Uhh, hi. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve erased this and started over. It’s a wonder there’s any room left to write on this page anymore, with all the smudge marks and the like (Erasers are the greatest invention ever!).

I’m at a bit of a loss of what to write about. It’s so much easier when Twilight tells me what to write. I know Rainbow keeps a journal - I found it under her bed when she asked me to pet-sit her tortoise, Tank. There was a lot of naughty stuff in it but it looked like she just wrote her thoughts out, so that’s what I’m going to do (sans the naughty bits).

So, I’ve had this idea floating around my head: a book! More specifically, writing one. Who is it going to be about? Me. Twilight says that you write best when you know what you’re writing about, and I figured I know myself better than most other subjects, so why not write about me! It sounds vain now that I think about it, but whatever, I guess.

It goes like this: I, Spike the Noble Knight of Canterlot, will train under the tutelage of Sir Lancelot to save the fair maiden Rarity of Ponyville from the evil clutches of the Dragon Lord Murolth. I couldn’t really think of a title for it but it sounds pretty cool right! At least Sweetie Belle thought so when I told her. Speaking of her, she’s been acting really strange lately - shy almost. But I’m getting off track.

Since I live with the bookiest bookworm I know, I figured I could get Twilight to help me write it, but she’s been gone. She received an ‘urgent’ message from Princess Celestia - something about a rock? Twilight didn’t tell me much before she left with the rest of the gang. Maybe I’ll surprise her with it when she comes back! Yeah… that sounds like a plan.

I thi—

The rest of the page was missing, downsized to bits of mangled chad. Little could be determined from the remains - that being a pile of ashes. Hooves wrapped themselves over the fragile writings, carefully lifting it into a small burlap sack beside her.

A small stack of papers sat next to it, with various exaggerated, costume-clothed caricatures dancing to their written words across the lengths of the pages. They were still in the trial and error phase; still sketches, but precise and finely detailed regardless. The work of a practiced artist - comic books. Priceless.

They were also thrown in with the journal, filling the sack further.

Now down to the last item of interest: A skeletonized pair of claws that clung desperately to a large, fine-cut diamond. Upon further examination, they were found to be clutching it into a tiny ribcage. She had to pry hard on the brittle bone to loosen the stone enough to be extracted.

It too was deposited inside the sack with the journal and comic books. The container still remained pitfully empty despite that, the rough canvas folds crumpling down on themselves.

Nothing else caught her eye. Between the rotting, moss-ridden bookshelves and the cobweb-filled ceiling space, there was not much left to garner interest.

She levitated a small slip of paper out of her bag with a pencil to accompany it. After it unfolded, she quickly jotted down a few notes before returning them to her bag:

I didn’t find much in the Library, just a teen’s half-destroyed journal and some hand-drawn comic books. I’ll check the schoolhouse next. It’s the last place in this town I haven’t scavenged through, and if I don’t find what I’m looking for there, I’ll start making my way to that big city on the side of the mountain.

Note: There was a very expensive looking diamond as well but it doesn't have any value beyond what ponies have assigned to it (Possibly Trade?). At the moment, there are no ponies around to buy much of anything let alone a multi-k bit diamond. Maybe one of those dumb wooden wolves in the forest will choke on it if I throw it into its mouth. Knife-sharp diamonds make for deadly chew toys.

-Harmony

With that done, she extricated himself from the congregation of shelves she was sitting at and made her way out the way she had come in: a massive hole in the side of the building, or rather tree - a treehouse, she supposed.

The sunless daylight warmed her body, lighting the way for her to make her way to her next destination: The schoolhouse.

Author's Note

Depending on how this does, and how the next few weeks of my life unfold, I will continue this. Just want to get all my writing ideas out there lest I die or something.