepony with a new trick I’m working on.” “Yeah? And who might that be?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Sapphire, maybe? Or could it be Ivy? Though Breezy would probably be most impressed by some aerial maneuvers.” I gasped in mock horror. “Sky, you’re not trying to win some poor filly’s heart with cheap flying tricks, are you? You should take her on a romantic date to the park or something, get to know each other!” He’d stayed quiet for the most part through my rant, trying to cut me off here and there, but ultimately let me finish and hoof the mic back to him. After a moment, he realized he could talk. “No, nothing like that! I’m just trying to stay in top shape and keep my skills sharp!” He glanced about, making sure to avoid making eye contact with my accusatory glare. A moment later, I shrugged. “Okay. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.” “Right.” He chuckled nervously, still glancing around. The two of us trotted in relative silence after that. It obviously got to him because he broke the silence first. “Hey, Gold, do you always walk to school?” he asked. “Of course, how else would I get there?” I chuckled with a raised eyebrow. “Uh… by flying?” he suggested, ruffling his feathers. I fell silent, stopping in my tracks, before looking back at my own feathery appendages. “Oh… uh, right.” I chuckled, but I doubt that hid the blush that was growing on my cheeks. “Well, uh, you see...” “You got used to walking with Rose Swirl?” he asked, finishing the thought that wasn’t going through my head. “Huh?” I asked, processing what he said, and before he could respond my face lit up. “Oh! Yeah, that!” “Cool. Well, if we take off now, we should get there with a few minutes to spare. Maybe even play a game of tether ball or two before everypony else gets there.” He shook out his wings, preparing for lift off, and I did the same—though more hesitantly. He took off without issue, flapping repeatedly to gain altitude, and then spreading his wings into a shallow glide. I, on the other hoof, stood frozen on the ground, too afraid to even attempt to take off—afraid at what he’d think if I couldn’t get more than a few ponylengths off the ground. It didn’t take him long to realize I wasn’t flying behind him, so he turned around and came back. “Something wrong, Gold?” he asked as he landed next to me, again. “No! Nothing’s wrong! I just, uh, I’ve gotten too used to walking with Rose Swirl! I actually started enjoying the scenic route!” I tried to assure him, but my poker face was never really good—I still can’t join my friends for poker night because I lose too many bits in the endeavor. He looked at me with the most unconvinced look I think anypony had given me up until then. It’s since been topped by my mother, father, and landlord. But I digress. “Golden, can you fly?” he asked bluntly. “What’re you talking about, Sky? I’m a pegasus, of course I can fly!” My laugh sounded nervous, even to myself at the time. We held that awkward exchange for a while, just staring at each other; me with a comically large, nervous smile and him with a cold deadpan. He shook his head with a chuckle. “You can’t fly, can you?” “No.” My eyes dropped to the ground, studying the dirt path we’d been following up until then. “How’d you like me to teach you?” I looked up at him, curiosity in my eye. “You mean, teach me how to fly?” I asked. “No, teach you how to hit an apple with a hatchet while riding a shark,” he said sarcastically. “Of course! I mean, it’s not all that hard. In fact, I bet we can get you in the air before class today!” My spirits rose dramatically. I jumped forward, tackling him in a bearhug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I shouted, nuzzling his cheek with my own. “Uh- you’re welcome…” There was something… odd about his voice in that moment. Something I wouldn’t completely understand until much later in life. I looked at him questioningly, noticing the dark red blush that was slowly covering his face and the way his wings were splaying apart over the ground. It took a moment for my mind to process what was going through his head, but it became abundantly clear when I felt something poke me in the stomach. I jumped off the poor colt with a quick “eep!” and turned away. With a strange waver in my own voice I said loudly so he could hear me while I wasn’t facing him. “Thank you very much for teaching me how to fly, Sky Chaser!” I yelped. “Y-yeah!” he said, garnering my attention again. I hesitated to turn around, but when I did, I noticed he was laying on his stomach with his tail tucked under his hindquarters. I walked up next to him, looking at his far-off gaze. “You, uh… you alright?” I asked. “Never better,” he responded quickly. “Storing that image for later?” I asked, a slight smirk growing on my lips. “You bet.” He blushed lightly, but quickly quelled the redness in his cheeks. “And as for what poked me in the stomach just now?” I began to saunter in front of him, flicking his nose with my tail. “It was my knee,” he said, even faster than before, and the redness returned—as determined as he looked to get rid of it. “Right… just your knee.” I stood just next to him and leaned my head down to his level. “So, are we going to get to the flying lesson or are we going to take a nap?” “Flying, just give me a minute.” He seemed to be focusing hard, still staring off into the distance. “What? Your knee need to calm down?” I asked with a slight chuckle. When he didn’t respond, I continued. “Hmph. Well, I don’t want to be late for class. I’ll see you there.” I began to walk off, making exaggerated hip motions like I’d seen my mother do when she was making fun of my father. All I’m going to say for the record, it worked like a charm. Author's Note So... I'm not in my right mind right now. I pumped this out in the past few hours and I'm not proud of how it turned out. BUT! I'm posting it, anyway, because I feel like this story will remain dead otherwise. Also, I got the idea for Sky teaching Gold how to fly and couldn't help but write it down—but I couldn't do that without writing the rest of the chapter. Leave comments and stuff, please. 1. In the Beginning, There was a Story‘His hat down and a wilt in his walk, Private Eye traversed the alleyway where the poor mare laid still. He’d failed to catch the killer once more, allowing the demented soul to take another life. He looked over his shoulder to chance a glance at the most recent mare-made-victim. The stallion shut his eyes—much like he’d done when he’d first discovered her—and took a moment to hold back the bile rising in his throat before releasing a sigh.’ My brow furrowed as I struggled to decide on the next stanza. A few seconds passed before I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and I brought my hooves to slide the paper aside, which revealed a new paper. I readjusted the quill in my wing. ‘The high seas! My dream realized! I finally owned a ship of my own! Of course, it wasn’t mine until a short while ago—when me and some cohorts stole it from the docks—but once we were off the coast of Puerto Caballo my crew hoisted our own flag: the soon-to-be-infamous skull and crossbones. I pulled a rope free from its tether and wrapped it around my hoof a few times before pulling a mighty swing from the higher deck.’ My mind went blank and my head fell to the table I'd been working on. An exasperated groan escaped my lips. I lifted my head and began writing on a new paper that… now that I think about it, seemed to appear out of nowhere. I didn’t think much of it at the time as I lowered the feather to the paper again. ‘He came towards me with a predatory look in his eye. A deep growl emanated from his throat. Words—probably obscenities about the state of my cleanliness and social status in comparison to him—flowed from his lips. He stopped speaking before whispering something hot under his breath, an excruciating tickle on my neck that I silently begged to change to a bite. A quick whip of motion and he had a paddle in his hoof. It traced its way down my body, stopping and teasing all the right places. I awaited the hard smack on my cutie mark with bated brea’ I shouted in frustration as my hooves pushed everything from the wooden surface. Usually, if I couldn’t think of anything for my usual stories, I could pump out a raunchy chapter, if only to satiate my editor. Not in that way! I mean, I don’t think in that way… I never asked what she did with those chapters, but I don’t think they’re for publishing. Hardly my best work, you see. Either way, I was in a serious rut this morning. “Having trouble?” I heard from behind me. “No,” I responded, chuckling a little, even just from the sound of sarcasm in my voice. “What gave you that idea?” I felt a weight on my wings as another pony’s head rested on my own, a stem of grapes floated next to me with a pink glow around the sturdy stem. “Have you eaten anything today?” she asked as a grape pulled itself from the stem and floated towards my mouth. It bumped against my lips a few times, begging entry. I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to take the sweet morsel in my teeth. I chewed, extracting the juice, and mashed the remains in my mouth. When I was finished, all that remained of the single grape was some skin. I swallowed the remaining fruit before looking up to the hoof that feeds—or horn, in this case. “What’ve you been working on?” She pulled a piece of paper from my forehead and began reading in a soft mumble. I realized too late that this was the seafarer's story, apparently lifted from the table by the drying ink and my fur. “No!” I lunged, hooves outstretched. She was a step ahead, for she pulled the paper from my reach and walked away, back to the bedroom. She began humming a familiar tune as she reached the door frame. The paper lowered itself, allowing our eyes to meet. “Is this based on that one song by Molly?” Then she ducked into the room, giggling like the madmare she was. “Well, based on it, but not just a retelling,” I said as I stood up, placing the quill on my desk and following her to the bedroom. She regarded me in my disheveled state. I couldn’t sleep the night before, so I stayed up trying to put quill to parchment. “Looks like my little sailor's been working hard these past few hours," she teased. "You know what I do when I can’t get anywhere with my paintings....” There was a… sexy quality to her voice, now—something I hadn’t heard for a few weeks. “Yeah,” I answered as I rounded the doorway. “You tie me up and do as you will with me.” Though the sarcasm once again dripped from my lips, it was true. Even so, those nights were arguably the best of my life, barring a few experiences here and there. “uh-huh!” she said, her bit and bridle already draped lazily over her shoulder and her forelegs up against the wall. I froze in the doorway to let my brain process exactly what she meant. Brain.exe has stopped working, sorry for any inconvenience. Would you like to restart Brain.exe? Y/N Y Thank you for using Carbon Products! “Oh, I love you,” I chuckled as I moved up right behind her, my teeth nibbling at her neck as my wings fastened the straps and buckles. Alright, back to the start. I think I forgot to introduce myself—damn, I always do that—but here we are… just… uh, I mean… well…. My name’s Golden Script. If you’re reading this, go to the mailbox across the street and take the cart out back. There, you’ll find your mission, should you choose- Sorry, another time. All you need to know is that they’re after us. We don’t have time. Also, I’m a writer—in case you somehow hadn’t gotten that, yet. Nothing I’ve said thus far is true. You needn’t worry about any secret agents, mafia or aliens coming to kill us all as life as we know it decides to rip itself apart. Or do you? It’s really up to you what you do or don’t believe. I can’t say anything to convince you either way. Probably because, as you’re reading this, I’m dead. Maybe… Probably... Regardless! I don’t have time to tell you all the specifics, but this is a story about me—my story. Not all of it’s true… well, all of it is… for me, anyway—but that’s not what I want you to believe! I’m not a perverted freak because I want to be, the events that lead me here made me into what I am today. Shit, I haven’t explained fate, yet… So, in the beginning there was a thing, and things happened, and now those things lead to everything that happens—but not because anyone tells it to, it just does! You must look at it as if you’re in the far future. As if everything that will happen already has. Like a time traveler seeing his future self; he knows he won’t die until he has seen himself—or lets himself be seen by himself. In short, everything is the past. “History,” if you will. … Well, while this isn’t a story about my philosophical beliefs, we’ll probably broach that topic at some point. Anyway, I’m making this documentary in case I don’t make it through. I don’t want to die, but we all must, eventually—it’s part of our fate. The only things guaranteed by existence is that all things that begin eventually end and… Well, I haven’t quite figured out the second thing. Probably something to do with Peanuts. Now, back to what I was saying! Wait… what was I saying? Blast! All of the tangents! Ah! Right, the whole… thing. A long time ago in a town not so far from- well, it was actually quite cl- but it’s not for you, who- but we’re… In a town called Ponyville, our story begins. Two ponies, a mare and a stallion, meet for the first time. Golden Harvest, a yellow earth pony with a curly orange mane and three carrots for a cutie mark, was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago—her father would be furious if she didn’t get up early enough to pick the carrots while they were ripe. In fact, she wondered if she would be told to clean the house. She didn’t want to clean the house. Her father always needed things perfect, and no matter what she did, it was never perfect. That’s when she bumped into Written Script, a light gray unicorn with a purple mane and a scroll with writing on it for a cutie mark, the writer with a deadline coming up. He was rushing so much that he didn’t notice the little mare in his way, stumbled right over her and faceplanted on his face. Smooth, dude. Real smooth. Written got up, dusted himself off and made sure his papers were in order, before… helping the lady up? Apologizing for running into her? Asking her out on a date that would ultimately lead to the creation of their beautiful children, one who would eventually write this brilliant piece about their first meeting and subsequent falling in love and probably the lovemaking and possibly some other stuff? Nope. He runs off, knocking several other ponies out of his way as he moves swiftly through the crowds. Smooth. Golden (Harvest, Golden Harvest) stood, dusted herself off, and continued on her way home. Suffice it to say, neither got to their destination on time. Written mere seconds late—probably as much time as faceplanting on his face had taken—forcing his editor to go with another piece at the last minute, and Golden (Harvest) by… twenty minutes, give or take. Now, that wasn’t the last time they met, and each was more disastrous than the last. Written’s papers got wet—ruining them—as Golden’s (Golden Harvest! Not Script!) carrots were muddied… again… after being freshly cleaned. Golden’s (once again, Harvest, not Script (me)) cart’s wheel was broken—costing a small fortune to the carrot farmer and her family—as it rolled over Written’s typewriter, forcing him to use hoofwriting for the next few months (a much more difficult and time-consuming endeavor) as he worked up the money to buy a new one. Now, did they ever get together and figure out exactly why their “being together” always evoked such a volatile reaction? Nope, they just tried to turn the other way when they did see each other. They avoided each other like the plague. Of course, fate is a cruel mistress; and, one day, they were trapped together in an inescapable situation… A wedding. Well, not their wedding—yet. That was still a few years off. No, this was a friend’s wedding. The groom a friend of Written, and the bride a friend of Golden (Harvest). Specifically, Golden’s (Harvest) father’s main buyer’s daughter and Written’s editor’s brother. Upon arriving at the party the two went to their friends—Golden to the bride, Written to the groom—and wished their respective participants well. It was only during the ceremony that they realized the problematic situation they were both forced into. Their stealthy, mouthed conversation went a little like this: ‘what are you doing here?’ asked Written with an alert look on his face—the look of someone ready for a disaster to strike at any moment. ‘I’m the best mare! What about you?’ Golden looked around to make sure their secret conversation wasn’t being noticed. ‘I’m one of the groomstallions.’ Though Written was already watching for potential calamity, he also took a stealthy glance about. The other guests were none the wiser. ‘What do we do?’ Golden asked, her anxiety rising by the second. ‘It’ll be fine,’ Written tried to comfort her. ‘We can’t ruin this, I couldn’t-’ Golden’s panic attack was cut off as Written gave a confident, warm smile. ‘It’ll all be fine,’ he said with his eyes. Golden calmed down just as the bells began to chime. Her best friend for many years, and more to come, walked through. She wore in a beautiful white dress with frills and lace sewn about in abundance. Whoever crafted such a fine dress must have had quite the eye for fashion. There were gasps of awe at the bride’s beauty all around, but the most amazed was the groom. He’d been staring at the mare since she moved beyond the doors that once hid her from him, each second dragged out to a millennium for the awestruck stallion—and he certainly wasn’t admiring the craftsponyship of the dress. Once the mare took a deep breath she looked up to the room full of ponies that cared for her and her beloved. The two made eye contact and held it until she reached the steps that would finally bring the two together. She took them slowly, holding her smile and only glancing down to make sure she didn’t trip. Written and Golden watched as she finally stopped next to him, in just as much awe as the rest of the room. They were so in awe, in fact, that the anxiety of possibly ruining the wedding was momentarily thrust from their mind. There were several seconds of silence before the pony standing behind them spoke up. “We gather here, today…” As he droned on, the attention slowly drifted from him to the two betrothed, who were still entrapped in each other’s eyes. The smiles they wore radiated to the gathered ponies, bringing a pleasant atmosphere to the chamber. Of course, there were two ponies whose attention snapped back to the potential tragedy forming before them. Golden and Written were nervously glancing back and forth from each other, to the groom and bride, to the room itself—doing their best to make their paranoid examination of their surroundings seem natural. “If any of you have reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.” There was a moment of silence in the entire hall. But, of course, it wouldn’t last. One of the flower fillies chose that moment (or the moment before, really) to sniff a flower—having been thoroughly bored by the entire ordeal—and found her snout tickled by the blossom. A sharp inhale and… “Ahchoo!” Golden Harvest, in her tense fear of wrong-goings, flinched. Her hooves, once solidly rooted to the marble stage, slipped quite freely from their places. She crashed into the bride, sending them both forward. Written Script, being on the edge of the tension, himself, was more than ready for something like this to happen. Of course, he wasn’t ready for this specific anomaly, but his muscles were wound and his eyes were sharp. He heard the sneeze and jumped as well, but instead of tripping or slipping, he dove forward, shoving the groom, and caught Golden, saving her from landing on her face—much like he had when they first met, he realized just before gravity seemed to take hold of him. There was a loud gasp as everything happened. Horns were lit, wings were splayed, legs were brought to a ready position… and then everypony took a closer look. The bride and groom, who had been shoved by the best mare and the closest of the groomstallions, were embracing each other closely, having caught each other before they could fall. The stallion presiding over the ceremony righted his glasses and examined the predicament. Everypony took a moment to calm down as he looked from the couple on the ground to the couple holding each other. “Well, it seems somepony’s impatient, forcing our lovely couple closer!” he chuckled, the rest of the room following suit. “You may now kiss the bride.” Written and Golden sighed, thankful that something had turned out fine for once. The groom kissed the bride and the room was filled with the sound of stamping hooves, the crowd of family and friends showing their approval. Shortly thereafter, the mass of ponies moved to a large ball room for dancing and cake. Written and Golden kept towards the back of the group, trying to avoid attention. “That was a bold move, Written! Dad wouldn’t’ve been happy if that had turned out much different!” A loud stallion wrapped his hoof around Written’s neck, making him gag. “Brother… breathe… can’t…” Written choked out, struggling to pull in sweet, sweet oxygen. “Heh, you always were a lightweight.” Written's brother, standing a good head taller than him, dropped the poor younger brother. “So, who’s this beautiful filly you've brought with you?” he asked as his eyes moved to Golden Harvest, who was chuckling at Written’s expense. “Who?” Though Written’s voice squeaked, nopony present—not even Written, himself—knew if it was from his windpipe expanding again or his surprise. “This beautiful mare you’ve been hiding from your family!” The larger stallion’s hoof raised Golden’s. He placed a light kiss on her fetlocks. “Since he’s so reluctant to perform his duty as a gentlecolt and introduce his fair maiden, would you be so kind, miss…?” Though his words were those of high society, his gaze was anything but—animalistic, Golden would later swear to those who asked. “Golden Harvest,” she said simply as she pulled her hoof from his grasp. “Miss Harvest…” Written’s brother let the name roll around his mouth for a moment, causing the mare in question to cringe slightly. “Is my dear brother your special somepony?” his gaze grew continually more lecherous, as if he would jump her, then and there, to make her his own. “Yes!” Written’s voice broke their eye contact, surprising both Golden and Written’s brother. “I’ve been putting off introducing her to my family because I'm embarrassed by the way they treat mares.” Written moved between the two, a challenging look in his eye and a finality to his step as he backed his brother away from Golden Harvest. The older brother briefly looked as though he would retaliate, but then fell from an angry sneer to a soft smile as he spoke. “A-alright, sorry.... I thought… well, that doesn’t matter. I hope you’re happy.” He looked down on his brother and his supposed marefriend, an air of respect and pride flowing from him. After a curt nod, he walked off, leaving the two to talk of such things as their own theoretical marriage. “Uh… thanks? I think.” Golden shook her head in the hope that her thoughts would become more organized. “I’ve never had a stallion stand up for me before.” She walked over to Written, rubbing his side with her own comfortingly. “I'm sorry, I'll tell them we broke up tomorrow. I just... I don't want to think about how tonight might have ended if he got a couple drinks in you..." Written said quickly before attempting to walk off, his head hung low. “Wait! I have yet to thank you for saving my chastity,” she called quietly to him, pulling him back to her. “Pay me back? What do you mean, any stallion worth their salt would do the same.” He, again, tried to remove himself from the conversation; but Golden had a firm grip on his foreleg. A carrot farmer, while being nowhere near as strong as an apple farmer, was still stronger than a writer—even one that ran everywhere he went. “I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” She pulled him closer, interlocking their hooves. “Let me buy you a drink.” Written thought for a moment before he gazed into her eyes—which were much too close, for his comfort—an eyebrow raised. “but… the drinks are free.” Golden blanched at that. “It’s… it’s just a social cue. Like, let’s go get to know each other—but not saying it that way.” “Well, why not say it like that, then? It’s more straight forward.” Written took a step back, making the distance between them slightly more bearable. “Because it doesn’t roll off the tongue as well! It just sounds better when you imply things!” she whisper-shouted exasperatedly. “So, wait, are you… implying things?!” He seemed genuinely surprised. “What?! No!” she actually shouted. The whole room went silent. All of the guest's attention was on Golden and Written, eyes wide and curious, wondering what would elicit a reaction from the mare that nearly ruined the wedding. Nearly… “No, I just want to talk!” she whisper-screamed again, sending the room back into its idle murmur. “Well… as long as that’s all,” he said, cautiously. “I don’t smooch on the first date.” “You don’t what?” She looked at him incredulously. “Y’know, smooch!” He looked down at her, then his eyes went wide in realization. “wait… have your mommy and daddy not had ‘The Talk’ with you, yet?” Her confusion was mounting, coming to another screaming climax. Luckily, for both the room of ponies and Golden’s social identity, Written started chuckling to himself as he walked towards the bar. “Why, you-” Golden growled at him as she quickly trotted after him. The afterparty went swimmingly. Golden’s speech was long and comedic—proving the couple’s marriage to be a long and prosperous one—and when the bouquet throwing came around, the best mare happened to catch it. The entire room responded positively, proving fate was all too kind. It was a strange moment, but once she realized she was the “chosen” one she looked up—by chance—directly into Written Script’s eyes. There was a spark both only recognized later in life, when their romance was in full swing: an instant of inspiration shared between two souls. From there the two went on dates, got each other gifts, and had fun. When they saw each other on the street, they wouldn’t turn around and walk the other way, they’d make a quick trot to the other. The two were happy, and they foresaw it would stay that way. Of course, they weren’t counting on their first child. Those were some crazy years—and I should know, I was there. . .. ... Oh, yes; I was the kid. It sucked. I mean, you know how families joke about the first kid being a trial-run? Well, it was more than true for us. My early life was hard, what with the "learning how to be a parent" part. Also, the many dirty diapers and interrupted nap-times. Not to mention a unicorn and an earth pony having a pegasus baby.... Being the firstborn is difficult, no matter what family you grow up in. I can only imagine what it’s like for only-foals... Either way, the first three years of my life were hectic. Then came my little sister. My baby sister. The little girl that took all the attention from me and let me begin developing independently. By the time I was eight and she was five I got my cutie mark. I started writing seriously, trying my hoof at different writing styles and genres. I wrote foal’s short stories, mostly, and I began submitting my work for publishing when I turned thirteen—and by that time my parents had another kid. A filly, again. I love her to death, and spoil her whenever I’m in town, but I sometimes get the feeling mom and dad don’t want me rubbing off on her. Maybe they think I’m a bad influence. And who’s fault is that, do you think? Either way, I still come by every once-in-a-while. I always bring a gift for my youngest sister and a couple bits for my older one. And, for my parents, I bring a hug and an update on my life. I’m the only one that doesn’t live in Ponyville, having moved to Manehattan to learn how to write good. Eh? See what I did there? Writer puns! I’m sorry. You see, I've had a fairly normal life. I have two loving parents, two adorable siblings, and a life I feel I’ve lived to the fullest—or, at the very least, one I don’t regret so far. I hope you’ll enjoy my story, because that’s what this story is. My Life. Author's Note I first tried to post this on December 25th, as a kind of "Christmas gift" to those that decided to stay with me throughout my absence. I ended up taking it down around new-year's when it still wasn't published by the approvers. I took this as a sign from the fates (referenced earlier in this very chapter) that I would eventually go back and edit it. Of course, why wait for the inevitable, right? Anyway, after four days of agonizing over it, I decided to take the advice my artist friends gave me about drawing and painting--to accept it with its imperfections. I'm sure there's words in places that could be different that would make the chapter give a feeling, or something, but I can't figure it out. I just hope I continue to grow, like I did when I wrote oh-so-long-ago.
2. The Author's Creation“Push, honey! Push!” Written urged his wife, Golden Harvest, who laid on a medical table. This is the beginning of my story. A hospital room, a doctor, and a couple of ponies that love each other very much. From here we’ll go on to talk about my childhood—a time that few ponies remember. Most of what will be told in those bits will be secondhoof telling’s from my parents’ memories. There may be stories missing and there may be conflicting accounts, but that comes with the territory of non-fiction history: everypony’s got their story, and everypony thinks theirs is right. Now, for my parents, raising me was difficult. Being a pegasus didn’t help them adjust to having a foal—and, if that wasn’t bad enough, they tried to do it all on their own. No training, no books, no help. To that, I say “Hah!” “Mrs. Harvest, You’re almost through. Just a few more pushes,” the doctor attempted to motivate the mare. Her screams of agony weren’t very reassuring for anypony. It wasn’t the doctor’s first delivery—in fact, he’d done several others. They all went roughly the same, though. Screaming, blood, and crying afterwards (sometimes happy tears, other times… not so much). If he was being honest, this was one of the best births he’d overseen. Everything was going well until… “Alright, And....” His magic lit his horn, cradling the little bundle of joy (or terror, depending on your perspective) that would eventually grow into me. “Congratulations, Golden Harvest, Written Script. It’s a pegasus.” “What?” asked Golden Harvest. “You mean to say-” she started to say before her attention whipped to Written Script, who was still staring at the doctor—though… more through the doctor, if anything. “Written, I swear-” “You misunderstand,” said the doctor as he motioned over to a chart showing the three pony races. “Sometimes recessive genes can bring a pegasus from a unicorn and earth pony. It’s a perfectly normal phenomenon.” He looked to the couple kindly. “A prime example is the Cake family—two earth ponies who brought a unicorn and a pegasus foal into the world. It’s no reason for worry or suspicion.” Golden looked relieved, sighing as the tension left her shoulders and she finally relaxed, having spent the past few hours working the hardest she thought she ever would. Of course, there were two more on the way, but that’s a story for another day. Written, on the other hoof, was still stunned to silence—from the moment it was first announced that the foal was neither unicorn or earth pony. In fact, he had grown a small smile on his face. He was broken out of his daze when the door opened again, revealing a young nurse mare holding a small wrapping of blankets in her magic. She quickly and carefully traversed the room, stopping next to the bed, and lowered it to the new mother, who greedily took it and brought it close to her chest. A hoof from the other side of the bed—Written’s—came to the blanket to uncover what laid below. A foal with a light grey coat and soft blond hair slept soundly in the new mother’s hooves. “Golden,” Written said simply, garnering his wife’s attention. “Yes?” Golden asked before realizing where he was staring. Written chuckled. “No, Golden. A beautiful first name.” He reached forward to stroke the golden mane—a hoof came up to greet his, and brought it down to suckle on softly. “Script,” she responded. “What? You only call me that when I’m in trouble.” He sarcastically—softly—responded, looking her dead in the eye with that shit-eating grin he wore when teasing her. Golden sighed, closing her eyes and resisting the urge to facehoof. “No, you idiot, Script. As a last name. Golden Script.” Golden looked back up to her husband. He stared at her with the most unamused deadpan, and before she could ask what was wrong he turned to the doctor, who was still watching the heart touching moment that was unfolding before him. Again, it wasn’t his first, but it was always something to behold when everything turned out perfectly. “What do you think?” he asked the unprepared stallion. “Huh?” The doctor was brought back to the present by the question asked of him. “See? Even the doctor thinks ‘Script’ is a dumb last name!” Written said as he turned back to Golden, who was wearing a Cheshire grin. She wrapped a hoof around Written’s neck and pulled him into a loving kiss. “Shut up,” she chuckled into his neck. “Just shut up and be happy.” “Okay,” he said, a soft smile on his face, while holding her close. Author's Note A quick little chapter to show the birth of Chri- I mean Golden Script! Golden Script was the name I was going to say. I'm working on a couple chapters at the same time, so it may be a bit before the next chapter comes out.
3. A Walk in the Park Warning! The first scene in this chapter may be a bit graphic to some viewers. If you're not comfortable with what is written, please skip to the first page break. (horizontal line) If you think I should up the rating of my story, please comment saying so. “That’s it!” I suddenly shouted, mid-thrust, as my mind connected the dots. “Oh,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, it is!” “No, Private Eye! The police are interrogating somepony, but he bashes in and starts his own barrage of questions!” My voice was growing hysterical as my motion had become little to none. My partner realized with a groan her night of fun was over, and rolled onto her back. “And the ponies in charge just let that happen?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. “Of course they don’t! The captain yells at him in front of the suspect, ruining all sense of authority and reinforces her confidence in her alibi. Then they’re forced to let her go—and that’s when she goes after his family!!” I didn’t notice how loud I was yelling. “Sounds riveting.” She smirked at me while levitating a nearby glass of wine to herself and taking a sip. “You’d better get to writing it before you forget.” “Right!” I shouted, again, as I stumbled out of bed. The bed was not so forthcoming, relinquishing one of its only two heat sources, so it sent a blanket tendril to trip me up and keep me ensnared. This only brought my face to the carpet a lot faster than I’d originally hoped—though I can’t say I ever hoped for that in the first place. “I’m good!” I told her as I popped up and rushed into the kitchen. I heard a light chuckle from the bedroom as I began scribbling down details for later revisions. I was too enthralled in my work to pay it any mind, though. Only later did I realize how high and dry—or the complete opposite, if you know what I mean—I’d left my beloved. Without a doubt, later that night was one of the best nights of my life thus far. Who cares about that, though? Sex sells, but drama keeps them coming back! So, now for some turmoil! I could tell you stories I’ve heard from my parents about my foalhood. Stories about sitting in the kitchen, in my diaper, banging pots and pans around (wearing one on my head, obviously); one time I walked around the house saying “buck” while mom and dad frantically tried to get me to stop and explain why I shouldn’t say that word (you can imagine how confused I was a couple years later when I went to the apple farm and heard them talk about “bucking” the trees); I could even tell you about the stuffed animal, Cutie Pie, I carried around all the time (the name I gave the plushie caused my parents to question getting me such a toy, but they were very accepting… especially after the tantrum I threw when they tried to take her away from me). Of course, I won’t tell you all these stories—mostly because I just did, and I don’t think I could do it any more justice even if I could remember them. Instead, we’ll skip to my first little sister. Mom had been getting fat. Really fat. In fact, she was becoming so large, I had—on more than one occasion—attempted to hide some of her favorite foods. Sadly, that lead to a wasted bucked to rocky road ice cream… And then, the unimaginable happened. One day, when mom and I were on a walk, she collapsed suddenly. I handled the situation as calmly as I could… and promptly went running through the park screaming bloody murder for my dad. Good thing he was in earshot, too, or I might have alerted the whole town to a fake monster attack. Wouldn’t be the first one… … Monster attack, not colt cried timberwolf. Either way, Written Script came running, sprinting right past me when he noticed where I was coming from. Mom and I always went on walks when dad wasn’t home—she said it cleared her head and helped her think. (I think she just liked looking at the pretty flowers) Dad knew our route pretty thoroughly, and easily traced my steps back to her. The path of calamity I left in my wake helped as well. When I realized he wasn’t going to stop for me I pulled a wicked U-turn and started back towards mom—who I’d left… in the park… all alone.... I think I made it back before my dad, that day. Not the first time I’d beaten him in a race, but I’m pretty sure the other times were because he let me win. Nevertheless, I was too desperate to make it back to mom to make sure she was alright to think about it. “Mommy? Are you okay?” I asked, pulling as much air into my little pegasus lungs as I could. “M-mommy’s fine, she just needs to get to the hospital as soon as possible.” She grimaced and a hoof shot down to the large bulge in her stomach. “B-b-but that’s where sick and injured ponies go!” I squeaked in distress, my ears splayed back and eyes went wide. “Mom?” I asked quietly as tears welled in my eyes. “I’m going to be just fine, Goldie. Don’t worry.” I could see the strain she was putting herself through just to keep a soft smile. It was then that dad arrived. “Honey, are you alright?” he asked, examining her for any outward injury. “I’m fine, Writ.” She quickly became serious. “It’s happening.” Dad got a similar—if more nervous—look as he glanced around. Several ponies had followed him as he sprinted down the street, more curious about what was happening than anything. His eyes locked on an apple salespony who was hitched to a cart. “Can I borrow your cart, please!” Written begged as he approached the pony. “Eeyup!” The large red stallion backed the cart up to mom and waited for dad to gently lift her onto the cushions provided by a nearby couch salespony—funnily enough, I buy most of my quills at a discount from him, these days (I get them shipped for half the price, too). I tried to get in the cart, myself, but the bed of the cart was too high even with the help of my wings. After a second or two of struggling my dad pushed me up and onto one of the throw pillows and went to get hitched to the cart. “Er… ya sure ya don’t want me ta get ‘er to the hospital?” asked the red stallion who’d lent the cart. “This here cart’s made fer earth ponies, not unicorns.” “Thanks, but I’ve troubled you enough.” The last hitching was put in place and he started off towards Ponyville Medical. “Thanks again! I’ll have the cart back by sundown! And the cushions!” he shouted as he accelerated down the street. “Mom,” I said as I looked over to the mare lying on her side and breathing hard. “Mom, are you okay? What can I do?” I asked, the tears from before beginning to streak down my face. “You’re doing great, sweetie. But this next parts the hard one. You’re going to have to be strong for me, okay? Think you can do that?” She flinched as she stifled a quiet yelp. “M-mom!” She looked me in the eye pleadingly and I steeled myself. “Yes. Y-yes, I can do it. No matter the difficulty!” I tried to make my voice deeper and more confident, but I think it only came out strange. “Perfect.” She smiled warmly, but the smile was broken by another body-wracking shudder of pain. This time, the yelp wasn’t stifled. “MOM!” I shouted. A sudden increase in speed put my face in a cushion. I struggled to sit up again and pulled myself into my mother’s hooves. She gripped me in a tight hug—a really tight hug—and began breathing funny. Twice in, once out. My thoughts shot back to what she’d just requested of me, saying that this was the hardest part. I took the pain with pride, that my mom would allow me to take on the enormous responsibility I was entrusted with. The rest of that cart trip was a blur of motion, pain, and screams. I don’t remember when we got to the hospital, but I do remember being separated from her when she was taken behind some doors with dad and I was left in the foals’ playpen. I didn’t play with any of the toys, I only sat in the corner fearing I’d somehow failed my mother. What if she didn’t come out and it was my fault? What if she did come out, but she wasn’t okay? What if- A nurse’s hoof interrupted my thoughts. “You’re Golden Harvest’s foal, aren’t you?” she asked, taking a seat next to me in the corner. “Are you worried about your mom?” I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my hooves. I’d been crying, and crying hard. I wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Y-yeah.... She said this is the hardest part.” I rethought my statement. “Or, that the cart ride was the hardest part… I’m not sure.” The mare chuckled at this. “Your mother is in the care of the best ponies suited for the job. She’s going to be just fine.” Her hoof rubbed my back soothingly. I looked up to her, hope glimmering in my eyes. “You promise?” She gave me a kind smile and pulled me into an equally kind hug. “I promise.” Like a lot of things from way back then, I don’t remember when I fell asleep… or when I got back home… or when the creature that my parents called my little sister escaped Tartarus—I swear, that thing hissed at me, once! But, in all seriousness, compared to that day, the following weeks and months were somewhat ordinary. Sure, there was the occasional cry-fest; sure, I didn’t get as much attention anymore; sure, she was more trouble than she was worth… but I think it was all for the better. She grew up great and that’s all that matters. Until… eugh… Todd. Buck Todd. Author's Note I pumped this chapter out last night when I had the idea of the quick nurse scene. In fact, it happened a lot like the first scene, with me thinking "that's it!" in the middle of a thrust... Of my toothbrush in my mouth. Get your minds out of the gutter!
4. Cute CrushesA quick tap of the quill marks the end of the notes. My wings relaxed after what seemed like hours of writing. The clock begged to differ, showing only a single hour had passed. I didn’t believe it, and brushed it off as a trick of space-time (because we all know how finicky that can be). I looked back down at my work—several papers spread over the table. I’d been writing nonstop as ideas flowed from my subconscious. “Finally.” I said, sighing in relief. Chapter or no, my editor would be pleased that day. Though… my editor wasn’t the mare I should’ve been worried about. “Eep!” I yelped as I felt something tantalizingly close to my inner thigh. “I know that it was for your job, but I was having such fun in the bedroom.” I looked beneath the table to find the mare I’d left in the bedroom licking the fur on my legs flat. “Well, I’m almost done. I just have to take these to-” I wasn’t able to finish, as I was suddenly pushed back from my seated position and onto my back. After making sure my head didn’t smash itself on the ground I looked over my stomach to my beloved. “But you always spend so much time with her!” she whined playfully. “I sometimes wonder if… if you’re....” she started tearing up—but it was more than obvious she wasn’t being serious. “Cheating on you?” I asked, a raised eyebrow and soft smirk. “Of course not.” I pulled her into a firm hug. “I could never cheat on you.” “B-b-b-but…” she stuttered as she looked into my eyes, an animatedly large lower lip and puppy dog eyes. “Never!” I whispered to her, smiling. I pulled her into a loving kiss and, while she was distracted, flipped her onto her back. She chuckled as she reoriented herself and looked up at me, now standing over her. “You wouldn’t,” she said simply. “I would.” The Cheshire grin I gave her was more than enough warning, but I was still too fast. My mouth went to her belly and gave a mighty blow, releasing a loud noise of flatulence and laughter. Not even a second later she was doing everything she could to get me away from her, but it was futile. I would get my stomach farts if it was the last thing I did. Her pleads for me to stop were the only thing I could hear, besides the natural sound a pony makes in such a situation. Naturally, I didn’t listen. My saddlebag hit the ground with a soft thump—all the hardback books I got from the library that day must be weighing it down. My rump hit the seat and I sighed in relief. Just as I thought I was safe, a loud ringing nearly sent me jumping into the ceiling. Once I realized it was just the starting bell I calmed down again. I’d made it on time. Of course, nothing can last forever. The teacher raised her hoof to quiet the class and draw attention to herself. She welcomed everypony before she began writing on the blackboard. Math. I. Hate. Math. She continued with… what was this thing? It looks like you’re drawing a tree with a really long branch! That’s not a math symbol! And how does four equal two, when you put the tree thingy above it?! you’re just making stuff up, now! Anyway, as she talked about squares and tree roots (or something along those lines) my mind began to wander. I thought about trees, taking me to the apple farm that was outside of town. It was a huge estate, one that dwarfed even the city proper. Of course, I wasn’t much of a farmer—my black hoof is a testament to that. My mom got me a flower, once. It was dead within a day. Mom says that flowers don’t die that fast to dad when she thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t realize that, in my dazed state, my eyes had strayed from the board. “Hey.” I heard a whisper from my right. “Hey, Goldie. Whatcha lookin’ at?” asked Rose Swirl, the filly that sat next to me in class. Rose Swirl was the opposite to me when it came to hooves and their colors—literally and figuratively. I had a light grey coat and a soft yellow mane; Rose had a pink coat, purple mane, and red eyes. And when it came to plants, I don’t think she had a hoof that wasn’t green. No, really. I once saw the earth pony filly laying on her belly and using her hind hooves to dig holes for the seed package she was reading for instructions on care. That was a strange afternoon. I was once again pulled from my own thoughts by Rose. “Goldie, you there? Equestria to Golden Script.” I shook my head to clear my mind and bring myself more firmly into the present. “Sorry, just lost in thought.” “Oh? Is that all?” she asked with a raised eyebrow and suggestive smirk. “Sure those ‘thoughts’ weren’t about somepony in particular?” she asked and flicked her eyes to the other side of the room where I was supposedly looking before. There sat Sky Chaser, one of the cuter colts in class. His light blue mane was almost long enough to touch his desk, his alabaster coat seemed to be constantly covered in a light dew, and his beautiful green eyes held a shine like the afternoon sky.... Now, I’ll have you know, I wasn’t looking at him for any reason, he just happened to be where my eyes settled. “What? No!” I said a little loudly. I looked to the front of the class, where the teacher was writing little numbers in the superscript. Just… math, what are you? “You sure? Seemed as though you were watching pretty intently.” Rose looked over at Sky. “You should ask him out.” I barely held myself back from shouting even louder, slapping a hoof over my mouth to help in the effort. “Are you insane?” I asked when I knew I could keep a level voice. “Oh, come on! This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at him.” She was right. At least, she’d thought she’d caught me staring at him, but he was just where my eyes wandered when I wasn’t thinking about anything specifically—it wasn’t a crush and it wasn’t even attraction! “But… we’re only foals, Rose! Don’t you think we’re a bit young? Mom says that I should wait until I’m out of school to start looking for a special somepony.” I looked around uncomfortably, making sure our conversation was a private one. “Do you do everything your mother tells you to?” Rose asked challengingly. I mulled this over for a moment before responding. A quick glance to Sky, another back to the teacher—still engrossed in her… eugh… math—and a quick look to the rest of the room (there were perks to sitting in the back of the class) and I decided. “Yes,” I said simply before sitting back in my chair, then tried to shift my attention to the nonsense that was superscript numbers under the little tree-thing. “Wha-?!” Rose squeaked in surprise. “Horseapples! I watched you take a quill from Quills and Couches last week!” she whispered harshly to me. “Dad payed for that the next day. The shopkeeper knew I didn’t have any bits so he sent me home to show dad so he could buy it for me.” I tried to draw the tree thing as I said this, but it came out more like a V with one of its lines extra long. I tried again. “But… what about that time she told you to take out the trash, but you didn’t take it out?” Rose was grasping for straws, now. “I was in the middle of a quick outline. She knew that I’d be done shortly, but finished what she was doing first. I never got the chance to take out the trash, but I always intended to.” This time the tree looked closer, if a little lopsided. Rose growled to herself as she slumped in her chair. I didn’t notice, as I was busy drawing line-trees, but her eyes suddenly lit up as a thought apparently came to her mind. “Fine, then I’ll just ask him out.” The pencil fell out of my wing, clattering to the floor. Lucky for me, it was fairly quiet compared to the teacher’s voice at the moment. I scrambled to pick it back up again before it rolled too far away. “What’re you talking about, you don’t even like stallions.” I brought my blushing face close to the paper, covering it with my wing as I tried to distract myself from where my mind was leading me. “Yeah, but I’ve always been curious what it would be like to be treated, y’know? Doors held for you, meals payed for, romantic picnics in the park…” she sighed wistfully. I thought for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Fine.” “Huh?” her attention was pulled from her apparent daydream. “What do you mean, ‘fine?’” “You can ask him out. It’s your life, not mine.” I calmly went back to my math, copying down what the teacher put on the board so dad could explain it later. She thought for a moment, then looked to my flat-affect face. “Gold, I didn’t mean to push. I just want you to be happy.” Her hoof was suddenly on my own, which was clinging to the side of the desk; holding me, the desk, and the paper in place. Firmly. “I know, Rose.” My face softened and my grip lessened. I put the pencil down as I looked up to her, recognizing the concern in her eye. “I know.” I smiled and put my other hoof on hers. “Anything you two would like to share with the class?” came a voice from the front of the room. “Seems like a really touching moment.” We both blushed and moved back to our seats. “No, sorry,” I hurriedly said. “Right. Golden, can you solve this equation?” she asked as she motioned to the board. My blood turned to ice as all eyes were on me. I looked over the tree with several numbers and a few symbols under it—some I recognized, some I didn’t. I kept reading through it, hoping for something that would kick start my memory of something I might have seen a few minutes ago. Of course, I had no luck. I began to stutter something out when a voice from the front of the class interrupted me. “Seven, ma’am.” All eyes shifted from me to Sky Chaser, who was looking calculatingly at the board. “But there’s no way Golden could have gotten it—you used the alternate symbols for multiplication. Gold was absent the day we covered those.” The teacher blushed lightly, then looked at the board, where she’d drawn asterisks and dots where X’s should have gone. She looked over to Sky and nodded her head. “Very good, Sky Chaser,” she said, turning back to me. “Golden, see me after class so I can show you what you missed.” I smiled, as I was expected to, and nodded; but once the teacher’s eyes were off me, my head met my desk in the quietest face-desk I could manage. “I’ll wait after for you. We can walk home together.” Rose tried to comfort me, rubbing my back while the teacher’s own was turned. “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” “No, it’s fine. I don’t understand any of this, anyway.” I said as I sat back up, trying to do my best to pay attention the rest of the day so I can piece it all together later on. The remedial lesson was the worst. I was taught all the shapes of the multiplication sign, some tricks with parentheses, and the importance of the superscript numbers—or “squares and cubes.” I still didn’t completely understand it, but it was starting to come together. I could ask my dad about anything that didn’t make sense later… after my daily writing… and probably an eight-hour nap… and another day of school. I’ll ask him before the test, assuming there isn’t a pop quiz in the next few weeks. “Finally, freedom!” I giggled to myself as I pushed the schoolhouse doors open. Rose should have been waiting next to the flagpole, but when I rounded the corner of the school I found something horrifying. Or, more accurately, somepony. Sky Chaser sat next to the flag, looking up at a nearby cloud. Rose was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I could still sneak away. I have been told that I can be very sneaky when I want to be. I froze midstride, thinking back to earlier today, when Sky answered the question for me. I realized that, at the very least, I owed him a “thank you.” I steeled myself and stepped out from behind a bush. “Sky Chaser?” I asked quietly. His head whipped around and he jumped to his hooves. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting me to be behind him when I appeared, not that he was really paying attention to his surroundings. He always seemed to have his head in the clouds… “O-oh! Golden Script, I didn’t notice… uh, hi!” he said, putting out a hoof for me to bump. I did as much, chuckling at the poor colt’s stuttering. “What’re you doing here? Class has been out for a while, now.” I sat down, and patted the dirt for him to join me. He shifted uncomfortably on his hooves, then moved to sit next to me. He seemed to have something to say, but was having trouble concocting the words. I waited patiently for him to organize his thoughts. He looked up at me and took a deep breath before speaking. “Rose talked to me after class. She said that you were watching me and that she thought I should approach you, because you weren’t approaching me.” I stiffened when he mentioned Rose, but let him continue. “I don’t know what to say, really… it’s just… I’ve never had somepony like me, before. Not like that, anyway.” To this, I lost my level head. I burst into a fit of laughter, falling onto my side as I did. “W-what? Was it… something I said?” He asked, looking from me to the surrounding bushes, as if there were ponies lurking in the shadows and this was some elaborate prank. “No, no!” I said, putting my hooves under me once more as I calmed down. “It’s just silly how oblivious you are.” “Oblivious?” he asked, slightly confused. “Oblivious: not aware of or not concerned about what is happening around one,” I recited on instinct. “Basically, you don’t notice how many of the fillies in class watch you.” When I finished explaining he blushed. “You mean-” he started, but couldn’t finish his thought. “Uh-huh. If I had to guess, I’d say you were number two on the ‘most crushes’ list.” I chuckled as I said it, thinking about who the only other pony was that obviously had more love directed their way. “Like who?” he asked, finally letting his paranoia dissipate and letting his disbelief take over. “I’m not that liked, am I?” “Of course! Smart, athletic, handsome—you’re nearly the complete package!” I sat up as I said this. “I’m not all that…” he said humbly, kicking the dirt with a hoof. “You kind of are. I mean, you answered that question in class today without so much as a thought! Thanks for that, by the way. I had no idea what she was talking about all class, today.” I chuckled, as did he. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect anything else for a while. Teach told me if I did it again she’d put me in detention for disrupting class.” Sky looked down to the dirt, drawing little circles with his hoof as he did. After a brief moment of silence—one I realized was awkward only a few seconds later—he glanced up at me again, a spark of something in his eye that resembled my little sister when she wanted an extra cookie. “You really think I’m all that stuff you said earlier?” he asked softly, letting his hoof fall flat again. It was my turn to blush. “Well, yeah…” I said hesitantly. “And…” he hesitated a moment longer. “What Rose said?” “Wait, what did Rose say?” I asked, completely forgetting the earlier conversation for a moment. “That you weren’t approaching me, and stuff.... Is it true?” He asked, giving me that cookie look again. I blanched, looking around like he had earlier, but didn’t notice anypony, much like I assumed he had. I remember that I stuttered something, but couldn’t quite tell you what. It was all just such a blur. When it was evident this still wasn’t a prank on either of our parts, I looked back to him. He seemed hurt by my hesitation—but, beyond that, disappointed. Then a thought occurred to me. “Do you… like me?” I asked, looking back to him. There wasn’t an answer—just a shrug and a blush. “But… but you’re Sky Chaser!” I said as if it were some incredible fact, as if he were part of the Wonderbolts or the royal family, or something. “And you’re Golden Script,” he chuckled, “what’s your point?” “Well… it’s just… I mean…” I sputtered something again, looking back up to him confusedly. “You’re cute and smart and fit and kind and just about any filly in class would fall for you in an instant if you gave them any of your attention! I’m just… the egghead at the back of the class....” I flinched away from his hurt gaze. “You’re not just a nerd. I don’t remember anyone else writing epic poetry last year, or correcting the teacher when she used the wrong ‘there’ in a sentence, or even memorizing all those definitions! I can’t think of anypony I’d rather be with more, right now.” He scooted forward, bringing our muzzles closer. “And I think you’re cute,” he said quickly, putting himself out there, so it seemed. “I… I’m not cute!” I said, blushing full blast. “I think you are, and isn’t that all that matters?” he said, moving another scoot forward. “S-Sky… I can’t....” I said, fear and pain in my voice. Confusion crossed his muzzle as he leaned back. “What do you mean?” There was blatant pain in his voice, as well. “I… I can’t reciprocate the emotions and feelings that are being presented in this courting attempt. I’m sorry.” I said this in the most technical way I could think of at the moment, trying to make it seem robotic and professional. “I… I don’t understand…” he said, taking a step back—I had only just realized he stood up. “I can’t be in a-” he cut me off. “No, no; I don’t understand why,” he clarified. “You just said that I was a great pony, but you don’t want to be with me?” “No, I don’t.” I looked down at my hooves, ashamed that I couldn’t return these apparent feelings. “Why?” His voice cracked. “I’m not ready for a relationship. I don’t think. Maybe.” I took a breath and, before he could answer, I kept talking. “If I accept your proposal I’ll be bringing us into a relationship that I don’t know I can support completely. It would be unfair to you to bring about a commitment that I couldn’t go through with.” I looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry.” At some point he had calmed down, if only slightly. “So… not now, but… eventually?” he asked with a stiff upper lip. “Maybe,” I said simply. “But that’s something for us to figure out in the future.” He nodded, thinking a moment longer as he stared at the dirt. I regret putting him through that, but the alternative was much worse. “What do I do now?” he asked. “Recover. The pain will disappear eventually. Then you should ask somepony else you like—I assure you any filly in our class would accept in a hoofbeat, though I wouldn’t recommend all of them.” I told him, standing like him. “I have to get home, soon. I’ll, uh... see you around.” I turned on my hooves and began walking away when I heard him speak up. “Golden?” he asked, almost too quiet to hear. I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?” I asked. “Will you still be my friend?” He had a hopeful look in his eye. I thought for a moment. Could I really be friends with somepony that I knew had feelings for me? Not to mention I wouldn’t have exactly called him a friend before—not that I wouldn’t have liked to. I started thinking about what it would be like to have another friend besides Rose and made my decision. “Sure, Sky Chaser.” I smiled warmly back to him and his face, too, burst into a smile. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow!” he said, lifting off from the ground with his wings. I hated how he could fly. I was still just learning. Stupid pegasus with pegasus parents. Earth pony and unicorn parents were stupid, too. Families are stupid. I kicked a rock, which flew a few feet away and struck a fence post head-on. My anger dissipated as I wondered if I could do it again, and I quickly discovered a new rock to kick. “He what?” dad screamed in a semi-rage. “Written, calm down! This isn’t something to get so mad about!” mom did her best to stop his anger before it went out of control. She wasn’t succeeding. “Golden Harvest, this colt decided he wanted to sexually harass our firstborn and you don’t think it’s something to be mad about?” He wasn’t yelling anymore, but there was a growl in his voice I wasn’t used to at the time. In fact, I can count how many times I’ve heard that voice with my hooves. “Written, it was a foal’s feelings—those are often strange and raw. Perhaps this colt just admired Golden for talents shown in class. We were shown the writings that were done last week, don’t you remember?” Mom was now standing between me, cowering in the corner, and dad, who’d been slowly approaching me. “You’re scaring Golden and you need to calm down.” “Like Tartarus I need to calm down!” he burst out. “Written! Language!” mom shouted—she was the one that implemented the curse jar when I got older, but we didn’t pay it much mind when she wasn’t home. “What about it? Gold knows more words than you or I probably ever will! You remember that month my Mare-Liam Dictionary went missing? Guess who took it!” Dad was starting to act like he used to when he went to the Salt Mine every Friday with his friends a few years ago. Nopony liked it when he went to the bars and drank a lot. “That’s beside the point, Written! You’re scaring him!” I’d never heard my mom yell so frantically, before or since, and I honestly hope I never will. It was the most terrifying part of the entire experience. So much so, in fact, that it sent dad stumbling back a few strides. It was then that I looked up from my hiding. I looked back and forth between my mother, who was breathing hard, and my father, who looked like he was rethinking his position in the argument. “Fine.” That’s all he said as he stood up straight again. “But Gold,” he said, looking at me determinedly. “Colts don’t like other colts.” With that, he left the room. A few moments passed, the clock’s ticking being the only sound perceivable. After a short time, though, mom suddenly collapsed in a crying heap. I stood as quickly as I could and galloped over to her, nuzzling her mane to try and garner attention. “M-mommy… are you okay?” I asked, a slight whimper in my voice. Her head raised slightly and I saw how red her eyes were, but she smiled for me and gave my forehead a soft kiss. “Yeah…” mom sniffed. “Mommy just needs a few minutes to rest.” She stood on wobbly legs and moved to the couch. “And I think I’d sleep a lot better with a snuggle buddy.” The tears in her eyes weren’t enough to obscure the sunlight of the smile she let shine. I couldn’t help but smile with her as I climbed onto the couch and huddled into her chest. “Don’t listen to your father,” she whispered in my ear. “He’s just a little old fashioned.” A few adjustments, a pillow pulled closer, and a hoof to raise my chin, bringing our eyes together. “Ponies are allowed to love whoever they choose.” “You mean whomever,” I corrected, chuckling softly. Moms laughter made me laugh, too. Once the giggles were out of our system we laid our heads down and drifted off to sleep. “Good night, Goldie.” “Good night, Mommy.”
5. "Flying" Lessons“Stop!” “Phththththt!” “I- I said- S-stop it!” “Phththththththththththt!” “No, don’t! Please!!” I stopped for a moment, looking up and into her tear-filled eyes, my mouth still wide open. She chuckled a little more, slowly catching her breath. I waited until her eyes met mine. And then took a deep breath. “Phthththththththththththththththththththt!” “No!” she screeched, kicking me off of her. I fell backwards, a loud bang emanating from the table still covered in papers. Her head whipped up as she suddenly calmed down, looking down at the still, pegasus form that was me. Her eyes watched for movement, but I laid still. She waited a little while before meekly talking to my motionless body. “G-Goldie? You alright?” she asked, looking me up and down. “I heard a bang.” I didn’t respond. My head laid just under the lip of the table, a small indent on the wood evident right above it. “Golden… Golden Script, talk to me.” She stood up and trotted over to me, hesitating for but a moment before tilting my head back to face her. My eyes were closed and there was a calm look on my face. She reached forward, elevating my head with her hooves. Lowering her cheek to my face to check if I was breathing, she flinched back when her fur didn’t feel the ruffling of breath. “Golden! D-don’t leave me, please! It was an accident!” she shouted to my motionless body. “Golden!” she shouted, lowering her head to my chest as tears began to flow. “And, scene!” I shouted, suddenly brought back from the dead. “Did you get that, cameramare?” I called, looking off to the side as if there was somepony recording us. My head hit the floor with a soft thump. She jumped back from me, probably expecting some kind of zombie to lunge at her while mumbling “Brains!” “G-Goldie?” she asked, confused by my sudden resurrection; but that confusion quickly changed to anger as she realized I was no worse for wear. “And you said I couldn’t be an actor…” I mumbled to myself as I stood up, brushing myself off. Our floor was exceptionally dirty. “You did great, honey! Now, go get yourself freshened up, we have a press meeting in fifteen about the new episode coming out. Remember, we don’t want them thinking I’m the one that died—not yet.” “Golden Script, I thought you were seriously injured!” she scolded me. “I was about to go get help!” “Well, we’re saving that for the next episode. And as long as your acting is as good as it was today, you can pretend any kind of physical trauma on me you’d like.” I poured myself a glass of water, taking a sip as I finished talking. “Ugh…” she groaned to herself. “No funtimes for a week—you’re grounded.” She walked back into the bedroom. I nearly dropped the glass, realizing what my antics had cost me. “Wait, no! That’s not fair!” I called after her, dashing for the bedroom door. She gathered her paint supplies and clothes. “Well, you should have thought of that before you played dead.” She then made her way to the front door. “But-… but-…” I couldn’t form a counter argument, fearing what other punishments could be forced on me. “You should get those papers to your editor—I’m sure she’d just love to see what you’ve accomplished today.” There was a little more bite in her voice than I’d expected and, as the door slammed shut, I realized exactly how much I’d probably just bucked up. I stood in the apartment for a minute, just thinking about everything and wondering what I should do next. I looked back at my work—which really did need to be delivered—and then back to the front door, considering following her to surprise her with flowers or something equally tacky. The frustration showed on my face as I considered my options, my head whipping back and forth between the parchment and the door. A growl grew in my throat as I grabbed my keys. “Buck it!” I didn’t want to go to school. The night before had left me physically and emotionally drained. Dad didn’t come home that night, either, which didn’t help my inability to sleep. If he’d at least come back—inebriated or not—I would have been able to at least sleep a little. Instead, I stayed up all night thinking about all the different ways I could have just ruined our family. To my knowledge, he still wasn’t home. Mom had pushed me out of the door a little early that day, probably worried about what might happen if I was home when dad got home. To be honest, I’m thankful she made me go early that day. “Hey, Golden Script!” I heard from above me. Glancing up, I noticed a white pegasus gliding down from above, and I recognized his voice. “Sky Chaser!” I said, perking up at the presence of my new friend, but my muzzle quickly scrunched in confusion. “Wait, do you always come to school so early?” I asked as he touched down a few paces away. “Well, not really; but that’s ‘cause I wasn’t going to school. I was practicing flying.” He flapped his wings. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him, noticing the sweat he’d worked up. “Do you always work so hard?” “W-well, not always…” he mumbled as a light blush graced his cheeks. “I guess I wanted to impress somepony with a new trick I’m working on.” “Yeah? And who might that be?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Sapphire, maybe? Or could it be Ivy? Though Breezy would probably be most impressed by some aerial maneuvers.” I gasped in mock horror. “Sky, you’re not trying to win some poor filly’s heart with cheap flying tricks, are you? You should take her on a romantic date to the park or something, get to know each other!” He’d stayed quiet for the most part through my rant, trying to cut me off here and there, but ultimately let me finish and hoof the mic back to him. After a moment, he realized he could talk. “No, nothing like that! I’m just trying to stay in top shape and keep my skills sharp!” He glanced about, making sure to avoid making eye contact with my accusatory glare. A moment later, I shrugged. “Okay. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.” “Right.” He chuckled nervously, still glancing around. The two of us trotted in relative silence after that. It obviously got to him because he broke the silence first. “Hey, Gold, do you always walk to school?” he asked. “Of course, how else would I get there?” I chuckled with a raised eyebrow. “Uh… by flying?” he suggested, ruffling his feathers. I fell silent, stopping in my tracks, before looking back at my own feathery appendages. “Oh… uh, right.” I chuckled, but I doubt that hid the blush that was growing on my cheeks. “Well, uh, you see...” “You got used to walking with Rose Swirl?” he asked, finishing the thought that wasn’t going through my head. “Huh?” I asked, processing what he said, and before he could respond my face lit up. “Oh! Yeah, that!” “Cool. Well, if we take off now, we should get there with a few minutes to spare. Maybe even play a game of tether ball or two before everypony else gets there.” He shook out his wings, preparing for lift off, and I did the same—though more hesitantly. He took off without issue, flapping repeatedly to gain altitude, and then spreading his wings into a shallow glide. I, on the other hoof, stood frozen on the ground, too afraid to even attempt to take off—afraid at what he’d think if I couldn’t get more than a few ponylengths off the ground. It didn’t take him long to realize I wasn’t flying behind him, so he turned around and came back. “Something wrong, Gold?” he asked as he landed next to me, again. “No! Nothing’s wrong! I just, uh, I’ve gotten too used to walking with Rose Swirl! I actually started enjoying the scenic route!” I tried to assure him, but my poker face was never really good—I still can’t join my friends for poker night because I lose too many bits in the endeavor. He looked at me with the most unconvinced look I think anypony had given me up until then. It’s since been topped by my mother, father, and landlord. But I digress. “Golden, can you fly?” he asked bluntly. “What’re you talking about, Sky? I’m a pegasus, of course I can fly!” My laugh sounded nervous, even to myself at the time. We held that awkward exchange for a while, just staring at each other; me with a comically large, nervous smile and him with a cold deadpan. He shook his head with a chuckle. “You can’t fly, can you?” “No.” My eyes dropped to the ground, studying the dirt path we’d been following up until then. “How’d you like me to teach you?” I looked up at him, curiosity in my eye. “You mean, teach me how to fly?” I asked. “No, teach you how to hit an apple with a hatchet while riding a shark,” he said sarcastically. “Of course! I mean, it’s not all that hard. In fact, I bet we can get you in the air before class today!” My spirits rose dramatically. I jumped forward, tackling him in a bearhug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I shouted, nuzzling his cheek with my own. “Uh- you’re welcome…” There was something… odd about his voice in that moment. Something I wouldn’t completely understand until much later in life. I looked at him questioningly, noticing the dark red blush that was slowly covering his face and the way his wings were splaying apart over the ground. It took a moment for my mind to process what was going through his head, but it became abundantly clear when I felt something poke me in the stomach. I jumped off the poor colt with a quick “eep!” and turned away. With a strange waver in my own voice I said loudly so he could hear me while I wasn’t facing him. “Thank you very much for teaching me how to fly, Sky Chaser!” I yelped. “Y-yeah!” he said, garnering my attention again. I hesitated to turn around, but when I did, I noticed he was laying on his stomach with his tail tucked under his hindquarters. I walked up next to him, looking at his far-off gaze. “You, uh… you alright?” I asked. “Never better,” he responded quickly. “Storing that image for later?” I asked, a slight smirk growing on my lips. “You bet.” He blushed lightly, but quickly quelled the redness in his cheeks. “And as for what poked me in the stomach just now?” I began to saunter in front of him, flicking his nose with my tail. “It was my knee,” he said, even faster than before, and the redness returned—as determined as he looked to get rid of it. “Right… just your knee.” I stood just next to him and leaned my head down to his level. “So, are we going to get to the flying lesson or are we going to take a nap?” “Flying, just give me a minute.” He seemed to be focusing hard, still staring off into the distance. “What? Your knee need to calm down?” I asked with a slight chuckle. When he didn’t respond, I continued. “Hmph. Well, I don’t want to be late for class. I’ll see you there.” I began to walk off, making exaggerated hip motions like I’d seen my mother do when she was making fun of my father. All I’m going to say for the record, it worked like a charm. Author's Note So... I'm not in my right mind right now. I pumped this out in the past few hours and I'm not proud of how it turned out. BUT! I'm posting it, anyway, because I feel like this story will remain dead otherwise. Also, I got the idea for Sky teaching Gold how to fly and couldn't help but write it down—but I couldn't do that without writing the rest of the chapter. Leave comments and stuff, please.
1. In the Beginning, There was a Story‘His hat down and a wilt in his walk, Private Eye traversed the alleyway where the poor mare laid still. He’d failed to catch the killer once more, allowing the demented soul to take another life. He looked over his shoulder to chance a glance at the most recent mare-made-victim. The stallion shut his eyes—much like he’d done when he’d first discovered her—and took a moment to hold back the bile rising in his throat before releasing a sigh.’ My brow furrowed as I struggled to decide on the next stanza. A few seconds passed before I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and I brought my hooves to slide the paper aside, which revealed a new paper. I readjusted the quill in my wing. ‘The high seas! My dream realized! I finally owned a ship of my own! Of course, it wasn’t mine until a short while ago—when me and some cohorts stole it from the docks—but once we were off the coast of Puerto Caballo my crew hoisted our own flag: the soon-to-be-infamous skull and crossbones. I pulled a rope free from its tether and wrapped it around my hoof a few times before pulling a mighty swing from the higher deck.’ My mind went blank and my head fell to the table I'd been working on. An exasperated groan escaped my lips. I lifted my head and began writing on a new paper that… now that I think about it, seemed to appear out of nowhere. I didn’t think much of it at the time as I lowered the feather to the paper again. ‘He came towards me with a predatory look in his eye. A deep growl emanated from his throat. Words—probably obscenities about the state of my cleanliness and social status in comparison to him—flowed from his lips. He stopped speaking before whispering something hot under his breath, an excruciating tickle on my neck that I silently begged to change to a bite. A quick whip of motion and he had a paddle in his hoof. It traced its way down my body, stopping and teasing all the right places. I awaited the hard smack on my cutie mark with bated brea’ I shouted in frustration as my hooves pushed everything from the wooden surface. Usually, if I couldn’t think of anything for my usual stories, I could pump out a raunchy chapter, if only to satiate my editor. Not in that way! I mean, I don’t think in that way… I never asked what she did with those chapters, but I don’t think they’re for publishing. Hardly my best work, you see. Either way, I was in a serious rut this morning. “Having trouble?” I heard from behind me. “No,” I responded, chuckling a little, even just from the sound of sarcasm in my voice. “What gave you that idea?” I felt a weight on my wings as another pony’s head rested on my own, a stem of grapes floated next to me with a pink glow around the sturdy stem. “Have you eaten anything today?” she asked as a grape pulled itself from the stem and floated towards my mouth. It bumped against my lips a few times, begging entry. I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to take the sweet morsel in my teeth. I chewed, extracting the juice, and mashed the remains in my mouth. When I was finished, all that remained of the single grape was some skin. I swallowed the remaining fruit before looking up to the hoof that feeds—or horn, in this case. “What’ve you been working on?” She pulled a piece of paper from my forehead and began reading in a soft mumble. I realized too late that this was the seafarer's story, apparently lifted from the table by the drying ink and my fur. “No!” I lunged, hooves outstretched. She was a step ahead, for she pulled the paper from my reach and walked away, back to the bedroom. She began humming a familiar tune as she reached the door frame. The paper lowered itself, allowing our eyes to meet. “Is this based on that one song by Molly?” Then she ducked into the room, giggling like the madmare she was. “Well, based on it, but not just a retelling,” I said as I stood up, placing the quill on my desk and following her to the bedroom. She regarded me in my disheveled state. I couldn’t sleep the night before, so I stayed up trying to put quill to parchment. “Looks like my little sailor's been working hard these past few hours," she teased. "You know what I do when I can’t get anywhere with my paintings....” There was a… sexy quality to her voice, now—something I hadn’t heard for a few weeks. “Yeah,” I answered as I rounded the doorway. “You tie me up and do as you will with me.” Though the sarcasm once again dripped from my lips, it was true. Even so, those nights were arguably the best of my life, barring a few experiences here and there. “uh-huh!” she said, her bit and bridle already draped lazily over her shoulder and her forelegs up against the wall. I froze in the doorway to let my brain process exactly what she meant. Brain.exe has stopped working, sorry for any inconvenience. Would you like to restart Brain.exe? Y/N Y Thank you for using Carbon Products! “Oh, I love you,” I chuckled as I moved up right behind her, my teeth nibbling at her neck as my wings fastened the straps and buckles. Alright, back to the start. I think I forgot to introduce myself—damn, I always do that—but here we are… just… uh, I mean… well…. My name’s Golden Script. If you’re reading this, go to the mailbox across the street and take the cart out back. There, you’ll find your mission, should you choose- Sorry, another time. All you need to know is that they’re after us. We don’t have time. Also, I’m a writer—in case you somehow hadn’t gotten that, yet. Nothing I’ve said thus far is true. You needn’t worry about any secret agents, mafia or aliens coming to kill us all as life as we know it decides to rip itself apart. Or do you? It’s really up to you what you do or don’t believe. I can’t say anything to convince you either way. Probably because, as you’re reading this, I’m dead. Maybe… Probably... Regardless! I don’t have time to tell you all the specifics, but this is a story about me—my story. Not all of it’s true… well, all of it is… for me, anyway—but that’s not what I want you to believe! I’m not a perverted freak because I want to be, the events that lead me here made me into what I am today. Shit, I haven’t explained fate, yet… So, in the beginning there was a thing, and things happened, and now those things lead to everything that happens—but not because anyone tells it to, it just does! You must look at it as if you’re in the far future. As if everything that will happen already has. Like a time traveler seeing his future self; he knows he won’t die until he has seen himself—or lets himself be seen by himself. In short, everything is the past. “History,” if you will. … Well, while this isn’t a story about my philosophical beliefs, we’ll probably broach that topic at some point. Anyway, I’m making this documentary in case I don’t make it through. I don’t want to die, but we all must, eventually—it’s part of our fate. The only things guaranteed by existence is that all things that begin eventually end and… Well, I haven’t quite figured out the second thing. Probably something to do with Peanuts. Now, back to what I was saying! Wait… what was I saying? Blast! All of the tangents! Ah! Right, the whole… thing. A long time ago in a town not so far from- well, it was actually quite cl- but it’s not for you, who- but we’re… In a town called Ponyville, our story begins. Two ponies, a mare and a stallion, meet for the first time. Golden Harvest, a yellow earth pony with a curly orange mane and three carrots for a cutie mark, was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago—her father would be furious if she didn’t get up early enough to pick the carrots while they were ripe. In fact, she wondered if she would be told to clean the house. She didn’t want to clean the house. Her father always needed things perfect, and no matter what she did, it was never perfect. That’s when she bumped into Written Script, a light gray unicorn with a purple mane and a scroll with writing on it for a cutie mark, the writer with a deadline coming up. He was rushing so much that he didn’t notice the little mare in his way, stumbled right over her and faceplanted on his face. Smooth, dude. Real smooth. Written got up, dusted himself off and made sure his papers were in order, before… helping the lady up? Apologizing for running into her? Asking her out on a date that would ultimately lead to the creation of their beautiful children, one who would eventually write this brilliant piece about their first meeting and subsequent falling in love and probably the lovemaking and possibly some other stuff? Nope. He runs off, knocking several other ponies out of his way as he moves swiftly through the crowds. Smooth. Golden (Harvest, Golden Harvest) stood, dusted herself off, and continued on her way home. Suffice it to say, neither got to their destination on time. Written mere seconds late—probably as much time as faceplanting on his face had taken—forcing his editor to go with another piece at the last minute, and Golden (Harvest) by… twenty minutes, give or take. Now, that wasn’t the last time they met, and each was more disastrous than the last. Written’s papers got wet—ruining them—as Golden’s (Golden Harvest! Not Script!) carrots were muddied… again… after being freshly cleaned. Golden’s (once again, Harvest, not Script (me)) cart’s wheel was broken—costing a small fortune to the carrot farmer and her family—as it rolled over Written’s typewriter, forcing him to use hoofwriting for the next few months (a much more difficult and time-consuming endeavor) as he worked up the money to buy a new one. Now, did they ever get together and figure out exactly why their “being together” always evoked such a volatile reaction? Nope, they just tried to turn the other way when they did see each other. They avoided each other like the plague. Of course, fate is a cruel mistress; and, one day, they were trapped together in an inescapable situation… A wedding. Well, not their wedding—yet. That was still a few years off. No, this was a friend’s wedding. The groom a friend of Written, and the bride a friend of Golden (Harvest). Specifically, Golden’s (Harvest) father’s main buyer’s daughter and Written’s editor’s brother. Upon arriving at the party the two went to their friends—Golden to the bride, Written to the groom—and wished their respective participants well. It was only during the ceremony that they realized the problematic situation they were both forced into. Their stealthy, mouthed conversation went a little like this: ‘what are you doing here?’ asked Written with an alert look on his face—the look of someone ready for a disaster to strike at any moment. ‘I’m the best mare! What about you?’ Golden looked around to make sure their secret conversation wasn’t being noticed. ‘I’m one of the groomstallions.’ Though Written was already watching for potential calamity, he also took a stealthy glance about. The other guests were none the wiser. ‘What do we do?’ Golden asked, her anxiety rising by the second. ‘It’ll be fine,’ Written tried to comfort her. ‘We can’t ruin this, I couldn’t-’ Golden’s panic attack was cut off as Written gave a confident, warm smile. ‘It’ll all be fine,’ he said with his eyes. Golden calmed down just as the bells began to chime. Her best friend for many years, and more to come, walked through. She wore in a beautiful white dress with frills and lace sewn about in abundance. Whoever crafted such a fine dress must have had quite the eye for fashion. There were gasps of awe at the bride’s beauty all around, but the most amazed was the groom. He’d been staring at the mare since she moved beyond the doors that once hid her from him, each second dragged out to a millennium for the awestruck stallion—and he certainly wasn’t admiring the craftsponyship of the dress. Once the mare took a deep breath she looked up to the room full of ponies that cared for her and her beloved. The two made eye contact and held it until she reached the steps that would finally bring the two together. She took them slowly, holding her smile and only glancing down to make sure she didn’t trip. Written and Golden watched as she finally stopped next to him, in just as much awe as the rest of the room. They were so in awe, in fact, that the anxiety of possibly ruining the wedding was momentarily thrust from their mind. There were several seconds of silence before the pony standing behind them spoke up. “We gather here, today…” As he droned on, the attention slowly drifted from him to the two betrothed, who were still entrapped in each other’s eyes. The smiles they wore radiated to the gathered ponies, bringing a pleasant atmosphere to the chamber. Of course, there were two ponies whose attention snapped back to the potential tragedy forming before them. Golden and Written were nervously glancing back and forth from each other, to the groom and bride, to the room itself—doing their best to make their paranoid examination of their surroundings seem natural. “If any of you have reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.” There was a moment of silence in the entire hall. But, of course, it wouldn’t last. One of the flower fillies chose that moment (or the moment before, really) to sniff a flower—having been thoroughly bored by the entire ordeal—and found her snout tickled by the blossom. A sharp inhale and… “Ahchoo!” Golden Harvest, in her tense fear of wrong-goings, flinched. Her hooves, once solidly rooted to the marble stage, slipped quite freely from their places. She crashed into the bride, sending them both forward. Written Script, being on the edge of the tension, himself, was more than ready for something like this to happen. Of course, he wasn’t ready for this specific anomaly, but his muscles were wound and his eyes were sharp. He heard the sneeze and jumped as well, but instead of tripping or slipping, he dove forward, shoving the groom, and caught Golden, saving her from landing on her face—much like he had when they first met, he realized just before gravity seemed to take hold of him. There was a loud gasp as everything happened. Horns were lit, wings were splayed, legs were brought to a ready position… and then everypony took a closer look. The bride and groom, who had been shoved by the best mare and the closest of the groomstallions, were embracing each other closely, having caught each other before they could fall. The stallion presiding over the ceremony righted his glasses and examined the predicament. Everypony took a moment to calm down as he looked from the couple on the ground to the couple holding each other. “Well, it seems somepony’s impatient, forcing our lovely couple closer!” he chuckled, the rest of the room following suit. “You may now kiss the bride.” Written and Golden sighed, thankful that something had turned out fine for once. The groom kissed the bride and the room was filled with the sound of stamping hooves, the crowd of family and friends showing their approval. Shortly thereafter, the mass of ponies moved to a large ball room for dancing and cake. Written and Golden kept towards the back of the group, trying to avoid attention. “That was a bold move, Written! Dad wouldn’t’ve been happy if that had turned out much different!” A loud stallion wrapped his hoof around Written’s neck, making him gag. “Brother… breathe… can’t…” Written choked out, struggling to pull in sweet, sweet oxygen. “Heh, you always were a lightweight.” Written's brother, standing a good head taller than him, dropped the poor younger brother. “So, who’s this beautiful filly you've brought with you?” he asked as his eyes moved to Golden Harvest, who was chuckling at Written’s expense. “Who?” Though Written’s voice squeaked, nopony present—not even Written, himself—knew if it was from his windpipe expanding again or his surprise. “This beautiful mare you’ve been hiding from your family!” The larger stallion’s hoof raised Golden’s. He placed a light kiss on her fetlocks. “Since he’s so reluctant to perform his duty as a gentlecolt and introduce his fair maiden, would you be so kind, miss…?” Though his words were those of high society, his gaze was anything but—animalistic, Golden would later swear to those who asked. “Golden Harvest,” she said simply as she pulled her hoof from his grasp. “Miss Harvest…” Written’s brother let the name roll around his mouth for a moment, causing the mare in question to cringe slightly. “Is my dear brother your special somepony?” his gaze grew continually more lecherous, as if he would jump her, then and there, to make her his own. “Yes!” Written’s voice broke their eye contact, surprising both Golden and Written’s brother. “I’ve been putting off introducing her to my family because I'm embarrassed by the way they treat mares.” Written moved between the two, a challenging look in his eye and a finality to his step as he backed his brother away from Golden Harvest. The older brother briefly looked as though he would retaliate, but then fell from an angry sneer to a soft smile as he spoke. “A-alright, sorry.... I thought… well, that doesn’t matter. I hope you’re happy.” He looked down on his brother and his supposed marefriend, an air of respect and pride flowing from him. After a curt nod, he walked off, leaving the two to talk of such things as their own theoretical marriage. “Uh… thanks? I think.” Golden shook her head in the hope that her thoughts would become more organized. “I’ve never had a stallion stand up for me before.” She walked over to Written, rubbing his side with her own comfortingly. “I'm sorry, I'll tell them we broke up tomorrow. I just... I don't want to think about how tonight might have ended if he got a couple drinks in you..." Written said quickly before attempting to walk off, his head hung low. “Wait! I have yet to thank you for saving my chastity,” she called quietly to him, pulling him back to her. “Pay me back? What do you mean, any stallion worth their salt would do the same.” He, again, tried to remove himself from the conversation; but Golden had a firm grip on his foreleg. A carrot farmer, while being nowhere near as strong as an apple farmer, was still stronger than a writer—even one that ran everywhere he went. “I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” She pulled him closer, interlocking their hooves. “Let me buy you a drink.” Written thought for a moment before he gazed into her eyes—which were much too close, for his comfort—an eyebrow raised. “but… the drinks are free.” Golden blanched at that. “It’s… it’s just a social cue. Like, let’s go get to know each other—but not saying it that way.” “Well, why not say it like that, then? It’s more straight forward.” Written took a step back, making the distance between them slightly more bearable. “Because it doesn’t roll off the tongue as well! It just sounds better when you imply things!” she whisper-shouted exasperatedly. “So, wait, are you… implying things?!” He seemed genuinely surprised. “What?! No!” she actually shouted. The whole room went silent. All of the guest's attention was on Golden and Written, eyes wide and curious, wondering what would elicit a reaction from the mare that nearly ruined the wedding. Nearly… “No, I just want to talk!” she whisper-screamed again, sending the room back into its idle murmur. “Well… as long as that’s all,” he said, cautiously. “I don’t smooch on the first date.” “You don’t what?” She looked at him incredulously. “Y’know, smooch!” He looked down at her, then his eyes went wide in realization. “wait… have your mommy and daddy not had ‘The Talk’ with you, yet?” Her confusion was mounting, coming to another screaming climax. Luckily, for both the room of ponies and Golden’s social identity, Written started chuckling to himself as he walked towards the bar. “Why, you-” Golden growled at him as she quickly trotted after him. The afterparty went swimmingly. Golden’s speech was long and comedic—proving the couple’s marriage to be a long and prosperous one—and when the bouquet throwing came around, the best mare happened to catch it. The entire room responded positively, proving fate was all too kind. It was a strange moment, but once she realized she was the “chosen” one she looked up—by chance—directly into Written Script’s eyes. There was a spark both only recognized later in life, when their romance was in full swing: an instant of inspiration shared between two souls. From there the two went on dates, got each other gifts, and had fun. When they saw each other on the street, they wouldn’t turn around and walk the other way, they’d make a quick trot to the other. The two were happy, and they foresaw it would stay that way. Of course, they weren’t counting on their first child. Those were some crazy years—and I should know, I was there. . .. ... Oh, yes; I was the kid. It sucked. I mean, you know how families joke about the first kid being a trial-run? Well, it was more than true for us. My early life was hard, what with the "learning how to be a parent" part. Also, the many dirty diapers and interrupted nap-times. Not to mention a unicorn and an earth pony having a pegasus baby.... Being the firstborn is difficult, no matter what family you grow up in. I can only imagine what it’s like for only-foals... Either way, the first three years of my life were hectic. Then came my little sister. My baby sister. The little girl that took all the attention from me and let me begin developing independently. By the time I was eight and she was five I got my cutie mark. I started writing seriously, trying my hoof at different writing styles and genres. I wrote foal’s short stories, mostly, and I began submitting my work for publishing when I turned thirteen—and by that time my parents had another kid. A filly, again. I love her to death, and spoil her whenever I’m in town, but I sometimes get the feeling mom and dad don’t want me rubbing off on her. Maybe they think I’m a bad influence. And who’s fault is that, do you think? Either way, I still come by every once-in-a-while. I always bring a gift for my youngest sister and a couple bits for my older one. And, for my parents, I bring a hug and an update on my life. I’m the only one that doesn’t live in Ponyville, having moved to Manehattan to learn how to write good. Eh? See what I did there? Writer puns! I’m sorry. You see, I've had a fairly normal life. I have two loving parents, two adorable siblings, and a life I feel I’ve lived to the fullest—or, at the very least, one I don’t regret so far. I hope you’ll enjoy my story, because that’s what this story is. My Life. Author's Note I first tried to post this on December 25th, as a kind of "Christmas gift" to those that decided to stay with me throughout my absence. I ended up taking it down around new-year's when it still wasn't published by the approvers. I took this as a sign from the fates (referenced earlier in this very chapter) that I would eventually go back and edit it. Of course, why wait for the inevitable, right? Anyway, after four days of agonizing over it, I decided to take the advice my artist friends gave me about drawing and painting--to accept it with its imperfections. I'm sure there's words in places that could be different that would make the chapter give a feeling, or something, but I can't figure it out. I just hope I continue to grow, like I did when I wrote oh-so-long-ago.
