"Before we begin, I would just like to say how much of an honor it is to finally meet you, Miss. Belle."
"No, it was my pleasure. I just wished we could speak in somewhere that was a little more... quaint," I said, sparing a glance at the small diner from the booth the two of us sat in, with two small mugs of coffee between us on the table. The reporter gave a small snort of amusement as he sipped his steaming mug.
"You sound old when you say it like that," he said with a small smile. "Personally, I like the place. Reminds me of home, you know?"
I frowned as I gave another glance at the small diner and the few patrons inside. The smell of toast and eggs filled the air, causing my stomach to remind me that I hadn't eaten breakfast before coming here.
"I guess," I said, once again facing the reporter with a small frown adorning my face. "And I'm not that old," I said with a huff, folding my forelegs over my chest. The reporter gave a lighthearted chuckle at my actions, making me glare daggers at him. He immediately cleared his throat before once again speaking.
"Ehem, at any rate, we should get to the main topic of our meeting in the first place, correct?" he asked. I gave a nod in agreement as I used my magic to lift my mug and gently blew on the steam before taking a small sip.
"I agree," I said. The man nodded, and pulled out a small notebook and a ballpoint pen from inside his jacket. Clearing his throat, he gave me a confident smile.
"Now, as you are well aware, I work for The New York Times, and I was kinda wondering if you could tell me about the events during the Second World War. Specifically the events that took place in Germany. I briefly wondered if my teeth were going to crack from the force of my clenched jaw as I continued to stare at him, and felt my left eye give a slight twitch.
"Excuse me?" I asked through gritted teeth, my eyes narrowing in anger. The man bit his botttom lip, and tried to avoid my gaze.
"Miss. Belle, I—" I cut him off by slamming my mug on the table, causing the coffee within to splash onto the polished wooden surface.
"You said this interview was going to be about my time here in America. Not my time in Germany," I said, shaking my head in disappointment. "The only reason I don't tell anyone about my arrival to your world is because every time I do, some big shot from Hollywood wants to make it either into a false documentary or a big blockbuster hit that'll show nothing but a bunch of stupid explosions." I made a move to exit the booth, but felt the man's hand grasp my left foreleg. I glared at him with my horn lit up, daring him to make another move.
"Miss. Belle, I'm sorry I lied to you, but I can assure you that I'm not one of those kinds of people." I frowned as I continued to stare at him, trying to discern if he was telling the truth.
"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked slowly. The man took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and slowly let it out while releasing his hold on my foreleg.
"Because I'm a man who searches for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I want to share your story on the trials of war, and unravel the biggest mystery that everyone has been wondering since you arrived." He released a heavy sigh as he continued. "Look, I know those days must've been hell for you, and if you still don't want me to publish the story, I can respect that. Just, think about it for a second. It'll probably help you with releasing some major stress, and possibly get the press off your back.
I gave a frown as I slowly thought on his words. While it would be nice to wake up and leave the comfort of my home without the press constantly asking me a ton of questions, I wasn't so sure on it being able to help me with releasing my stress. I stared at the reporter's expectant face, pen and pad at the ready.
"Alright, I'll tell you." The man's grin broadened at my answer, and he seemed about to go into what must've been all the questions running through his head. However, I held him back by raising a hoof towards him. "But, while I'm telling you on what happened. I want you to answer a question when I'm finished, alright?"
The man frowned in confusion for a second, before giving a light shrug. "Eh, why not?" he said with a smile.
"If our roles were reversed, would you have made the same decision I did?"
His frown deepened, and I watched as his brow nitted together in concentration. "Miss. Belle, I don't understand the question." I gave a sly smirk as I used my magic to clean the spilled drink, and asked a passing waitress to refill my mug.
"That's why I told you to answer it when I'm done." The man gave a nod in confirmation, and began his questions.
"Miss, Belle, is it possible you can give us an idea on what it was like your first night? Set the stage, if you will." I tried to resist the urge to chuckle at his first question.
"Are you a man of dramatics?" I asked, hiding my smile with a hoof. The man simply shrugged in responce.
"Just a bit," he said with a sheepish expression on his face. I gave a nod, and let out a heavy sigh as the memories of that first night flooded my mind. Closing my eyes, I took in a shaky breath, held it in for a second, and slowly let it out. After a few seconds of doing this, I began to speak in a slightly quivering voice.
"My name is Sweetie Belle, and my story begins with a dream, or rather, a nightmare."
