The Author

by Endeav0ur

Rating: everyone
Tags: Human, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Slice of Life
Length: 2429

Twilight Sparkle meets the author in a not-so-typical self-insert story.

The Author and Twilight Sparkle have an interesting discussion in the middle of a forest.

Published 2019-01-13 06:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-01-13 06:40:01 UTC

Chapter 1

It was a lovely day in Equestria. The sun shone brightly through the trees in a small clearing near the whitetail woods, where a young alicorn sat reading through some books that a friend had loaned her.

With her snout buried deep in the pages of her second book for the day, she hadn't noticed the tall being that sat down on a tree stump a few paces from her. The being showed no sign that he intended harm or malice and was content to simply watch the small purple pony read.

He noticed that the young pony's lips moved as though she was speaking, yet no sound came out as her eyes scanned the pages at a remarkable speed. And though the pony’s skill was a sight to behold, the being couldn't help but notice the world around him as well, in all its splendor.

He watched how the sun bounced off the trees that were only now beginning to blossom after a long winter. The flowers were in full bloom, letting their colors shine almost pompously, just as they had every right to. The vibrant colors around him gave the normally overgrown forest a mystical charm.

Where the trees danced and the flowers bloomed, they could not give the forest more life than the fauna had. Young squirrels and their families danced from branch to branch, chasing after the blue jays and sparrows who sang their songs to the masses. The forest was bustling with sound and motion, not far removed from that of a large city, although much more desirable.

The being's ruminations were cut short at the sound of a short gasp. As he looked towards the source of the noise, he noticed that the young pony he'd been watching had finished her book, and only just noticed her company. She was watching the being with her hoof over her chest, attempting to control her breathing.

Once she had regained her composure, she put a friendly smile on her face and greeted the tall stranger, "Hello, um, I'm Twilight Sparkle... um, how long have you been sitting there?" she asked, warily.

The stranger responded, "not long at all, I found you in the clearing and was about to move on when I noticed how beautiful it was here." He only half lied, the clearing was beautiful, but he had no intention of moving on.

"Oh, yes it's very beautiful here, it's been my favorite spot to come read in the spring and fall for a few years now. The sounds are all quite calming. Um, so, what's your name?" asked Twilight.

"Hmm," the stranger started, "I suppose you could call me The Author."

Twilight half chuckled at the mention of his obviously made up name, "If you don't mind my asking, why 'The Author'?" Twilight asked with a puzzled expression. She wondered why 'The Author' wouldn't simply use his real name.

"Anonymity for the most part, not for your sake of course, but I'm afraid my name doesn't quite fit in your world," The Author said, sounding too vague for Twilight's tastes.

"Not for my sake?" Twilight questioned, her confused expression deepened into a frown, "we're all alone here, whose sake would it be for? The trees?" she joked.

"Well, if I'm at all lucky Twilight, we're not alone at all, in fact, there could be hundreds here right now, listening, although I won't know that for sure for a while now" The Author responded.

"That doesn't make any sense… you're not making any sense," said Twilight, baffled by the thought of hundreds of ponies surrounding them, though she couldn’t see anyone nearby.

"No, I suppose it doesn't, not unless you have the right context I suppose," The Author said, attempting to be less vague for Twilight's sake.

"Well, what's the right context then?" Twilight said, her expression softening into one of curiosity. She had to admit she was giddy at the thought of learning something unexplainable.

"I suppose the easiest way to explain it is to simply bite the bullet. We're in a book Twilight, and I suppose you could call this one a self-insert, although that wouldn't be entirely correct. It's not your typical run of the mill self-insert, this one is different. The author made sure of that" said The Author. His expression remained soft, wary of Twilight's reaction.

Twilight expression reverted back to immense confusion. She said, "That's not possible. How could we be in a book? We're talking to each other right now, and that couldn't be possible if we were both in a book. I can hear the tone of your voice, and I can see your dark brown eyes and your dark hair, and the way your nostrils flare slightly when you breathe."

"Yes, I suppose you can see those things," said The Author, "but how are our thoughts and perceptions recorded? We write them down so that others can read our words and share our feelings. So, you could be seeing and hearing those things, but is it because you saw my hair? Or because the words told you that my hair was brown?"

Twilight pondered the question. Philosophy was never her strongest subject, it focused too much on the theoretical for her tastes. However, she thought she could see. She noticed how The Author's hair swayed and danced in the light breeze, and how his eyes would dilate almost imperceptibly as clouds moved in front of the sun.

Furthermore, she knew she was real. She could feel her heart beat in her chest, and she could see her own snout in the corners of her eyes. Twilight took a deep breath and savored the smells of the forest all around her, solidifying in her mind that the forest was real as well.

But what if what The Author said was true? What if all of those sensations were simply lines of text feeding her information? How could she know for sure that what she experienced was truly real? "If I'm not real, then how come I can still think and act like myself?" Twilight asked.

"Hmm," The Author pondered for a moment, "Well, in truth how do you know that the way you're acting right now is the way you're supposed to act? If you were in a book, your sense of self would be defined by the way the author portrayed you, would it not?"

"I suppose," Twilight replied, "and again, if I'm not real, then how come I can see so much detail in this forest?"

"Well, what can you see Twilight?" The Author asked, the slightest hint of a smug grin on his lips.

Twilight replied, "I can see the trees, the flowers, and all the animals jumping across the branches. Furthermore, I can hear the water flowing down the stream and I can hear the birds chirping and the leaves rustling; and I can smell the flowers and the forest around us too."

"But what else can you see Twilight?" The Author questioned further. The grin slowly creeping onto his face faded. In truth he didn't want to tell Twilight that she was in a book, as it would surely cause her great pain, knowing that her whole world was limited to the words on a page; and yet he couldn't help but answer the young alicorns questions.

He spoke again, "Can you see the sky above us? Can you see the clouds floating overhead? And can you feel the softness of the ground beneath you?"

Twilight looked up and appreciated the sky as if seeing it for the first time that day. She looked down and focused on the ground. She felt how it was soft and slightly damp underneath her, once again discovering something that she hadn't really noticed before.

But that was hardly concrete evidence, she thought. Things could easily slip a pony’s mind if they weren't thinking about them, especially if their snout was buried in a book not a few minutes ago. "That's hardly conclusive evidence to us being in a book," Twilight said, wanting to prove The Author wrong.

"You're right of course, Twilight," The Author admitted, "I suppose there's no real way to tell if your actions are being governed by an outside source, free will is such a fickle thing. And yet, what if I could truly prove it to you?"

Twilight didn't respond immediately. She was both intrigued and wary at The Author's proposition. If she could know for real if her actions were indeed her own, wouldn't that be a good thing? And yet, what if what The Author said was true? That her actions were not her own, would that knowledge be more of a burden than a relief?

Twilight made her decision. Given the choice between knowledge and ignorance, her choice would always be knowledge. "Ok", she said firmly, "show me."

The Authors expression softened into a slight frown. He didn't want to change her entire world view, but nevertheless, he had offered, and Twilight accepted.

Twilight stood up, involuntarily.

"What?" Twilight exclaimed, not expecting the sudden movement, and from her own body at that. Despite her surprise, she giggled in earnest, bringing a hoof to her mouth to stifle the gesture.

"I'm sorry," said The Author, as tears formed in Twilights eyes.

Twilight didn't know what to say, she hadn't meant to do either of those things, not of her own volition anyway. She sat back down, this time intentionally, and stared at her books.

The pages were blank, she noticed. The dark red cover held a small oval on the front but held no text inside, nothing legible in any case.

A single tear dripped onto the page she had been reading, a page that didn't have anything on it.

"I don't understand," Twilight said. It was a statement more than a question. "The pages are blank," she continued as she idly flipped through the pages using her magic.

"Yes, they are, because the author didn't write them," said The Author. It brought him no pleasure to see her like this, but it was necessary.

"But I was reading them a few minutes ago? Why are they blank now?" Twilight asked, even if the words were there, she couldn't read them through the tears staining her vision.

"Well," The Author started, "do you remember what you were reading before?"

Twilight thought back, but she couldn't recall what she had been reading, only that she was.

It took a few minutes before Twilight dried her eyes and spoke again, "So then what? If I'm just words on a page, then what do I do now? Will I just cease to exist when you stop writing?"

The Author thought carefully before he answered her question, "yes, and no. If you think about it, you're immortal Twilight."

"I'm already immortal, "Twilight interrupted, a small smile creeping onto her face.

The Author chuckled, "true, but when the author stops writing you won't cease to exist, you'll live on forever, in his words. It's true you won't do anything else after this, you won't even be able to perceive it, and don't ask me to describe that." The Author chuckled again, "but, Twilight Sparkle won't cease to exist."

Confusion once again found its way onto Twilight's expression. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, truth be told, you're not the author's character. You, I suppose, 'belong' to a different author. Ugh," The Author shook in frustration, "this isn't going to sound right, but the author is just borrowing you for a bit, to write another story."

"You're right, that doesn't sound right at all," Twilight shuddered at the thought of being passed around like a pen.

The Author continued, "You've been written by thousands of other authors in thousands of different scenarios. Heck, someone else has probably written something like this before."

Twilight ruffled her feathers, unable to shake the thought out of her head. However, another thought crossed her mind, "Author, why do you keep referring to yourself in the third-person?" she asked.

"Oh, that's an easy one, simply put, I'm not the author of this story," The Author answered, adopting some of Twilights unsettled features. "I'm what the author of this story decided to write himself as. It's like if you went to a party with a bunch of your friends and then went to another party with a bunch of people you didn't know. You would act differently at each party, if only just. I'm what the author thinks of himself as if he were in a book."

Twilight pondered the thought for a moment, then replied, "So if that's true, does that mean that I'm not the 'real' Twilight Sparkle? Am I just... Twilight, but how the author sees me?"

"Well, yes I suppose." The Author replied.

"Huh," Twilight thought, "wait a minute, you said that thousands of people wrote about me. Um, why me? If you don't mind my asking." Twilight said, her cheeks reddening slightly.

"Not at all Twilight, not at all," The Author said, "personally, the author really liked your character and he thought that it would fit best out of all the characters he had to choose from for this story. And why everyone else writes you? I can't say why exactly they all choose you, but I can say that all of them really like you too."

Twilight was blushing in earnest now, the thought of thousands of people knowing her and actually liking her enough to put her into their own stories was especially embarrassing, even as it made her swell with pride.

The Author stood up suddenly. "Oh my, I guess it's time," He said.

"What? Time for what?" Twilight asked, confusion written on her face.

The Author smiled reassuringly. "The stories come to its end," he said.

"Oh," Twilight replied, her ears drooped down, and she stared at the ground. She took another moment to appreciate the forest around her. Just then a flower sprouted out of the ground she was looking at; a small lotus blossom grew before her.

The Author plucked it out of the ground and placed it in Twilight's mane, "don't look so down Twilight, there's every possibility we'll see each other again, although I can't see the author making a habit of these self-insert stories." Said The Author, chuckling to himself.

Twilight let a small smile creep its way onto her face, "I look forward to meeting you again then, Author."

The Author took Twilight's hoof in his hand, "I can't wait, Twilight."