Learning to Have Fun Again

An unassuming room. It contained only a bed, a lamp, a nightstand, a bookshelf, and a desk. Two doors sat at opposite corners of the room, leading to either a closet or a hallway. The finishing touches were the bare walls: nothing but a calendar uneasily pinned in the middle of one of them, and a single window.

In the top center of the room laid the bed, twin sized. To the right of it stood a nightstand with a clock, forever imposing its sole presence on it.

A clock has two purposes. The first is to track and indicate the present time. It allows those in need of it a quick reference to the exact hour, minute, and often second of the day. The second purpose is unique to certain types of clocks, those of which are armed with the ability to emit a near-deafening screech at any specified moment.

This clock in particular fell in the latter category. Its passive movement was the source of all sound in the area. It moved uninterrupted as it proceeded to track the linear direction of time, waiting for the right moment.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

*RING* *RING* *RI—*

A brown hoof immediately shot out from the side to silence the noisy offender.

In the center of the room, Button Mash groggily sat up from his bed, his ears ringing and his eyes heavy as if they were being pulled down by five pound weights. He darted his eyes towards his alarm. '9:30 AM', it read. Still recovering from his recent slumber, he continued to search around his barren room. Upon his vision landing on the calendar across from him, he groaned at the date as it stared mockingly back at him.

'Friday: October 31st, Nightmare Night. Public Holiday.'

"Why do I keep forgetting to soundproof my room for days like this," he grumbled.

Aware of the special holiday, he decided to check the status of the town. He rose from his bed, approached the window, and peered through the curtains. Traces of condensation were visible on each corner of it. Once the ringing in his head ceased, he listened closely and noticed the silence outside aside from the chirping of the occasional bird.

Finally looking beyond the window, he was met with rows of medium-sized wooden houses. A few foals roamed around the area, likely charting efficient routes for candy-retrieval. Some mares and stallions were also calmly hurrying around, as to covertly finish their last-minute errands before tonight's yearly event. He duly noted the low level of activity in his neighborhood.

Then there was the fact that he couldn't see anything beyond a couple of meters; light grey fog thickly veiled the town. Given the circumstances today, it was oddly calming rather than unnerving. Ultimately, it was a cold, foggy, yet calm Ponyville.

Looks like Nightmare Night has its work cut out for it. He headed towards the hallway and into the nearest bathroom.

Turning on the lights, the bathroom was illuminated with a dim yellow tone. At the faucet, Button reached for his toothbrush, prepared the toothpaste, and brushed away. He took a look at the mirror and observed his appearance.

Clear amber eyes with slight bags underneath stared back at him. He saw himself, a teenage colt with a dishevelled two-tone orange mane, a toothbrush in his mouth, and a spotless flank.

Button silently acknowledged his mirror counterpart and resumed brushing back and forth. His eyes slowly opened as the strength of the minty toothpaste began to hit him.

With his morning hygiene completed, Button descended to the kitchen downstairs and was greeted by the sight of a sandwich on the table with a note laying next to it. His stomach suddenly rumbling, he darted to the table and read the note.

'Out for errands to prepare for tonight, there's a sandwich on the table for you.'

He raised his eyebrows at the note's contents. Errands? We never do anything for Nightmare Night. Shrugging off the note, Button grabbed and ate his sandwich in silence.

A clock marched onwards as it hung high on the kitchen walls. Bite after bite, tock after tick, the same taste in rhythm with the same sound. With his sandwich finished, he returned upstairs to his room.

From the doorway, he beelined to his shelf, gathered various notebooks and textbooks, and sat himself at the desk right next to his window. He opened a textbook titled 'Abridged Guide to 4th Level Advanced Mathematics by Cheerilee', and scribbled away into his notebook.

This was his routine. This was his life.

Although today was Nightmare Night, to Button Mash it made no difference.