You let out a soft sigh as you put your favourite book back on its spot on the bookshelf. Oh how you loved reading in your living room recliner. It was just the right amount of soft and giving; enough to make you feel like you're not sitting on a lump of wood, but not too much to make you feel like you're being devoured. Great thing, your recliner is. You glance at the grandfather clock you've nestled in one of the corners of your living room. Half-past weird squiggle. That's no good—you're going to be late to work! Up in a flash you grab your only pair of boots and coat, putting them on quickly before all but sprinting out your front door. Twilight is going to kill you!
As your front door swings open at a near hinge-shattering speed, the library's interior shows itself before you. "That was a close one," you exclaim out loud, shutting the door behind you and taking a long swig of the coffee cup you've found in your right hand. Gross, it tastes like ocean water. Must've made the wrong brand this morning. With a shrug you make your way over to your work station,—literally any spot someone needing help could easily find you—attempting to throw away the cup along the way, only to find it already gone. Score.
You plonk yourself down in one of the comfy chairs in view of the door and begin to read the conveniently placed book on the table next to you, How to Contribute to Society, an all-time favourite of yours. Double score. Twilight must've put it there. She knows you get really bored because not all too many peo….er ponies visit the library. She's really considerate sometimes. You know, when she's not being a weird book nerd.
You fly through the book, the pages upon pages of indiscernible squiggles and blurry pictures soaking into your brain for what seems like the millionth time in your life. God this book was great. You could spend the rest of your life with this book, and this book alone, and you'd be fine. It could even say your name!
…
Say your name?
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you close the book and look at its cover with a look of pure concentration. You could've swore you just heard your name come from the book. You give the book a good look over. You check the spine, flip the pages, closely examine the cover, only to come to one conclusion. This was just an ordinary book, through and through. Were you insane? You were certainly starting to think so. You give a quick shrug--more to assure yourself than anything--and gently put the book back on the table where you found it.
Anonnnnnn
Your head snaps back towards the source of the feminine whisper, giving it a startled stare. You had definitely heard it that time! You weren't crazy after all! You quickly snatch the book back from the table and give it another good stare.
Anonnnnn
The voice was definitely coming from the book, you were sure of it! What exactly is this thing? Are you in possession of a ghost book? Did Twilight snatch this from some poor pony's grave? Why would she do that?! More importantly, why was she trying to curse you! What the fuck Twilight, what'd I do? With a startled cry you attempt to toss the book across the entirety of the library, only to have it hit a bookshelf a few feet from you. Your hours upon hours of grueling tee-ball practice were for naught.
Owww Anon, that hurt
The book hadn't liked that. You've angered a ghost trapped in a book. You haven't been briefed on what to do in this situation. How do you survive an angry spirit? Do you fight an angry spirit? How do spirits work? You hadn't a clue! These were all an absolute mystery to you! If you survive this you are sooo asking for a raise.
Anonnn, wake up, I think you're having a nightmare
Completely ignoring the book for the moment, you flip one of the wooden tables scattered about and dramatically dive behind it. This was surely an obstacle no book could overcome, ghost or not. You peer over the makeshift anti-book bunker, only to find that the book hadn't moved at all. You quickly duck back into cover, not wanting to tempt the book with your vulnerable face. God you were a genius. The book had no idea how to react; you've stumped it!
You remained crouched against the underside of the table for quite a couple of minutes with your fist cocked and ready, just waiting for any signs of movement outside of your safe haven. All was quiet. It hasn't spoke at all and you were getting nervous. Maybe it really was a normal book and you were just absolutely mental. You'd have to book an appointment with a psychiatrist.
You brace yourself and take another daring look over your table. The book has gone! It was no longer against the bookshelf! That couldn't be good at all, your bunker could be compromised! You rapidly glance left to right in an attempt to clear the immediate area. There was nothing.
ANON, WAKE UP!
Suddenly the book, which'd somehow managed to stay just above your field of vision, throws itself at your face, the pages splayed open and twisted to vaguely form a mouth and complimentary teeth.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Startled, you throw yourself back to get away from the leather-bound assailant, managing to knock yourself off your feet and straight onto your ass in the process. Your position has been compromised! In a bout of quick thinking, you throw your arms around your head, shielding yourself from the papery maw of the sentient book, and let out a primal yell (scream). You know, to scare the thing away.
"AHHHHHHHH"
ANON WHAT'S WRONG!?
"AHHHHH"
"ANON, PLEASE STOP!"
"Ahhh?"
"Are you okay!?"
You cautiously open one of your eyes and peer through a gap between the arms wrapped around your face, only to find the handful of familiar furniture pieces of your living room. How'd you end up back in your house in your recliner? Did the book have magic? What kind of bullshit is that? It's already a ghost, why did it need magic? That's OP man, totally unfair.
"Anon? You're awake now right? Thank goodness you're okay!" says a feminine voice near your lap.
…
Lyra?
You slowly unwrap your arms from your head and look down, immediately finding a pair of amber eyes and concerned pony facial features staring into your own. She had propped her forelegs up on your thighs and stood on her hind legs, allowing her to almost look at you face-to-face.
"Anon?" Lyra says, tilting her head slightly to the side like a confused puppy. Realizing you were staring, you give your head a quick shake to rid of any residual thoughts. They'd have to take backseat for now. Pony interaction first, brain interaction later.
"Yup."
Nailed it.
"Are you okay? You looked like you were having a nightmare." She says, her big, expressive eyes brimming with concern and slight confusion.
"Oh, um yeah, it was probably a nightmare." That would make sense wouldn't it—you'd never botch coffee like you had in your dream. You're not a barbarian. "I'm doing fine though, no need to worry about little ol' me. Just a nightmare, is all."
"Are you sure? Nightmares are really scary, Anon!"
"Fairly certain. I'm a big boy, I think I can handle a nightmare" That came out far more aggressive than you had intended. Whoops. You clear your throat and look away from her eyes, the prolonged eye contact proving too awkward a thing for you to handle properly. Why was she even that close to your face anyway?
"If you say so Anon," she says with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. You feel the pressure against your thighs disappear as she returns to having all four hooves on the carpeted ground. You sigh inwardly. This you could handle. No pony inches from your face, no problem. You look back to Lyra, who was now floating a fancy, cloth-covered wicker basket through your kitchen to her side. "Wanna eat lunch with me?" She says through a grin that stretches ear-to-ear. You sit up from your recliner in record speeds. You could hardly say no. You were always hungry after naps.
"Absolutely." You say as you lead the way towards the kitchen.
"Great! I'll set the table." Lyra squees and delightedly follows you into your kitchen. You could've swore she was skipping, however four-legged creatures do that. It was adorable.
What a strange mare.
…
How'd she get into your house?
Author's Note
Hello friends. To be honest, I haven't a clue what to put here. Hope you enjoyed? Dunno. Anyway, this is my first piece of creative writing so I hope for--and honestly expect--criticism, constructive or not. Let us both hope it builds character and writing prowess. Godspeed.
