The dim glow of light from her room's lamp flickered and danced across the walls. Moondancer sighed and gently closed the door. She made her way up the impossibly steep stairs and inhaled sharply as the cool, night air invaded her lungs. She walked the short, well-trodden path to her usual place and plopped down on her haunches. Some books sat alone in the dark, showing various degrees of use. A few old favourites lay near the bottom of the pile, sticky notes protruding from their pages, the sheet edges brown from years of use. She gazed at them lovingly before turning and lying down on her back.
The endless night sky stretched out before her. The view was truly breathtaking, without a single cloud to obscure the litany of stars that struggled to light up their respective corners of the darkness. A few months ago she may have smiled at this; indeed, the corners of her mouth fought upward, but she willed them down. It didn't feel right to smile anymore.
The thought of those massive balls of gas surrounded by an even larger mass of blackness, urging their light outward to her little speck in space had seemed romantic to her. It still did, she supposed. Huge wonders of nature trying their utmost to project their existence to whomever might be watching. If they could do it then so could she, right? She could burn bright too.
Come on, Moondancer! Just come out with us this one time, we haven't seen you in ages.
No, that's alright. I'm behind in my studies as it is. Thanks, though.
...Okay.
Moondancer winced as Minuette's face drifted through her consciousness. They had been such good friends. How had it come to this?
Of course, she knew the answer. Not daring to think it, though, she turned over on her side, fighting to keep the tears from forming. The wooden boards of the deck were rough and scuffed at her face. She crooked one of her hooves up to rest her cheek. She stared at nothing in particular as thoughts sluggishly drifted in and out of her head. She imagined a tiny flame burning inside her, like one of those small oil lamps that the ponies in the legends she read about might have used. The wick was dangerously short and the oil running low. It didn't look like any would be added to replenish it either. Not anytime soon anyway.
Moondancer remembered when it had burnt like a hearty campfire, tendrils of flame reaching up to the sky. Constanly stoked, always hungry for fuel. And she remembered how agonizingly long it took to shrink. Friendships, like fire, required a certain level of care and maintenance. She imagined herself curled around the small flame, no longer trying to restore it to its former glory, but only wishing, desperately, that it wouldn't go out. She scrunched her nose, keenly self-aware and feeling very foolish. This kind of self-indulgent thinking was still relatively new to her, but she had found herself its victim more and more often in recent months.
She grunted in frustration and rolled to her other side, revealing a view of her neighbourhood. It was late; the busy streets were now empty and only a few windows remained lit. Lonely ponies like herself, she wondered.
Oh hey, Moondancer.. How've you been?
That same bubbly voice. She used to find it grating and absurd, but now it was a welcome intrusion.
I'm okay. Just me and my books, you know how it is.
I'm not okay, she mouthed to no pony in particular.
Her mind drifted back to the books that now sat behind her. She had once found comfort between their covers. Books were predictable. She had only to glance at the back cover to see how many pages remained. She knew when they started, she knew when they would end. They offered structure in an otherwise unstructured life. And she clung to them. Their characters became her friends, her closest confidants. But...
She pursed her lips.
They could never be a substitute for the real thing. Once she had lied to herself and insisted that was the talk of non-literate, unlearned ponies. There wasn't a damn thing on Celestia's green earth that couldn't be recreated with perfect clarity between the pages of a book. That's what she'd told herself, at least.
It was heartbreaking when she realized it: that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many hours she pored over its pages, a book could never talk back. She had begun to view it as one striking up a conversation with a mirror. It felt so obvious and so stupid. It was a book. A bundle of wood pulp, strung together by a machine. The thing that brought it to life in her mind was her. Her consciousness. She bit her lip in contempt. Stupid, stupid, she thought to herself. The things that did matter, her friends, her relationships, she had willingly allowed to slip between her hooves.
Oh we don't talk to her much anymore. Just kind of drifted apart, I guess.
A pause in speech, something unheard.
Yeah it's a shame, but that's life. It happens.
A different voice now.
I do hope she's okay, though. Shouldn't we at least say hi?
Another unheard reply, then the ponies walked away.
Her ears burned and her cheeks grew hot at the memory. She pushed herself onto her back and looked skyward. The moon's pale blue face stared back at her. Maybe tonight her friends were staring at it as well. Though she couldn't articulate why, she hoped that they were.
Why hadn't Twilight come to her party?
Moondancer had read enough to know better. Repeating this monologue ad nauseam wasn't healthy. But she couldn't help it. Despite how hurtful these thoughts were, the frequency of the hurt provided its own comfort in an odd sort of way. It was something she had learned to depend on.
The hours she had spent on preparations. The hopeful looks she had shot at her parents. Her brow crinkled in disgust. What a foo- she wouldn't allow herself to complete the sentence. She recalled an image of her standing, alone, in a room full of streamers with a lone piece of cake that her parents had cut for her.
She conjured up Twilight's ghostly image in her head. Did it all mean nothing to her? Years of sitting beside each other in class. Countless hours spent in the library. Book recommendations. Late night study sessions. Had it all meant so little to her? Did I mean so little?
A tear rolled down one of her cheeks, its watery streak hot on her skin. She hugged herself with her hooves, pulling her sweater tight around her. The darkness of her eyelids had become oppressive; she slowly parted them to look, once again, at the night sky above. She gasped with a suddeness she hadn't expected. Her body tremored and tears began to drip down her cheeks and patter on the wood below.
She brought her hooves to her face in an attempt to hide the display, though she knew no pony was watching. Her mouth opened and a raspy wail escaped her lips.
Why does it have to be this way? Why am I like this?
The shaking became worse and she pressed her face into her hooves. Please make this stop, her mind whispered.
A lone dog, roused from sleep by her cries, barked in the distance.
It was her fault! The thought slammed into her mind with earth-shattering force. She had sabotaged her friendships. She had pushed away the ponies that cared. Minuette, Twinkleshine, and Lemon Hearts. They had been just as upset as she was when Twilight neglected to show up. But she had dismissed them. Her only friends. Ponies that cared enough to still whisper about her when they saw her after months of being blown off. Her mind spiraled frantically.
Eventually the tremors subsided and the tears stopped. She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily.
They had truly loved her. Visions of their smiles and warmth hurtled through her head, but she was too worn out to react. She allowed these images to race in front of her for a time. A tiny thought crept in before she could stamp it out. Perhaps they still loved her.
This glimmer of hope threatened to light her face up with a smile. The possibility of reconciliation weighed as heavy in her mind as the possibility that she would finally know, for certain, that things had irreversibly changed.
No. This was not something she felt like dredging up tonight. She was too tired.
But, the thought persisted. Could it be... that a simple conversation... could set things right? Maybe they'd welcome her back? Maybe... just, maybe...
Maybe tomorrow.
Her mind snapped shut like a trap. She rolled over and hugged herself as the corners of her consciousness allowed themselves to be overtaken by sleep. Her face drained of all emotion and her eyes slowly shut.
Before sleep took her, her mind returned to the image of her curled around the small lamp. She shivered in the encroaching darkness, eyes never leaving the tiny glow. Her little flame flickered, sheltered as it was from the faint wind that would either snuff it out or help it burn brighter.
Author's Note
Another story rescued from the depths of my old thumb drive!
According to the word file, I wrote this back in May 2018 and, like many of my stories from that time, I promptly forgot about it. 
This was a sort of examination of some feelings I was dealing with at the time, mixed with Moondancer's backstory.
Thanks for making it to the end, I hope you enjoyed it!
If you liked it, please let me know in a comment below. It means more to me than you might think. 
I do have some much bigger things in the works, but it may be quite some time before you see them. In the meantime I have a couple more old short stories that I will upload soon, though they are of a different tone from anything else I've written. In any case, hope to see you again soon!
