Odd's Oubliette: Otherwise Obsolete Oddities

by Odd_Shot

Rating: everyone
Tags: Bat Pony, Adventure, Human, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Drama, Original Character
Length: 27370

An anthology of short, possibly sweet, completely incomplete, and easily beat stories from the latest and greatest in horseword pioneering.

An anthology intended for those already interested in my work, and a dumping ground for stuff I won’t publish on its own (at least in its current form).

They never said being a horsewordist was going to be easy.

Published 2020-12-06 09:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-01-12 22:18:51 UTC

DR2: Meeting Aura Gleam, Guardsmare; and Dusk Ruby exploration

DR2 (Incomplete)

The story wasn’t a long one to tell, and after the first few minutes of explaining how I’d run into Dusk Ruby, Aura Gleam relented her position at the front desk to another guard and led me deeper into the station.

“It’s uh, a little intimidating to be in an interrogation room.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jim. It’s not like I’m cuffing you to the table or anything like that.”

“Uh huh…”

Aura Gleam shut the door to the room with another burst of light from her horn. I would have questioned the unicorn about the display if I hadn’t been occupied with inspecting the interrogation room. The heavy stone door did not reflect the homey nature of the room inside; wooden panels lined the walls, ceiling, and floor, and a healthy-looking potted houseplant sat steadfast in the pot in the furthest corner of the room. There was even a small glass window at the top of the wall that allowed sunlight to pour in. Several posters adorned the walls, and they all featured ponies in several situations that reminded me very much of the style of ‘Hang in there!’ posters.

In the center of the room was a short wooden table flanked by opposing red cushions. Gleam stepped behind the pillow away from the door and gestured at the other. “Take a seat.”

I sat cross-legged in the chair while Gleam set her own rump down and began setting her papers out once again. “So… Jim. Can I get a full name for the record?”

“Jim Miller.”

“Do you prefer Jim or Miller?”

“Jim, please.”

“Alright…” Gleam’s quill glowed in its vibrant yellow emission as it crossed over several pages. The same glow flipped through the pages swiftly as Gleam read quietly. Eventually, she seemed satisfied, and the quill set down in the pot of ink, and the yellow glow disappeared from everything.

“Everything good?” I asked her.

“Well,” Gleam began as her hoof slid the stack of papers off to the side. “From what I’ve heard, you’re no citizen of any country around here, so we’ll talk about our options after I hear everything you have to say.”

I blinked. “What more is there to hear?”

“First of all, you're a non-Equestrian citizen with no diplomatic ties whatsoever. What that essentially means is that you're at the mercy of the Crown, which is a position you wouldn't have if you'd shown up in Equestria a few years ago, but I digress. The big things I need to hear from you are what your intentions are in Equestria, and how long you plan on staying.”

My visage curled involuntarily. “But I didn't even want to come to Equestria.”

Gleam sighed. “Regardless, I need to know what you're thinking before I can let you leave the station again. It's nothing personal, Jim.”

I shrugged. “I guess I just want to get out of your hair as soon as possible. I want to stay for as short a time as I can.”

“You don't seem too eager to do that,” Gleam said.

I was quiet for a second. “What do you mean?”

Gleam shrugged. “You just don't sound too committed about going back. You want to stay in Equestria, don't you?”

I hesitated.

“Jim?”

“Maybe a little part of me,” I answered. “Honest. It's a nice place here. It reminds me of home, but in a… better light.” I took a deep breath. “But I know I'm not supposed to be here. I was in a real accident, and I survived and recovered. I need to get back to Earth.”

Gleam looked at me, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. She tapped the stack of papers with a hoof. “Right now, we're talking off-record. You can say whatever you want to me.”

I looked down. “This place is like… one big daydream. Mountain climbing has been my escape for the longest time, and now that I don't have to worry about big things… I…” I shook my head. “I have friends back home. I shouldn't be thinking about this.”

“Do you have any family?” she asked me.

“No,” I answered immediately. “Nobody who matters.”

“What about a special somepony? Somepony waiting for you?”

I looked up and shook my head. “Nope. And I plan on keeping it that way.”

“Pffh,” she waved her hoof dismissively. “You probably just haven't met the right pony.”

I laughed quietly. “I doubt if I'll ever meet someone like that.”

“I wouldn't call it so early. Plenty of mares out there looking for a stallion who can hold his own.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I sighed and shook my head. “Listen, corporal. I just want to know who I can talk to about getting out of Equestria and back to where I came from. We've established that this is not the same planet. I want to be in Equestria for as short a time as possible, and I want to go back home.”

“We'll see,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. Gleam slid the papers over to me. “I'm going to walk you through this, alright? Let me know if you can't use a quill.”

I took the papers, and we began.

We spent about two hours in that room going over the documents. Most of them reminded me of filling out naturalization and citizenship forms, but there were very specific questions that were far from the norm: there were constant mentions of ‘tribes’ for ponies, and sections dedicated to talking about what ‘nature of magic’ I ‘specialized’ in and how a ‘cutie mark’ related to said specializations. On each page was a section dedicated to writing down my ‘race’, and each time I wrote ‘Human’, I felt more at odds with reality.

Eventually, we reached the end of the documents, and Gleam packed up and left me in the room. She returned a time later.

“I've got you down for nonimmigrant status, now. You're going to have to go pick up a permit from the Fillydelphia Courthouse. I'll be taking you there.”

“But I don’t need a status,” I protested. “I just want to find someone who can help me get back home.”

“We don't have a protocol for this kind of situation, Jim. Nopony ever expected a foreign national to slip into the country without a… verified homeland. My superiors said that I was to go with you, so I'm your escort.”

“Fine,” I relented with a heavy sigh. "Let's go.”

The two of us left the station and set out for the courthouse. We had to stop multiple times for Gleam to explain mundane pedestrian signs to me—which was ‘just policy’ to her—but we eventually arrived at the rather imposing building. I imagined that there would be more security around their government buildings, but Equestria seemed to lack that, for better or for worse.

We went through the front door and into the main lobby. A secretary pony directed us to the non-judicial section of the building. With Aura Gleam speaking up as necessary, I walked out of the building nearly an hour later with several brochures for tourists to Equestria and Fillydelphia, and a bundle of legal documents that provided me with legal rights during my stay in Equestria.

“Well, that was easy,” I said.

“Considering the situation? Yeah, things could’ve been worse. There's still the matter of the permit, though.”

“Of course there’s more,” I groaned.

“A little,” she laughed. Her face turned serious, though. “But it's important. You mess up once out here, and you won't be let off with just a warning. Your permit will be revoked, and you’ll be placed in a cell for a good long while before your case processes.”

“Stay clean,” I affirmed. “Got it. One last question, though.”

The unicorn nodded. “Go ahead.”

“If there’s nobody in the… system, who can help me get back home, do you know anybody who can?”

Her helmet levitated off of her head with a flicker of her magic, and she ran a hoof through her mane. “I really wouldn’t know where to start, honestly. I’ve done a little research into more complex spells in my spare time, but never have I seen a spell that would require as much energy as it would take to move matter from beyond Celestia’s sun. I don’t even think a grimoire would have a spell capable of taking you back home, and those books contain illegal spells, to boot. The only ponies I could recommend you seeking help with are the princesses.” Aura Gleam sighed and slid her helmet back on. She offered her hoof to me with a smile. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but if it’s any consolation…” I took her hoof, and we shook. “Welcome to Equestria, Jim. Stay out of trouble, and I hope you find what you're looking for.”

“Thank you, Gleam. I’ll see you around.”

With one last departing nod, the armored guardsmare trotted off in the direction of Fillydelphia Station, leaving me alone in front of the courthouse.

I sat on a bench for a moment, just taking it all in. I had no idea where to start. There was so much knowledge, so much information. So I figured I would try to start with the most obvious lead.

I stowed my new papers in my bag, tightened my straps, and made for 657 Evening Crest Road.

I stood awkwardly outside of Dusk Ruby’s door. She hadn’t answered immediately, and repeated attempts with the knocker didn’t produce any new results. A few of the neighbors living in the duplex gave me odd looks as they went up and down the stairwell in the center of the building, but I stayed resolute in my spot next to Ruby’s door.

One of the ponies—a pegasus mare coming down from the third floor—paused on my level and looked me up and down.

“You a friend of Ruby?”

I was a bit caught off-guard. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m a friend of Dusk’s.”

The mare relaxed. “Ah, alright then. Well, she’s usually asleep by now. The door’s not locked, so you can go ahead and let yourself in.”

I furrowed my brow and eyed the door. “Is it?” The door clicked as I turned the knob. I looked back at the mare. “Should I even…?”

She shrugged. “Better than standing out here. Have a nice day.” The raspy-voiced mare gave me a crooked smile and headed for the last flight of stairs.

I gave the mare my thanks and turned back to the door. I took a breath and eased the door to Dusk Ruby’s apartment open.

The room was dimly lit by a few small candles adorning the tables and shelves. Dusk Ruby lay on a bed in the corner of the room. The covers were tossed back, leaving Dusk exposed, and a half-empty bottle labeled ‘Nightfire’ was laying on the floor a few feet away from the bed. Her steady snores filled the room as I shut the door behind me and inspected the rest of the apartment.

A small kitchen was to the left by the apartment's only window, and two pony-sized chairs took residence there. In another corner, a desk covered in papers covered one half of a small workspace, and a bookshelf filled the other half. A dresser with several drawers and a few other pieces of furniture—including a comfy-looking sofa—completed the room. Beyond the open doorway of the only other door in the room was what appeared to be a full-sized bathroom.

Dusk’s room didn't have much in the way of personal possessions save for a few photographs scattered throughout. Most of the pictures were of Ruby with other ponies, and I even recognized Aura Gleam in a few of them. I didn’t have long to look, though, before I found what was undoubtedly Dusk’s favorite picture. It was an ornately framed photograph that rested on the nightstand next to Dusk’s head. The photograph showed what appeared to be Dusk Ruby as a filly, with two ponies behind her: both were dark-colored pegasi. One was a stallion with a pair of black wings and a rose emblem on his armored chest, and the other was a mare with a single black wing and a pair of flashing purple eyes. As I crept closer to her bed for a better look, I realized that they had shining fangs as well, which I took to mean that they were bat ponies, not pegasi.

I turned to the bottle of Nightfire on the floor and inspected it. The label claimed it to be some sort of cognac ‘By thestrals, for thestrals!’ I didn’t know much about such things, but the ancient-looking bottle certainly looked the part. I decided against drinking any of it and instead set the bottle on the nightstand.

With my survey complete, I figured I'd already invited myself into her home, and so I settled down on the couch. I set my hiking bag down on the floor, and retrieved my notebook and pen from inside. Under candlelight, I began to write down an entry in my notebook detailing the events of the past morning.

A while later, I was interrupted by a rambling, and quite possibly drunk, Dusk. As I looked over from the couch, I noticed that she still seemed asleep.

“Can’t sleep, drinkin’ all night, gonna drive myself mad. Got the shakes, can’t keep still, gonna go insane,” she slurred, waving her hooves as she spoke in her sleep. “They got no bones, so they can’t break. They can’t break. I’m all hollow, but they can’t take me! Can’t take me, ‘til the day I die!”

I set my notebook aside and stood from the couch. I walked over to Dusk’s nightstand and I picked up the bottle of Nightfire once more. I took a whiff of the contents. It certainly smelled like some delicious aged cognac, and I couldn't help but take a sip.

As soon as the warm liquid hit my tongue and entered my throat, I felt my tongue go numb. I was able to run it along my teeth, which also went numb shortly afterwards. Panicking slightly, I set the bottle down on the nightstand and took a step back.

After a few moments, feeling began to return to my tongue, and the numbness left my teeth. I shuddered. “Buh. Strong stuff.”

I looked back towards Dusk, and noticed that she was still talking in her sleep. “They got no bones, so they can’t break…They can’t break…” A shiver rippled across her fur.

I went to pull her Dusk's blanket up to cover her, and as I did, I noticed a symbol on her flank. It depicted a pair of leathery wings, much like her own, underneath a rose.

After covering her, she appeared to stop shivering. I went back to my spot on the couch and sat down, but kept my eyes on Dusk.

“They're not coming to take me away, they can’t… they won’t take me away…" she sobbed.

I watched her for a few minutes more, until I was sure she’d stopped shaking. Dusk was fast asleep by then, so I’d have to wait if I wanted to talk to her about my situation. I decided I'd try to sleep instead, and settled down to take a nap.

I don’t know how long I slept for. When I woke up, it was pitch dark except for a meager amount of orange light coming from the window; the candles had gone out. I sat up and heard a shuffling sound. I turned my head to the left and saw Dusk standing by her bed with one of her forelegs curled around the bottle of Nightfire.

“Jim?” she asked, sleepiness evident in her voice. “When did you get here?”

“Few hours after you left me.” I rubbed my eyes and stood. “Sorry about letting myself in, I wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t answering.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. Dusk eyed her bottle. “Did you… drink any of this?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It’s not half-bad for brandy. Bit strange, though.”

She swilled the drink around in a circular motion. “I can see that.” She blinked, then looked up at me. “So, how did things go with Aura?”

“Not great, but progress is progress.” I opened my bag and pulled out my fresh permit. “I have some legal protections now. Not any closer to getting back home, though.”

Author's Note

8-19-20 to 8-20-20.
The fact that I wrote all 2,750 of these words over the course of two days is already something quite impressive by my 2020 writing standards.

There's not much more I can say that I haven't already said in the first chapter... beyond the fact that HiEs are my guilty pleasure. Well, actually I can say this: as much as I love adhering to the world of friendship and magic as its portrayed in the show, I like making things a little more realistic. Plainly speaking, the concepts of economics and government policy in Equestria is something I have quite a soft-spot for, and something I explored a fraction of here. Little details like these add so much value to the story for me. When you can bring so much nuanced world-building to light without oppressing the story itself, you can add a great deal of immersion to the world; I've found that it's a great way to counteract the natural plight of the fanfic author to urge the reader to suspend their belief: while they're ponies, they could be real! And they are.

Like Dusk Ruby from the previous chapter, Aura Gleam was generated by ThisPonyDoesNotExist.

Her personality, of course, was generated by me.

She plays a small role as a guardsmare in the story of my friend, NorrisThePony: Synthetic Bottled Sunlight. It's a great story that I highly recommend.

Mark and the Bat

stinky (Incomplete)

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Mmm... yes.” The red-gold quill slid gently into its place on the clipboard. “That’s our Saturday complete, princess.”

“Then get some rest. That’s only half of our ‘journey’ complete. And don’t worry about your coffee; I’ll have some freshly prepared for you when we reconvene in...” The white muzzle turned in the reflection of the grandfather clock’s glassy facade. “... seven hours.”

“Of course, princess. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Princess Celestia smiled warmly at her secretary. “Thank you so much, Raven. Truly, I would be lost without you.”

As soon as the door to the rear-throne office clicked shut, a long, laden-sigh filled the room. “Finally.”

Celestia stretched as she stood from her seat; the folds in her back were pulled loose, and a low groan escaped her. The stack of freshly-signed forms found their snug home in the outgoing bin with a touch of magic. The princess barely felt regal as a large gulp of cold tea splashed down her throat. By the time she’d crossed the room, reorganizing things to be as proper as they could, she’d drained her cup entirely. She set the cup down next to the luxury coffee machine next to the door.

Celestia eyed the machine through a lidded gaze. Her eyes flicked to the door beside her, then back. For a long moment, the office was completely still.

Princess Celestia lit her magic once more.

“—but his face, Luna!”

The hallway swam around Celestia as the half-empty mug in her telekinetic grip wobbled.

“Their hearing is sensitive, Anon. ‘Tis not kind to ‘spook them,’ as you say.”

Celestia blinked as two figures came around the corner.

“But still—!”

“Luna?”

The pair—Princess Luna and the monkey of Canterlot himself—stopped abruptly at the other end of the hallway rug.

“... Sister?” Luna piped up after a terse moment. “Thou art still awake?”

Celestia’s muzzle scrunched as she eyed her cold coffee. “I’m taking a break.”

“It is deserved, then.” Luna shuffled awkwardly in place. “Thou hath been quite busy…”

“Yes…” Celestia locked her gaze with Luna. “How are you and Anon fairing?”

“... We were in the gardens—“

“Have you seen those ponies out there, Celly?”

Luna reeled backwards with a glare to her left. “Anon, we—!”

Anon rambled onwards with his excitement. “They look so god damn edgy. Anyways, I bet Luna I could make one of them jump, and he went upside down in the arch! I swear, Celestia, fully inverted! It was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen!”

Before Anon could descend further into a cacophony of guffaws, Luna thwacked him hard on his back. “What madness hast thou?”

“Pretty mare,” Anon wheezed as another thwack, albeit gentler, knocked him forward a few inches. “Ack!”

“We shall have thou trussed for bedlam.”

“Hey, for what? Being bewitched by a moon witch?”

Celestia pulled Anon away from the well-deserved blow with a pull of her magic. “Luna, let’s not bruise up our resident diplomat.”

“The sun sits on my horizon!” Anon yelled. “You stand no chance!”

“Thou art a cretin!” Celestia assisted Anon in dodging another blow from her steaming sister. “Sister, release thy hold!”

Celestia drained her mug dry and pulled Anon away from Luna. “Not before I talk to him.”

After being set down, Anon gave his imaginary hat a tip. “Good to see ya, princess. What can I do you for?” He waggled his eyebrows. “As an alternative to bits, I take payment in favors.”

In reply, Celestia raised her own brow. “I could provide you with a trip to the moon, if you’d like.”

A quick glance over his shoulder secured Anon’s position on the matter. “Nah, I’m good.”

Author's Note

7-4-20.
I'm not really too big into writing Anon. Love reading it, though. Makes sense since it's a lot of wish fulfillment.
This was intended to be about Anon giving Luna a bath. Ended up spending a ton of time on Raven and Celestia, though. At the end of the day, another piece showcasing my desire to write a proper story with the princesses.

ERE 1: Tribus Amore

Lotus (Complete)

They call her ‘Lotus.’

It’s not hard to figure out where people got the name. A red lotus isn’t everyday imagery. Especially not one held in the mouth of a small, pale horse.

Though things weren’t perfect, the world wasn’t meant to be perfect. Things were getting better. Slowly, but surely.

The future has never been certain. She understood that.

But “she provides.”

Is there much more we can do that she hasn’t? Yes.

You’ve heard of the deal. Graciously, we have been given this ‘choice.’

It began with a few million, and by now the souls number in the billions.

For those who still cling to Earth, our future remains uncertain. We can try our best to make it be seen. If you’ve looked to the sky for this long and not yet grown fond, we implore you to stand with our future.

Oceania is where we will rebuild. As currency is no longer an issue, transportation is readily available. Air travel remains out of the question. Our people are located at every major port-of-entry in Australia, and we will guide you as best we can.

Preliminary surveys suggest that two months remain until the halo is complete.

Once she has gathered her seeds, the rain will come again, and we will sow ours.

Our future is uncertain. But it will stay ours.

Author's Note

11-26-20.
Wanted to try my hand at a quick sci-fi (ish) blurb. Based on this image:

ERE 2: Remnants of Sky

Mark and the Bat (Incomplete)

I’d hated the sun before, but my recent change had made my hatred for the orb only grow stronger.

“Freak!” Throwing a glance to the fat American tourist snapping photos of me, I rolled my eyes and kept pace.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” He disappeared back into the bustling late afternoon crowd quickly enough. My hand instinctively went to one of my aching fangs, but a mental reminder of my orthodontist’s words came back to me. Sighing, I let my hand fall back to my side.

Ever since Ben Wesk had begun expanding his duchy to the east, Canterlot had been busier than ever. Despite much of the capital’s traffic being diverted to the train station, the streets elsewhere still found a large portion of tourists plastered all over the place. I eyed a happy little family of Chinese eagerly chatting away in accented English with their pony tour guide. One of the kids, a little boy, caught my gaze. I smiled at him with unfortunately bared fangs.

He immediately tugged on his father’s waist and pointed at me. The father turned to me. His face lit up with surprise, and after a moment, gave a respectful nod. Gracious for his understanding, I returned the gesture in kind. The Chinese family disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as the American had. Sighing, I ran a pale hand through my messy hair and pushed further through the streets of the Equestrian capital.

It had been a week since my transformation had finished, and the encounter with the Chinese man had been the first time a human had been kind to me since my transformation.

A little over a month ago, I’d immigrated to Equestria. It wasn’t my first time here, as the place had truly reeled me in on a birthday vacation a few months ago; Equestria had been just too delightful to spend time in. I had visited the rapidly growing town of Ponyville to the south of Canterlot, and the many days I had spent exploring the town with my friends and family had left quite the impression on me. Canterlot had been the cheapest place to settle down in due to its abundance of apartments, but it was definitely no Ponyville.

This place was full of bigots, pony and human alike. I hadn’t experienced much of it myself until I had started looking for a job three weeks ago. Both ponies and humans shut down my applications, their excuses ranging from a new hire already being in place, to a simple no, or the more blunt statements against my American nationality, or in most cases, my age; I was too inexperienced as a twenty-one year-old, apparently. I had almost given up on Canterlot until I had found an old job listing hidden beneath newer fliers on the employment office’s bulletin board. The job was simple; caretakers were wanted for some foals.

While I wasn’t great with kids, the job was too appetizing to resist; it boasted above average wages, discount health insurance for employees, a free apartment room nearby, and it was all for the good of a couple of… well, what they described as not orphan foals, but foals left behind. Looking back now, I should have known something was up with all the great benefits.

I sighed in relief as my workplace came into view. Pushing past the last of the late afternoon crowd, I opened the door to the batpony orphanage.

Sorry, I did it again. Caretaking facility… thing. See, it’s not an orphanage because the foals were left there by batponies who were simply doing their part to grow the population— oh forget it.

Before I had even a chance to wake the snoring batpony registrar at the front desk, I’d been tackled by my boss.

“Mark!” the dark blue batpony screeched. Her voice suddenly dropped to a hiss, as if suddenly realizing the foals were still asleep. “You’re late!”

Dusting the frantic mare off of me, I briefly checked my watch. “It’s 4:33 PM, Crescent. The foals wake up three and a half hours from now.”

“But you’re late!” I opened my mouth to speak, but Crescent Tail cut me off. “No excuses! Get those hooves moving!”

“Feet,” I corrected automatically. I walked past her and towards the staffroom. “And I was going to say I was only three minutes late.” Whether or not the mare heard my soft mutter, I didn’t know.

The first night of my job had been both unexpected, and incredibly draining. I had woken early in the morning, applied for the job at noon, gone to work my first shift as the new hire in the late afternoon of that same day, and gotten off work at sunrise the next day. The half-day shift had taught me two very important things about my new job; the facility for batpony foals was severely understaffed, and I had to go nocturnal in order to survive the demonic schedule.

From what Crescent had told me, two of the caretakers employed a little over a year ago had left for Transylmania after adopting an entire generation of foals. I later learned that the now Count Wesk and his marefriend had been said caretakers. They had been the most efficient caretakers that the facility had, and with their leave, only a little over half a dozen batponies remained for the dozens of foals left behind, all adults lacking the wonderful abilities that the two apparently posessed.

Batponies had been a complete unknown to me the day my job had begun, and I had learned the hard way why taking care of young foals began so late in the day.

After the hazing shift, awakening with a thoroughly shattered circadian rhythm, I’d gone to Crescent and asked her, despite her early morning fatigue, if there was a better way to live with the job. Surprisingly, she told me yes. Ben Wesk had proved that a bat-like transformation was possible, and that as a caretaker of batpony foals, I was eligible for a transformation. Like a fool, I’d been on board immediately; it sounded pretty awesome to have fangs.

And the transformation was awesome… to an extent.

The transformation took course over the next week of my new job. My hair began to silver and grow smooth, two obnoxious fangs sprouted from my mouth, and a strange, strong craving for pork arose from nowhere. Tooth issues aside, my circadian rhythm was thrown into disarray as I found myself setting off to sleep earlier and earlier, growing paler and paler with the less time I spent in sunlight, and even growing some sort of resistance to the few teething batpony foals.

Though, that last part might have something to do with the amount that they bite me. Curse their tiny little fangs.

As I put my canvas bag down and began to brew a pot of coffee, I heard the staffroom door open. On autopilot, I grabbed another mug for whoever had walked in. I was just about to turn around when the pony sank their fangs into my arm. Sighing, I pried the pony off of me and stared at them.

A batpony mare smiled brightly up at me. “Hi Mark!”

I gestured to the two new punctures in my left arm, miraculously clear of blood. “Can you please stop this, Hotfang?”

“Nope!”

I leant back on the counter and eyed the mare wearily. “It’s a bad habit, you know? Chewing on me, that is.”

“Bad for you, but good for me,” she purred, running her side against me.

I shook my head and laughed lightly. “You act like one of the foals.” She didn’t respond, eyes closed in contentment.

After a full minute of awkwardly silent rubbing, Hotfang still had yet to leave me. I resigned myself to waiting for the coffee to brew. Once the coffee-making apparatus began beeping, I kicked the mare off of my legs and filled the mugs I had set out. Haphazardly shoving a mug into the mare’s hooves, I made for the door with my own coffee.

“Wait!”

I sighed and turned. “What?”

“Come closer!” she hissed.

I hesitated, but bent down all the same. With surprising speed and ferocity, Hotfang darted forward and placed a sloppy kiss on my lips.

“Thanks!” Hotfang bolted out of the room with her coffee.

I sat there spitting and spluttering before I eventually called out after her. “You little—”

“—rat!” All ears in the playroom went up at the caretaker’s shriek.

I pat the silver-maned filly I had been talking to, then stood.

“Nobody move!” I ordered loudly to the unnervingly still younglings. My finger snapped to a foal as he made for the dinner trolley still sitting in the room. He froze mid-step, finally setting the room into a state of stillness.

The calm did not last three seconds.

A large gray rat slipped under the playroom door, squeaking wildly. Not a moment later, Hotfang burst through the door. I relaxed by the tiniest fraction, glad that Hotfang was taking charge, and herded the foals behind me. Together, my little group and I watched as Hotfang and the rat bounced around the room. Toys and books were thrown aside, tiny tables and chairs became obstacles, and the already messy playroom became messier. Finally, Hotfang gave up on her hooves and leapt forward, mouth wide.

Author's Note

5-3-17 to 7-26-17.
If I stay on this one for any longer, I might just start writing about bats again.
This story was based on Sir Hat's Equestrium, or more specifically, his story Ben and the Bats. It's no longer up on Fimfiction, though I still retain an old personal copy. It's a lovely, angry, mean little story by an author who was widely disliked, and I love it.

ERE 3: Mare Somnia

CV1 (Complete)

The front door shut with a click.

“Ryan, look at what I found at today’s dig!”

“It looks like… a rock?”

The pony’s energized excitement dropped quickly into an annoyed scrunch. “Ryan, I… for Celestia’s sake, this is crystalline rose quartz! It just looks like any old rock to you because you don’t pay attention to anything I tell you!”

“That’s because you’re too cute to take seriously!” I slipped my hand between her ear and scalp and scratched away. “I’m not the geologist, Amby, you are!”

Amber Fossil huffed as she shied away from me. “Take me seriously! Please! This is a really awesome discovery, Ryan!”

I gave an exaggerated sigh but smiled all the same. “Alright, alright, come up here Amber.” I didn’t give her a chance to avoid my hands as I lifted her up and onto my lap. She blushed softly as one hand went to work on her neck and the other plucked her precious rock from her golden hooves.

“Q-quit it!” The angry nuisance pushed my hand away. “No scritches!”

I just laughed as I handed her the rock hammer from the coffee table.

Amber shifted a little in my lap as she found a better position to work on the living room ‘work table.’ “This is dumb, Ryan,” Amber muttered as she picked away at the stone to reveal the treasure inside. “Why don’t we just get a new work table to put in my room?”

“Because working in the living room keeps us close together, silly.” I kept my hands resting on her shoulders, not wanting to disrupt her work. “And I especially don’t want you working away on your stockpile at two in the morning like you did when the workbench was in your room.”

Amber turned around and hissed. “It was easier to access my minerals!” As she returned to the stone she continued on, “and I totally did not work on my stones at two in the morning… it was more like midnight.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s exactly why I was happy for you to break the workbench after so long.”

“It was nice,” the unicorn pouted.

“So was my mini fridge… until you stole it from my room.”

Amber Fossil smiled sheepishly. “That’s really nice.”

“You little punk,” I growled, squeezing her shoulders. “I’m going to go get that back one way—”

Crack!

“Wow...” Amber leant back into my chest as she lifted the geode up in her magic. “Look at this, Ryan. Isn’t it beautiful?”

I rested my chin in her orange mane and sank in. “It’s lovely, Amber…”

The pink quartz within the geode reflected the apartment’s glossy lighting far more amazingly than it should have. As Amber gently rotated the mineral, the crystalline properties of the stone went into effect, minute patterns of shining crystal playing softly across Amber Fossil’s fluffy golden chest. Her crimson eyes reflected in the stone, an accentuation to the beauty of the monumental find. I carefully wrapped my hands around Amber and squeezed her.

The pony sank back into me, a tired smile playing a cross her lips as she focused on the mineral. “This is the purest sample I’ve ever excavated from the Canterlot area…”

For all the listening I had supposedly left undone, I knew enough to recognize the fact that not many ponies had such a fine piece of crystalline pink quartz… not like this piece… not like this at all.

An immense wave of pride washed over me. I was so proud of the little mare… here she was, reaching new heights in every waking moment of her life, while I was practically a house sitter. But I didn’t mind our situation. I was happy to see my friend achieving so many goals within her life’s passion, and she was happy that I was there for her all the way.

Author's Note

5-20-18.
I marked this one as complete because I left off in a nice place. This is Amber Fossil, and she is a very determined little pony that I've written cross a handful of stories. This was the first of them.

Troubles in the Lazy River

untitled-Alleyway (Incomplete)

Today had been the day. James would have finally gotten his job, and things would only have been on the rise from there. Now, all the crumb-paths had since spoiled over, and the only thing left between hope and despair were a few thin slices of bread, and a nigh-empty, day-old tub of butter. To James, buttering bread with his fingers wasn’t the most attractive prospect in the world, but it was much more preferable to sleeping through the cold night on an empty stomach.

It was a delicate series of events that had led up to James’ loss of the job opportunity; there was much left to be desired from the hiring-pony’s honesty, but the ultimate path that had given way was the one full of financial burdens, a path that James had been unfortunate enough to be lured onto. He had been promised food, shelter, good company, and money.

For the most part, James had lived without such promises for the last several months he’d spent traveling Equestria. The sudden change of pace in his life style had come about as a result of his arrival in Fillydelphia; it was a small, quiet town, in need of labor, and ponies willing to settle down.

James had been more than willing, but the buffeting winds of society had turned him back to his worn-out hiking boots.

As if to prove its loyalty to the nature of the world Equestria lived by, the weather, too, turned down upon James with an onslaught of icy bullets. He pulled his cotton hood over his head and finished his bread with dignity. The hush of his breath went unheard in the downpour as he stood from the steps of the tavern and disappeared into the night.

A few frantic, candle-wielding lamplighters flitted about on their wings, no doubt desperate to escape the mixture of equally icy hail and rain, and possibly further empowered by a desire to return to their homes and families.

James pulled his rucksack’s straps taut and hurried down a turn, this time choosing a rather narrow street. His eyes flickered back and forth. The chosen alley—one he’d scoped out just before the sunset a few hours before—found its way into his line of sight, and he rushed forward, eager to once more shelter himself from the rain.

The pitter-patter of boots in rain was something all too familiar to James’ ears, but so too was the sound of his boots skipping over cobblestones as he ground to a halt. Standing stock-still in the rain, James stared at the pony who had dared to occupy his haven.

The grullo mare was clearly downtrodden; the dreadful weather was unable to disguise the awful mood pooled into her visage. Her inky black mane, split by a large splice of gray-silver, was tousled and damp. She—the earth pony mare—was bereft of any belongings, or even one of the ponies’ distinct ‘cutie marks,’ and that knowledge allowed James to calm himself a little; she was a blank slate, just like him.

When he stepped out of the rain and into the coverage of the building-cornered alley the mare took notice. Her ears twitched up from their hunched position, and their eyes met. James’ heart thumped much more loudly for a moment; he had been caught off guard by the lone amber-gold iris that peeked from beneath her long frazzled mane. His mind ticked over the curious detail briefly, and ultimately he decided to speak up first. He drew a breath while the mare gave him her own inspection.

“Your eyes. They’re… different.”

Sniffling, the mare shuddered and leaned away. “What?” she croaked in a dry voice; the mare cringed at the sound. “What do you mean?” she said, the rasp mostly cleared.

He scratched at his stubble, which was arguably as messy as the mare’s mane. “Most ponies eyes are ‘cool’ colored. Yours are a ‘warm’ color.”

In reply, she gave him an exhausted, cautionary glance.

“And a dark alley is no place for a bright-eyed pony.” James settled onto a dry piece of cardboard across from the mare, and leaned against his framed rucksack. “Rough night?”

The mare leaned back against the door of the building behind her. “... yes,” she relented quietly. James saw one of her idle hooves play over a discarded kitchen apron. “I’ve been working here since I was a filly. Well, I used to.” Her face tinged faintly with resent, but it slipped away so swiftly that it was almost as if it hadn’t even existed. “I messed up an order. And it was bad, a really bad mistake, but…” The mare closed her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t expect to lose… everything,” she finished.

James blew a puff of air from his mouth. “I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, but… I can try.” The mare’s ears perked up slightly and tilted vaguely in his direction. “I was about to get a job, my first real one in months. But they just… up and left me on the streets. But I guess that’s just how it is for people like us; every day is just one more we lose.”

A morose laugh was coaxed out of her. “It’s nice to meet a somepony who understands that.” The tiniest fraction of a smile peeked out from the corner of an upturned lip. “I’m Mercury.

“James, and likewise. I’d shake your hoof, but it’d be kind of awkward to do with both of us on opposite sides of the alley here.”

Another laugh wove its way out of Mercury’s chest, more boisterous and longer than the last. “You’re funny, James.”

“Funny-looking!” he quipped.

The mare’s smile fully manifested. “That too.” Her head tilted with curiosity. “But how’d a funny-looking guy like you end up here?”

“See, I… when I got to Equestria, I wasn’t exactly crossing at a legal point of entry. A Royal Guard patrol saved my life from some highwaymen—highwayponies, and I was brought over to an actual checkpoint into the country.”

Author's Note

11-12-19 to 11-30-19.
This was going to be a story about a pony and a human losing everything, and striking it out on there own. The concept didn't appease me enough, and I evidently didn't think it was worth expanding this story further.

The pacing is terrible, but the details are pretty good as far as my writing goes. Into the collection it goes.

Project Border: Prologue

Brass Burner (Incomplete)

Brass Burner, against all aspects of his personality, hesitated. He swallowed thickly. “Sir, I—”

“We’ve gone over this already, Mister Burner. Do as you’re told.”

He had no choice but to comply.

Burner’s yellow hoof tightened around the red padding of the metal lever, sweat licking at the fur of his hoof. Waiting no longer, the guardspony slammed the switch back. He ignored his boss’ comments about the delicate mechanism and focused on the room beyond the obsidian glass. With the process initiated, now all he could was watch.

The platform within the shielded chamber shook violently as the magic in the area began to conglomerate. Runes that had been etched in pale check glowed brilliantly, a sign that the safety measures were active. Slowly, tendrils of magic began to visibly weave together into a strange form. The ponies all around him were extremely excited by the sight, but Burner, having seen the simulated equations for himself, stood stock still.

In an eye blink, everything went wrong.

Unable to properly control the magic being filtered into the artifical spell, the runes lining the floor exploded. Chunks of searing silver tile shot off in all directions as energy instantaneouly became heat. Without proper control, magic was rapidly poured into the purple wireframe without restraint. All the ponies were in a state of full-blown panic, their fate dependent upon the strength of the wall between them and the spell.

As his vision turned white, Brass Burner gave one last silent prayer.

Blinded and deafened by the spell’s finale, the ponies all tumbled to the floor.

Brass Burner stood after a time, his vision and hearing undamped. He tried to focus on the aftermath through blurry goggles and the now soot-covered safety glass, but had no success. Stumbling to the chamber’s entrance, he pulled a pouch off the wall and opened the hatch to the room.

The crackling of flames assaulted his ears. The smell of burning rubber and the scent of something similar to ethanol filled his sense of smell. The hideous black smoke made his eyes water. Whatever it was that had just been summed into the chamber, it needed to be extinguished, and fast. Gritting his teeth, Brass Burner pushed through [painful headache and levitated a batch of fire-foam balls from the bag.

After pushing past the acrid smoke, Burner found himself before a metal carcass. He hastily began tossing the fire-foam pellets to precise points on the firey husk. The fire quickly fizzled out as foam sprayed over the red hot metal. With his job done, Burner dropped everything, including himself. He slowed his breathing to accommodate for the hostile mixture that permeated in the air, its threat to his lungs enhanced by proximity. Thankfully, the ventilation in the room was able to clear up the smog just enough to allow the unicorn to inspect the results of the experimental project.

The anomaly had slammed into one of the walls as a result of its momentum prior to teleportation. Black skid marks were drawn across what remained of the floor. Four metal spokes encased in rubber sat smoking at the bottom of the object. Green metal carved out the now mangled frame of the object, and Burner wasn’t sure what exactly the material was.

Despite the explosive results, the evidence was undeniable; the ponies at the facility had successfully summoned alien technology from another world.

As Brass Burner stood again, he noticed that the alien device had glass windows. After wiping away the ash blanket covering the resilient material, the unicorn found the object had an interior.

Author's Note

10-29-17 to 11-4-17.
Had plans on this one to be a bit more sci-fi with the approach.

Project Border: Beasts Upon the Ocean

Bloomers (Incomplete)

Roseluck realized it was so very simple.

The rusted chain had snapped into two clean halves, leaving the piece unusable. The mare had a spare lying around her shop, though, so it wasn’t too hard to dust off and bring out of storage. The wood of the sign had taken it worst, however, having thoroughly rotted through the back and to the front in the time it’d been out in the elements, but Rose had been at least smart enough to purchase a new board to replace the sign. She hadn’t taken enough time to realize that the hardest part would be painting, and embarrassingly enough, she’d given in to her friend’s demands that he be the one to paint it. He had a job to do, after all; digging a few holes into a piece of wood wasn’t enough to warrant the pay that Rose had offered him.

John dipped his brush into the paint bucket. “Almost done painting the background.”

“It looks good.”

John laughed softly as he put the brush to the wood. “Well, I always did want to be an artist. Bit too simple to call this ‘art,’ though.”

Roseluck’s ears perked up at that. “You wanted to be an artist?”

“I wanted to be a lot of things.” The human went back for another fresh dip.

“Like?”

“God…” He froze a moment. “A psychologist, an author, an engineer, a veterinarian… There’s just so many things out there that you can get into.” John shook himself and resumed his work quietly.

Rose shifted slightly from her spot on the floor. “I like to draw things…”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Very, but it’s so very worth it.”

“Amen to that.”

Rose sat quiet, prompting John to continue the conversation.

“How much do you like growing flowers?”

The tan mare’s muzzle twitched slightly. “It’s not just about growing them. You have to breed them, you have to cut them just the right way…” She trailed off.

“Alright, I get it,” John chuckled. “There’s a lot more to a florist than just ‘growing flowers.’ It’s another art of its own.”

“An art of its own?” Rose whispered.

“What was that?”

The mare blinked. “You said that being a florist is another art of its own?”

John paused, then turned his body enough to look at Rose. “I did… yes.”

Rose hummed thoughtfully as she stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” She smiled lightly to herself.

John was smiling at her as Rose looked back down. The mare blushed at the eye contact, then went back to looking at the floor as she had before.

“I thought the same thing about fixing things when I first started doing it.“ John had his back facing Roseluck again. “That is, that there wasn’t much to it besides the technical details.”

“But I thought that you’ve only been fixing things since you moved to Ponyville?”

John nodded. “True.”

“So what changed?”

“I got bored. Also, the paint’s done.”

“We’ll let it dry.” John turned around to face Roseluck. “What do you mean, you got bored?”

“The sound of pulling out nails and grinding out rough edges just bores into your skull.” He tapped on the side of his head for emphasis. “Y’know?”

John sighed. “Anyway, I just sat up one day and realized that I could make my job a little fun. I talked to the ponies a bit more while working, started adding little flourishes to my woodwork, that sort of thing. The more I incorporated my fun ideas into my work, the more I realized that the things I were doing had a bit of a pattern to them.”

Rose giggled. “So you made art?”

“I made art,” John agreed.”

“Maybe I should start doing that… I like the idea of adding unique cuts to my flowers.”

John leant back on the palms of his hands. “What’s it like being an entrepreneur, anyway?”

“Entrepreneur?” Rose blinked. “I wouldn’t call myself that… I’m more of a… hobbyist.”

“Then you should have already been adding those little details!”

Roseluck’s ears slapped against the sides of her head at John’s energetic outburst. “I mean… I guess.”

“Sorry.” John scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted to do my own art, and it’s just really neat that I can basically do that as my job. It’s kind of surprising that you wouldn’t already be doing that.”

Rose sighed. “It’s fine, it’s like I said; I never thought about being a florist as an art. I just opened up this shop with my sisters and I…” she made a motion in the air with her hoof.

Author's Note

9-28-17.
... and I decided to stop writing the story right there. This one's a bit more unfortunate in its 'conclusion' than the other stories in this collection; it's really telling of how getting caught up in other things caused a lot of my stories to develop stunted like this. Planned as a sequel to Interracial from my catalog, Bloomers was going to be an exploration of Roseluck's character.

At this point, I'm probably not going to be picking up this particular path if I were to write a sequel to Interracial. But I still like this piece, even if it lacks a lot of substance. Not bad for 3 years ago.

stinky: The Royal Sisters and banter

Troubles in the Lazy River (Complete)

As soon as you pulled into the parking lot of the water park, you knew something strange was going on.

You locked your car and went through the staff entrance, a bubbling tension in your chest. Something wasn’t wrong, but the air definitely felt aloof. You quietly went through your checklist in prepping the staffroom for the summer day ahead, and as soon as the coffee was off brewing, you sorted out your keychain, grabbed your toolbox and flashlight, and then set off to go inspect the park.

While it certainly wasn’t the biggest water park you’d seen, the family-owned getaway was big enough to garner more than enough attention from the town. The pay was decent, and the job wasn’t all that hard either. There were mostly just slides and pools scattered around the park, but fixing those wasn’t your job, you dealt with electrical wiring, and the arcade machines in the portion of the gift shop. At first, you were put off by seeing an arcade in a water park, but when you realized that it was mostly catering to the owners’ kids’ tastes, it made sense.

On your way to the arcade, you had that peculiar feeling yet again. Your feet had been on autopilot while your mind wandered, but you took control and maneuvered yourself to the pool-zone, but more specifically, the lazy river. It was by the far the biggest attraction in the park after the wave pool, and if your gut feeling told you something was wrong with the lazy river, then business would slow for who knows how long. Utilizing your maintenance keys to open the area early, you slipped through the gate and into the water park itself.

There were four main areas to the river as it wound around the park, and the one by the entrance was closest. You left your tools and flashlight by the gate and went to take a look around. Immediately, you saw the first signs of a break-in; the river donuts were gone. As you looked up and down the lazy river, you then took notice of a second problem; there were animals in the river. As quietly as you could, you hid by one of the bridges over the river and stared at the animals as they passed.

The technicolor creatures, you found, looked an awful lot like tiny horses. ‘Ponies,’ you corrected. Some had wings, others horns, and a smaller majority had neither. The calm and quiet creatures floated idly about the river in their stolen inflatables. You scratched your head and thought of what to do. Shrugging, you walked away from the river and pulled out your phone.

“Yeah, hey Mr. Mitchell.” Your eyes glanced back to the water. “Listen, I know it might sound strange, but there are… ponies in the lazy river.”

Author's Note

5-29-17 to 9-6-17.
It ends in a good place, so it gets marked complete.

I could have expanded this out to its own fic, but then again, same goes for all the stories here. The reason this one didn't make the cut is because I couldn't quite figure out the proper way to have fun with the prompt. So we have this. I think it's still pretty cute. Not sure why I chose to write it in second person, but it's not terrible.

Little Leap

Scribe (Incomplete)

David staggered onward in his search for shelter from the icy winds of the night. The rocky terrain of the moonlit mountain bit into David’s tender feet, his shoes unfortunately unavailable, along with the rest of his preferred outdoor attire. A robe, plain white tee, and boxers were certainly not the best pieces of clothing to wear for a mountainous journey, but then again, David had been trudging down his home’s stairs to go get a drink when he had stumbled and fallen, only to awaken in the cold evening hours on an unknown continent.

Wrapping his robe tighter around himself, David squinted hard into the black.

“If I were a cave, where would I live?” He managed a few more steps before the answer came to him. “In a rock!” The man let out a loud laugh that quickly faltered into a sigh. “I should stop talking to myself.”

Had David not looked to his left, he would have never seen a well-hidden cave. He paused took a step back to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him of an opening in the mountainside; the night was dark, but the moonlight kept things visible for the most part. After confirming the existence of the cave, David began a hurried stride to the dark maw.

Slipping into the cavern meant that true darkness would overwhelm his peripheral vision. David fished in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a thumb-sized laser pointer. From past experiences, the human knew that the pressure-sensitive optic wasn’t too effective, but it at least kept him from tripping or falling suddenly.

Groaning, he decided to ignore the fact that he had not been using the laser pointer when he had fallen down his home’s stairs.

He wiped the sweat that he could from his free hand, then held down the button on the laser pointer.

As soon as the loop between the battery and the LED was completed, David knew something was wrong. The single red diode, which was smaller than his pinkie, shone like a full-size flashlight, illuminating the grey cavern walls in a vibrant spread of crimson. Not only that, but the cavern walls seemed to shake as his light flicked around the entrance. Some unseen aura surrounded the place, and while it did not seem harmful, David still made sure to watch his every step.

His bare feet clapped against the stone as he descended further into the cave. David knew that he should have stayed by the entrance, but now he was curious: something was causing the walls to vibrate, and he felt that it was coming from deeper within the cave. True to his gut, the thrum grew with each step down, and so deeper David went. As the ambience of the cave gave way to dripping stalactites, the air grew warmer and more humid. David was all too happy to see the faint steam that passed his lips disappear alongside the temperature change.

Rounding a corner, David made a discovery; a small sliver of faint blue light. He stepped heel first as he quieted his footsteps slowly, carefully, and with a hint of barely contained excitement. The thrum was at its highest here, and it was now clear that the walls were shaking. David turned off his laser pointer and crept towards the corner to take a peek into a large open cavern.

He stared with his two brown eyes at a light blue dragon. Unnervingly enough, the dragon was ready for him; it was already staring back with two cherry orbs of its own. Ducking back behind his corner, David took in a deep breath and held it.

“I see you.”

The voice was a raspy baritone that carried a tinge of amusement on its edges. David saw fit to stay still as the voice continued speaking.

“Do not fear, wanderer. The night is for words, the day is for actions.”

Hesitatingly, David withdrew from his corner and began to approach the dragon. At least, he assumed it was a dragon; it looked real enough to him.

Nearby, a hovering gout of blue flame kept the area warm and lit. It was definitely the source of the increasing warmth David had felt when descending into the cave. David made sure to slip closer to it as discreetly as he could. The vibrations in the walls had stopped, and David no longer heard the faint buzz that had occupied his ears. The azure dragon had slitted red eyes that watch David’s every move closely. A pair of wings sat folded neatly on the dragon’s sides, and a large gold band hung around its neck.

“When you have acclimated yourself to my presence, then we will speak.” The dragon spoke slowly, but not too slowly.

It’s slow pace relaxed David somewhat, and the man soon found himself laughing awkwardly, though he did have to run a hand over the bristling hairs on the back of his neck. “No, I’m comfortable, it’s warmer here than outside.”

“I would not be able to tell.” The dragon shuffled its wings and leant its long neck down, inspecting David with calculating eyes. From up close, the towering size of the dragon was both impressive and terrifying. It was easily larger than a family home. “My scales protect me from such environmental effects.”

“Yeah, well…” David tugged on his robe. “I don’t have that luxury.”

“I have noticed.” The dragon eased back, causing David to let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Pray tell, what do you call yourself?”

“David.” He reached a hand out. In an effort to kill two birds with one stone, he added, “I’m a human.”

The dragon brought out one of its claws and placed it between the two. David held onto the claw and gave it a hard shake, though it did not move the dragon’s clawed hand even an inch.

“Whistler.” With a chuckle that made the cave system and David’s eardrums rumble, Whistler humored David. “I am a dragon.”

David grinned in reply. “I’ve noticed.”

Whistler set his claw down on the ground again, but then went to work tracing a small circle. David took a step back to watch the dragon work. Something arcane was in play here, as the etched lines began to glow with the same blue color as the hovering fire. David’s mouth dropped agape in awe as Whistler finished and put his claw away again, the two left to watch the process taking place on the floor. The drawing flashed with a bright white light, leaving in its place a now non-glowing rock surface and a strange gold item.

“Take it.”

David looked up at Whistler strangely. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

Not wanting to be rude, David stepped forward and picked up the object. There was something familiar about the object, and off of a gut feeling, David decided to ask a strangely specific question to Whistler.

“Uh… is this a lamp?”

The dragon looked vaguely surprised. “You know of the form?”

David shook his head. “I have no clue what you just did with the magic floor stuff, but this reminds me of a lamp.” He held the lamp-esque object up and inspected it.

A thin golden ring formed a handle for an equally golden frame that housed a glowing cyan gem. It was a solid, unblemished gemstone, and upon pressing his open hand to the stone, David found that it was warm. After pulling his hand away, David found a small steaming imprint left behind on the crystal. Apparently, the lamp served as both a form of light and heat.

“Magic floor stuff?” Whistler laughed heartily, shaking the cavern again. “It is rune magic, and yes, it is indeed a lamp. One of the finer ones from my collection.”

David smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Whistleer…but uh, if you don’t mind me asking,” his smile turned to light confusion, “why did you give this to me?”

Whistler grinned and looked to the floor as he began another carving.

“Many travellers leave prepared for their journeys, but you look as if you have never ventured from your homestead even once in your life.”

David sighed. “Yeah, well. I didn’t really want to leave my house. I had clothes, food…” He trailed off. “...shelter.”

“I suspected as much.” Whistler finished off his latest carving. It was followed by another flash and the appearance of a messenger bag that was tiny in comparison to the dragon. As Whistler flipped open the bag, he said to David, “Tell me of your home.”

David sat down and pulled the lamp close to him, mulling over his thoughts. While he had questions to ask the dragon, he felt as if the gift and the prospect of being in what could be the dragon’s home was an all too clear invitation for him to indulge in the dragon’s interests. David scratched the surface of the gold with a fingernail, and was surprised to find that it was not simply a coat of gold paint.

“It’s a nice place,” he began. “Rural area. Lots of farmland around. I live on a farm with my dad. He works the farm with his employees, and I drive to the city every weekday to go to college.”

The dragon hummed thoughtfully. “Is your father well-educated?”

“Well, yeah. It takes some technical know-how to take care of the farm equipment and run a business, so he’s got some college education. Why do you ask?”

“I am simply curious.” The dragon looked up from the bag with a small piece of parchment. “Ah, blast.” Grumbling with a huff of black smoke that barely managed to clear David’s head, Whistler put the paper away again. “Another visit to the Equestrians is in order.”

Whistler shook his head and pushed the bag aside gently. “I am curious because I have never met any of you ‘humans’ before.” He leant forward slowly, snout nearly pressing up against David’s face. “And I have travelled a vast majority of the Earth’s lands.”

Whistler slipped back again before his looming presence became too overbearing. “Tell me, are you from this land, David?”

“Uh, if we’re on Earth—” Whistler raised an eyebrow at David’s uneasy pronunciation of Earth “—then yeah, maybe. You got a map?”

The dragon kept his brow cocked but pulled a folded piece of parchment from his bag nonetheless. He slipped it to David, who unfolded it carefully.

“Equestria? The Griffon Empire?” David scratched his head. “I… I don’t know any of these places.”

Whistler frowned. “That is most strange to hear.”

The human kept his eyes glued to the parchment. “Which mountain range are we in right now?”

The earth cracked beneath Whistler as he leaned over and placed a claw on the crinkly map.

“Here.”

David eyed the selection as Whistler leant away again. “The Hollow Shade Mountains?” A burst of laughter suddenly escaped David as his hand shot to the east of his previous point. “Fillydelphia? Really?”

Whistler gave a light smile at the human’s amusement. “The Equestrians have quite a… pony-like way, when naming their homes.”

“I think it’s cute,” David said, folding the map neatly. He handed the parchment back to Whistler, then settled back down.

“Do not let the ponies hear you saying that, they may take you as a flirtatious one.”

“Um, what?”

Whistler chuckled. “That was a joke, David.”

“Oh, ha.” David pulled his new lamp closer and watched as Whistler went about making yet another circle, this time centering it around the messenger bag, “Whatcha doing now?”

Whistler finished the final line and watched as the bag disappeared with a pop and flash of light.

“Wow, that is just… amazing.”

Whistler blew on the hovering blue flame nearby, fueling it for a little longer. “Of course. You have never seen a rune-wielding dragon before, have you?”

“I haven’t seen a dragon before, period.”

The dragon pulled back with an inch of surprise. “Really?”

David nodded.

“Then you must tell me about it in the morning.” The dragon’s eyes squeezed shut as he laid his head down. “I may not be hibernating now, but I require as much sleep as the next being.”

David watched the dragon for a moment longer, then leant back against a stone walls and shut his own eyes, the warm lamp tucked neatly into his robe for warmth.

“Thank you, Whistler.”

The dragon snorted a puff of ash from his nostrils. “Sleep well, David.”

David awoke to a plume of smoke in his face. Coughing awake, he waved a hand in front of his face to dissipate the ash. His noise woke Whistler. The dragon lifted his head and exposed his red eyes to the light of the blue flame, a frown gracing his lips.

“I apologize.”

“You’re—” David hacked into a hand “—you’re good.” Groaning, he settled back against the wall and undid his robe, pulling the small lamp out and setting it aside.

“When we last left off,” Whistler began, “you agreed to share your lack of dragon sightings, correct?”

David yawned, covering his mouth with a hand. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Whistler made a gesture with his claw. “Go on then.”

David readjusted himself, then began to tamper with the ring on his lamp as he spoke.

“Well, from where I come from, dragons aren’t real. I mean, we’ve heard of them in fiction and such, but as a real, living and breathing creature? Never. Same goes for the… the Equestrians, right? Yeah.”

“You say you are not from here, and you seem to have no knowledge as to where you are here. The map truly did not help you determine your position in comparison to your home?”

David shook his head.

“Hmm. Most peculiar indeed.”

“My home… I already told you about where I live, but the world I live in has no other sentient—no—sapient creatures besides us humans. We’ve always been looking for other intelligent life, but so far, the closest we’ve come are just a handful of sentient creatures that are just smarter than average.”

“Do you not get lonely?”

David blinked. “Sorry?”

“I cannot imagine a land of one species alone. The Equestrians may have managed it for such a time, but their exploration era arose as a result of their desire to find other intelligent beings like them.”

The human sat up. “We’ve been looking for years, and it still seems like there aren’t any other intelligent beings close by. But you being here, and the existence of this weird planet I’ve never seen before?” He shook his head. “Unthinkable.”

Whistler laughed and stood, smiling broadly. “I suppose it is quite eye opening, is it not?”

“Yeah…” David mumbled. “If this is even real.” The pain in his feet told him it was very much real.

“Would you care to join me, David?”

David clambered to his feet. “Where to?”

Whistler’s grin grew wider. “Do you have another place to be?”

David bit his lip. Slowly, he shook his head. “No.”

“Then come.”

Whistler stomped out of the cave, bowing his head low to fit through the much more cramped tunnel. David did not think it was on purpose, it was simply the sheer size and weight of the dragon that caused his reverberating steps. Swallowing thickly, David picked up the lamp and followed after his new guide. The blue flame disappeared behind them with a faint puff of smoke.

Whistler was waiting for him outside, and it was there that David found the dragon stretching his wings and legs.

“As I live and breathe,” Whistler groaned. “This must be the brightest day that Celestia has brought in the past decade.”

David certainly agreed. He was glad to see that the lamp in his hand stopped heating itself as soon as they were in the warm morning sunlight; a nice touch to an already elegant tool. Unfortunately, the cold mountain air still blew harshly against the land. David figured now would be a good time to talk to Whistler as they walked to… wherever Whistler was leading them.

“Where are we going?”

“A watering hole. Then, Fillydelphia.”

“What’s up with that anyway?” Whistler threw a questioning glance back at David. “With the Equestrians, I mean,” the human reiterated.

“Ah.” Whistler returned to looking forward. “I suppose being unaware of the world you stand in has its conundrums.” David caught up to Whistler as the dragon began a long spiel.

“The Equestrians are ponies, divided into three tribes: the earth ponies, unicorns, and the pegasi. They are ruled by the benevolent Princess Celestia and the shadowed Princess Luna. We currently stand in their lands, and though we may not be the citizens of their homeland, we must respect their laws. Here in the uncolonized Hollow Shade Mountains, we are beyond their jurisdiction, but that does not mean we should not respect their laws and policies.” Whistler tapped the ground for emphasis. “Other dragons such as myself have used the caves here to rest, but it is strictly prohibited to hibernate here.”

“Wait, why is hibernation so bad for you?”

Whistler paused and turned to David slowly.

“It is not bad for a dragon, it is perfectly healthy to do so. No—” Whistler turned and began walking again “—it is the dwellers around who suffer. Tens of hundreds of years may pass before we awaken, and until then, our flame will continue to burn within us, devastating the land with black smoke and ash.”

David blinked twice. “Yeesh… that sounds pretty bad.”

“Indeed it is.” Whistler sighed and stretched his large wings again. “But that is the life we live.”

The two walked silently for a time. David spoke up a while later, his thoughts finally formed fully.

“So this is real.”

“Hmm?”

“I feel the pebbles between my toes as I walk. They hurt.” David caught up to Whistler and cautiously placed a hand on the dragon’s blue scales. “You’re real. I can feel you breathing, your heart pumping, your scales against my skin.” Shuddering, David pulled away. “It still seems all too surreal.”

Whistler was quiet.

“That means that those ponies are real. The unicorns and pegasi? Earth ponies? Other dragons are real. Civilizations exist. Fillydelphia? The Griffon Empire?” David shook his head and stared forward. “I don’t know how I got here, but this place seems too crazy to be real, and yet...”

Whistler sighed, then gave a gentle nudge to the tired-looking human.

“You have much to learn, young David.”

“Can you teach me?”

Whistler looked down at the smaller creature with a cocked brow. “Pardon?”

“You seem smart. Can you teach me about this place?”

“There…” Whistler sucked in a deep breath, “there is quite a lot to teach you, David.” Suddenly, a thought struck the dragon. “Writing is a good way to retain such knowledge, however.”

“But I don’t have anything to write with.” David paused. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“We are here.”

David looked over the crystal clear lake where a deer and rabbit sat drinking. Both looked up, momentarily surprised at the pair’s sudden appearance. David was amazed to see that they went back to drinking almost immediately.

“Drink to your fill. Then, we fly.”

“I’ll take advantage of your offer, but…” David looked to Whistler “...are you really suggesting that you teach me like… like a student and teacher sort of thing?”

Whistler laughed softly and stepped down to the water’s edge. He cast a look back to David.

“It is difficult to remember knowledge through memory alone, even as a dragon with a capacity for deep-memory storage. If you write for me, however, we both may benefit; you will learn, and I will retain.”

Smiling, Whistler leant down to the water’s edge and took a large swallow of the crystal clear liquid. His head came up again once.

“My claws are too big to write precisely, but you may do it for me.”

Whistler went back to drinking.

David opened his mouth to speak, but let it close on its own. Eyeing the deer and the rabbit, the two still drinking side-by-side, David approached the water and knelt down himself. He splashed a bit of water into his face and stared at his reflection. Looking around at the three creatures drinking, David slowly shook his head and sank down to drink.

“How did I get here?” he whispered, his brown eyes trapped to his reflection yet again.

When Whistler had said that they would fly, David had not suspected he would be invited to ride upon the dragon’s back. He eyed the lamp he had been given, now hanging by Whistler’s neckband for their flight, then looked up into the dragon’s eyes.

“Are… are you sure this is safe?”

“I will not let you fall,” Whistler promised.

Despite his fear of the dragon, David believed his honest tone.

Sucking in a deep breath, David scrambled up Whistler’s side and onto the large dragon’s back. His legs didn’t fit over both sides of the dragon, so he placed himself on the dragon’s thick neck, his legs sloped comfortably enough across Whistler’s flat back. Whistler stood straight again.

“Hold fast, David. I will not let you fall, but you must not let yourself fall.”

Within seconds, the dragon was in the air. It was a much more graceful takeoff than David had expected. Whistler’s wings flapped in tandem every so often to keep himself ascending steadily, but again, they were nothing like harsh flaps that whipped the wind as the human had initially imagined. David peered past the dragon’s neck at the land below, and was amazed at the bright colors that called up to him. The darkness of the previous night had held a beautiful world away from him, and he was very glad that he had not run away from the dragon upon first sight; David didn’t know where he would be now if he had run, but he knew that it would not be up in the sky soaring just beneath the clouds.

“This view is amazing!”

“You may thank the ponies for that!” Whistler called over the wind.

David’s black hair flicked past him, and in a moment of both courage and stupidity, David let go of Whistler’s neck and reached up to touch the altostratus clouds above. His hands passed through the cloud layer, causing a smooth divide that spanned the middle of the clouds. Whistler, upon hearing David’s gleeful laughter, burst through the clouds, spraying water vapor everywhere. David shook his head and looked around, amazed to find a white ocean before him.

The sun illuminated the cotton land before him in a delightful hue of yellow. Further above, the higher altitude clouds soared, plastering the morning sky with white. It was with a wide grin that David placed his hands back down on Whistler’s neck; there was something truly magical to flying above the clouds and seeing the early morning sun amongst the cerulean sky.

All too soon, however, Whistler dove back beneath the clouds.

“And to think, you get to do this all the time!”

Whistler belted out a hearty laugh. “Should you choose to stay with me, you will enjoy such privilege as well!”

Smiling, David looked back down at the earth as Whistler brought them down from their high altitude flight. He could see what looked to be a thatch-roofed village not too far off, and pointed it out to Whistler.

“That’s Fillydelphia, right?”

“Yes, it is!”

“It’s really close!”

“We’ll be there soon enough!”

True to his word, within a short flight of about five minutes, Whistler had brought them both down to ground again. David climbed down from the dragon and let out a loud whoop.

“That…” David began laughing and put his hands on his knees. “That was quite a ride!”

Whistler cleared his throat. David looked to the dragon as he gestured around.

“Welcome to Equestria.”

David eyed the vivid green surroundings; the vibrant colors were even brighter up close.

“Well, it’s certainly… bright.”

“And the ponies are brighter.” Whistler made a motion. “Here comes the welcoming party now.”

Curious, David tightened his robe again and strode forward to see to the ponies’ approach.

“Well…” the man scratched at his head. “You aren’t wrong…”

“Mr. Whistler!” The leader of the vibrant-hued herd prodded forward with a beaming smile. He was a light brown pony with a charcoal mane, but unlike his fellows behind him, he did have a horn or wings. “It is a pleasure to see you here again!”

Author's Note

5-5-17 to 7-27-17.
Honestly, this one was doomed to fail. I have a better story now that prominently features a dragon, but this... this one was just going to be too much of a focus on an uninteresting guy and a barely interesting dragon. Not enough to make it worth completing.

But this chapter did break 4000 words, and for that it deserves to be here in this collection.

Lotus

SE1 (Incomplete)

There was a terrible rumbling from somewhere near my sleeping spot.

I sat upwards in alarm and cocked my head to the nearest wall of the cavern. The cave system fell silent in the wake of the roar, but the beat soon made its presence known once more. Sighing, I fell backwards and placed a hoof on my grullo stomach. My friend rumbled again, and all I could do was give him a consoling pat.

“S’alright buddy, we’ll get you some grub.”

I groaned as I heaved myself upwards. My sore hoof cried out in pain under the pressure, so I let up on it and limped my way out of the cave. It was easy for me to find my way out as I had only settled around the first turn in the tunnel, leaving me with line of sight of the noon sunlight.

The first thing I noted when I stepped out into the sunlight was that something had come through my area. I thought it curious at first, as I believed the hoofprints to have belonged to a deer I knew that wandered by the cave every few days, but they were much smaller and pressed far too daintily into the ground to be a deer. Another thing that struck me peculiar was the fact that there were yellow feathers strewn about the place.

Now, I wasn’t an expert on birds, but I was aware of two facts about the local avians: they were not as large as the feathers suggested, and they definitely weren’t the yellow kind either. My black mane bobbed in front of my vision for a moment as I crouched down to inspect one of the bright feathers.

“Agh!”

My ears perked upwards and I carefully brought my head up. Another cry of pain, more muffled than the first, pointed me in the direction of the hoofprints. In fact, I realized that the prints started in the middle of the clearing, which signified that whoever was in pain was an yellow pegasus.

“Stay—” I clamped my mouth shut. Paranoia flooded me as I asked myself the question; what if the pony was hostile? The last ponies I’d seen were the reason I was hiding in the forest to begin with...

So instead of speaking up, I forced my sore hoof back down on the ground and began trotting with delicate, yet urgent steps.

Sure enough, there was the yellow pegasus. She was in a bit of a bad spot, that was for sure; rose thorns sprinkled her side under a wing, a result of the rose bush she had evidently stumbled into. I wasn’t sure how painful it was to pluck those out with her mouth, but if the small drops of crimson dotting her lips meant anything, then it definitely didn’t feel good.

Before I could say or do anything, she spotted me. At first, she looked relieved, but it quickly turned worrisome.

“The hay are you doing out here, kid?”

I blinked; I hadn’t been ready to answer questions. “...stuff.” My hoof met my face mentally.

She opened her mouth to say something, but she winced in pain; in her shift in focus, she had accidentally shut her wing right on top of the thorns. She grit her teeth and fluffed out the wing again. “You can tell me in a second what’s going on… just… help me out, will ya?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” I agreed grimly. My hooves carried me swiftly over, and in a few seconds, I had my green magic lit and wrapped itself around each of the thorns.

The mare’s eyes widened in shock. “W-Wait—!”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish, instead opting to yank the pricks free. On closer inspection, her body didn’t seem to be too injured. I threw the thorns as far away from us as possible and stepped back to give her room to breath.

“Celestia kid…” she wheezed. “I… I can’t say it doesn’t feel better, but you could’ve given me a little warning.”

I shrugged. “It was quick and easy.”

She smiled weakly at that, still breathing heavily. “I can agree with that logic.” The pegasus turned to face me and stuck a hoof out. “I’m Spitfire, and you are…?”

“...Crisper,” I relented after a moment. “Crisper Oak.”

With an eyebrow raised, she lifted a hoof up and wiped a bit of the blood from her mouth. “And what brings you out here, Oak?”

“Um…” I began to sweat a little under her hardening glare. “T-The nature! Right!”

Author's Note

1-22-18 to 8-31-18.
Another false start fic. Not really sure what I had planned for this one, but it did have a fairly good start. Also, Spitfire!

CV1: Amber Fossil

Salt (Complete)

Salt.

Ponies love the stuff. Only one place they can get it from reliably though, and it doesn't come cheap. That does make it quite the valuable commodity, however.

Most salt on the Equestrian continent is mined from the 'safer' sections of the Appleoosan Desert's rocky mountain ridges, but there's only so much room to spare for a heavy mining industry, so the smaller mining companies look elsewhere. Some salt miners find themselves trapped with the conglomerates, others left to fruitlessly digging up samples for the family-enterprises, but most succumb to the pressures of the salt life and trudge back to Dodge Junction to clamber aboard the next train home. Everyone tries to dip their appendage into the honey pot of salt mining, and most fail. Because where there's value, there's danger. The salt flats of the Badlands are a testament to that.

I should know—I grew up here.

The Badlands are the last place on Equus one would expect to see civilization, and one would most certainly be correct. Out here, there’s nothing but the dry cracked ground, baking heat, and the riches of an untapped land; rare-earth minerals, gemstones of all kinds, and a nigh-endless sea of salt. Salt, salt, and salt. This place might not be as reliable for civilization as

I’d have left already if it weren’t for the fact that the one thing keeping me here is the thing I hate most. Maybe I’ll join up on the caravan and

“Gallant!”

The griffon shot up in his chair and quickly scribbled away at the notebook with his quill. “Y-yeah?” he called, still frantically smudging the paper.

“Caravan’s coming! Get your butt over here ASAP!”

The sandy-feathered griffon sent the book into his desk drawer with a flick of his talons, grumbling all the while as he slammed the drawer shut.

“You die in there or something? Your girlfriend’s almost here!”

He double-checked himself in the standing mirror placed in the dusty corner of his room and pulled himself together with a huff.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” were the first words out of the griffon as he came through the front door bleary-eyed.

The human snorted and clasped him on the back. “You sure, champ? I’m seeing some tears in your eyes.”

Gallant glared up at the man and pushed him away with a thwack of a wing. “It’s the dust out here.”

“S’alright, Gallant. I don’t mind you crying, I just don’t think it’s a good impression for your girl.”

“She is not my—”

“Gallant!”

The griffon’s attention was swiftly stolen by the soft feminine call. “Hey, Amethyst!” he replied as he strode forward with a broad smile and wave.

Coming down from the crest of the hill, the tan-coated earth pony came trotting up to the two desert-residents. Out of sight on the other side of the hill, the sounds of the caravan rang forth. A few more ponies crested the hill, but they took their time descending the slippery slope, as opposed to the gallop that Amethyst had adopted.

“Ms. Arkin, it’s great to see you again!”

“Garrett!” Amethyst Arkin’s smile doubled as she came close. “It’s good to see you!”

“I see you finally had your mane styled,” Garrett said with a pleasant laugh as the two shook hand-in-hoof. “Have to say, you’re definitely looking great for all the time you spend out here!”

Amethyst tittered gently. “It’s all thanks to you, you know? I wasn’t going to get it done, but you convinced me.”

Garrett stuffed his hands back into his pockets and maintained his bright tone. “Just doing my part, little lady. Can’t let the only pretty mare I talk to let herself go.”

Gallant rolled his eyes. Hard.

“Well, you’re looking fine yourself, Gallant!” Amethyst said as her smile resurged. “Did you do something with your feathers lately? They look… different.”

The griffon and his feathers fluffed up in pride. “Well, I—”

“He had a lot of fun preening with that oil we snagged from you guys last time,” Garrett interrupted with a mischievous grin. “And I mean a lot.”

Gallant’s brain and mouth sputtered. “I—dad?!” His eyes widened as he processed his own words.

“Aw, you finally got him to call you dad?” Amethyst giggled.

“Yup, he’s a big ‘ole softie.” Garrett replied with a good-natured smile. “Guess it was the oil that finally convinced him to love me.”

“Well, whatever the case, you look great, Gallant.” Amethyst’s piercing violet eyes sent a bolt of shock through the griffon as he met her gaze.

“T-thanks!” he squeaked, drawing out further embarrassment at Garrett and Amethyst’s reactions.

“Alright, that’s enough teasing,” Garrett grinned as his laughter settled. “Now then, shall we get down to business, Ms. Arkin?”

Defeated and deflated, Gallant numbly set to work loading the arriving caravan’s wagons with salt. He had come out of his adobe home with a plan, and it had completely fallen apart. His ‘dad’ always seemed to know what to say to the ponies when they came, and once more, Gallant had failed to properly do something on his own. Humiliation had come and gone, just as it always had in the ever-ruthless Badlands. And not even the weight of the bags of salt were enough to distract him.

But the cute mare following him might’ve been enough.

Author's Note

8-22-19 to 11-30-19.
I really like the idea of a dad embarrassing his pony/griffon son. Weird, I know. I planned this one around that interaction. And salt-mining.

The pony chosen for the role of 'pony' in this story had to meet the requirement of 'being cute.' There were a lot of contenders, but it came down to an OC named Amethyst Arkin. A search for her on Derpibooru.

untitled-Alleyway: Homeless man and bat pony

Project Border - Prologue (Complete)

Fun fact: International law doesn’t apply across planets, even if they are connected by sea.

The moment you flew across the northern Canadian border between the two Earths, you were subject to the law of ponies. Coincidentally, the option to operate under the law is universal to both worlds, and it’s a simple process; just don’t fly across the border. That’s the easy bit; the hardest part is finding a ship that can do so.

When most people visit the world of magic—dubbed Equus by mankind—they don’t realize that they’re landing in the southern Zebralands. It’s easy to mistake the green lands of the humid-subtropical south for Equestria itself, but the land of ponies is over a hundred kilometers north of the Zebraland-based interplanetary airport, Harmony International. The establishment of this airport, as well as the Earth-based counterpart Proxima International, were the creations of the first trans-planetary cooperation agreement in known existence. In the first Earth-to-Equus expeditions, it was revealed to both pony and human alike that one avenue of travel between our two worlds was to be banned by the agreement; travel by sea.

Now, when I said crossing between both worlds unnoticed was a simple process, it is critical to understand that it wasn’t always like this, meaning, it wasn’t like we could just boat across an ocean of water and stars; sea-based travel is banned for a reason. You see—or rather, what you don’t see—is the veil separating Earth and Equus. Nobody knows why we suddenly found our worlds connected by a zone north of Canada and south of the Zebralands, but we did eventually learn that between these two worlds was a buffer of sorts. Humanity learned that there were no existing laws in this place, only those brought from between the worlds, and theorized it to be a location where matter slipped between universes. With much less theorizing, the inhabitants of Equus confirmed that the buffer zone was naturally absent of any matter and energy whatsoever. Armed with this knowledge, we concluded that ‘the Void’ could be traversed; energy and matter could enter the plane, and that meant that we could, too.

If our creation stories are to be believed, the Void is the edge of the world. It acts almost as if it were the vacuum of space, allowing energy and particles to pass into its realm from that of Earth and Equus. The Void, however, instead of allowing these foreign contaminants to stay in its thrall, pushes it back into our worlds, which is why we do not constantly leak our atmosphere or dribble endless waterfalls into the abyss; the Void cannot destroy or convert energy, so all it can do is push it back towards the source. From our constant experimentation in pushing the limits of the Void’s grasp, we have ascertained that there is a threshold within the Void, and once you cross it, you are pushed towards the other plane of existence, be it Earth or Equus. While the exact required speed to cross the threshold is unknown due to the lack of constants in maintaining speed, it is a known fact that planes can travel fast enough; boats however, have been shown to be unreliable. On a traditional airliner operated by human governments and Equestria, the Void’s pushback effect can be described as the result of the most powerful consummation of air resistance to ever be recorded. The pushback on a boat, however, can only be described as a devastating super-compressed coil with profoundly fatal speeds.

Ill-equipped travellers aboard these seafaring-vessels have never been recovered alive; all that remains after one of these journeys is the disemboweled and malformed carcass of their chosen transport. This is not to say that airliners are without their problems, and the loss of an occasional cargo aircraft is a problem both Earth and Equus governments actively seek to solve. Humanity was the first to cross the threshold into Equus, and it was by sharing our technology with our magical counterparts that we have come to the commercial consensus of actively flying between both worlds. We ask the question often, of why we continue to take these fatal risks, knowing full well that a passenger airline could one day—will someday lose hundreds of lives to the Void, and there is but one simple word to answer this question; globalization. Just as we reach the peak of our own outreach across Earth, new markets have been breached and opened to our industry, and new markets are the most priceless commodity in the game of globalization, for no matter the trade, be it goods, cultures, or passengers, there is much money to be made.

This is why I study intently the foreign nature of magic. This is why I work as the middleman for the shadows of nations. This is why I cross the ocean of black between worlds.

My name is Clay, and I smuggle across worlds.

Author's Note

4-25-18 to 8-1-18.
This was drawn out to be a very headcanon heavy fic. This prologue should explain the basic premise of the story in a concise, albeit incomplete way. Ultimately, I never planned out a proper overarching outline, but I did get a short little action scene done; it is included in the following chapter.

Brass Burner

Project Border - Beasts Upon the Ocean (Complete)

Jury Rig did not like what he saw on the starboard side of his patrol boat.

“What the hay is that?” the captain muttered. Lowering his spyglass, he wiped his tired eyes with a white wing and turned to the crew on deck. “Prepare for boarding, I have a feeling we’re not going to get any hails.” With his crew in motion, Rig turned back to the vessel and began a search for any form of identification whatsoever. “No flag, no lights and signals... Nothing.” Nothing… save for a name painted in blue on the side of the vessel’s hull. He stowed his spyglass. “The RSV Tern?”

Jury Rig and his crew were apart of the Equestrian Coast Guard, and this inspection was just another part of their daily routine… but the ship’s existence was all but usual. He suspected the ship to be more than just a simple research vessel by name, but had no evidence to support it save for the lack of proper signals. Another thing that struck him as peculiar was the designation; RSV was mostly used on Earth, not Equus. Many humans did not have an active mariner’s license in Equestria’s waters, and even then, what was a human doing moored just outside of Haybinger Port? A ship moored too far from the coast and too small to have a rowboat… something was keeping the ship from entering the port.

“Something’s wrong,” Jury Rig commented with a shiver. Licking his lips, he carefully lifted his radio receiver and spoke. “This is the Equestrian Coast Guard vessel High Tide. Identify yourself.” Silence. “I repeat, this is the Equestrian Coast Guard vessel High Tide. Identify yourself or you will be subject to the use of force!” Another lapse of silence. Rig sighed. “Captain of the Tern, if you do not comply, you will be boarded by an armed party!”

There was no response from the ship shrouded by midnight fog.

Even as they pulled close to the vessel, the crew of the ECG High Tide couldn’t see any signs of life aboard. It was seemingly abandoned, save for the soft hum that permeated the lower freeboard of the schooner. The ship’s hull was formed of a metallic alloy that reflected the patrol boat searchlights through a layer of matte white paint. The paint was far too pristine for an abandoned ship. The hull seemed to be about twice that of the patrol boat in all dimensions but length; at best, Jury Rig estimated the ship to be about 35 meters in length, with a 6 meter beam and 4 meter draft. The vessel had a sleek design, with the ship tapering off to a point at its triangular bow as opposed to the boxy front of the High Tide. It was a beautiful ship that a single experienced captain could probably handle alone.

The captain and his crew had no idea what they had stumbled across, but there was definitely some form of research to be done, and the first question was whether the ship was crewed or not. With a nod to the deck gunner aboard the patrol boat, Captain Jury Rig of the Equestrian Coast Guard clambered aboard the humming vessel, followed closely by three armed guardsponies.

As soon as Rig’s hooves touched down on deck, the pegasus’ ears prickled at a soft sound; somepony was talking. His eyes drew themselves down to a small hatch that was open near the lone deckhouse of the ship. The wooden floorboards opened up into a brightly lit compartment, which no doubt led directly to the lower aft of the ship.

“On me,” Jury Rig ordered quietly to the crew. Steeling himself, he crept down into the depths of the ghost ship.

The belly of the ship reflected the futuristic design on the outside, and on closer inspection, Rig realized that the alloy of the ship’s hull was aluminum-based. This was a ship built for speed, so what was it doing in Haybinger Port, no less docked outside of the port town?

Aluminum production had always been an expensive prospect in the shipwright industry; Jury Rig had grown up in the industry with his father, and he knew that only the Equestrian military had extensive use with aluminum… that is, until the arrival of humanity. The humans had revolutionized the industry of the world, but even with their advances, aluminum alloys remained an expensive building material that sucked up even more cost in labor. Perhaps the ship was a covert asset of the navy, but the circumstance was far too suspicious; there was no way that a military ship in operation would be moored outside of a civilian area without an active crew, and besides, the ship had human classification.

It made boarding the Tern all the more a tense prospect.

The voice he’d heard earlier came into clarity. Jury Rig motioned to his ponies; wing-pistols at the ready, they followed closely behind their officer as he advanced past a rack of life vests and a few footlockers. The squad suddenly slowed; a conversation on the opposite side of the bulkhead was taking place. The sound was barely audible, but two distinguishable voices were there.

“... Kill me and the ship goes down with me.”

“The door at the end,” one of Rig’s crew commented just loudly enough for their group to hear.

The captain silenced the guard with a hoof; the conversation was hitting a peak.

“How so?”

“I know this ship bow to stern. You kill me, you lose that knowledge.”

“A fair trade for the abilities of the ship.”

“Time isn’t on your side.”

“And it’s not on yours either.”

Jury Rig had never really had to breach a door on any ship before, but he was ready to make it a first. The door was already partly open, so all that had to be done was the breach. Two of his guards stacked up with him on the door, and the third continued to watch behind them for any threats.

“You heard them outside… The Coast Guard’s coming. They’re probably on the ship now.”

“They won’t be a problem.”

Clunk.

Rig only had enough time to snap his head back down the hall.

“Grena—!”

A bang filled Jury Rig’s ears and his world flashed white. Burly limbs wrapped around him, knocking his sidearm from his hooves in the process. The attacker slammed him through the door and threw him on the floor where he quickly found his wings and hooves bound. He blinked blearily through the haze of the flashbang and the ringing in his ears, but all he was rewarded with was a stinging sensation. Eventually though, the white faded. He opened his eyes.

Jury Rig was lying sideways on the cold metal deck of the ship. Across from him was a towering black creature… he noted blearily that it was a unicorn. The stallion grinned down at him with pearly white teeth and spoke. Rig couldn’t hear through the ringing, so he instead chose to right himself onto his haunches and survey the situation.

Just as he had suspected, his crew had been disarmed and bound with cable ties as well. Two of them had been placed at the front of a large mint-green machine, and the last was being carried atop the back of a bulky brown earth pony. Their weapons had been discarded by the hooves of another unicorn, this one an ocean blue mare, who was in the middle of sealing the door. Jury Rig had just found himself in a hostage situation, and he and his crew were the readily available pawns of these unnamed assailants.

But they weren’t the first.

Jury Rig stared at the human standing beside the unicorn. They looked back at him with a frown, their hands behind their back. Like the captain, this human, too, was bound. Rig gave the human a nod and grunted. The human nodded back.

The charcoal unicorn slapped the captain hard with a hoof to the cheek, forcing Rig to look back up at the pony. The ringing was quickly subsiding now, and he heard the second voice from before—he noted it was the human’s.“... a bit rude.”

The unicorn snorted as he turned back to face the man. “You believed the Equestrian Guard would stop us? I’m appalled you would underestimate our abilities, Clay.”

“I never said they would stop you, I simply said time wasn’t on your side.”

The unicorn rolled his eyes. “Why do you believe yourself to be such a powerful asset? Our organization could reverse engineer this ship in a day. Your death and notions are meaningless.”

“There’s no reason to lie to yourself, Chit.” Jury Rig noted that the human—Clay, if he had heard correctly—spoke quite calmly. He seemed more annoyed than angry at being held hostage. “My ship—”

“A princess’ ship,” Chit growled. “From the very ponies that you say you are fond of, you stole their rulers’ ship.”

Clay’s face fell grim. “My ship will fall apart without me. You don’t even know where to begin with the engine, let alone how to man the ship; it takes more to work this ship than simply understanding what’s on the inside.” He leant forward, eyes flicking to meet Jury Rig’s own very briefly. “Scion Chit. You’re nothing but a pawn in this game the shadows are playing. I know what you think you’re gonna gain from taking the ship; favor. Let’s face it, your organization doesn’t care about you now and will care even less after this. If you were to die, they’d be glad to be rid of you. And you’ll be dead the moment they find out from me that you ruined everpony’s business. The only thing meaningless here is you.”

Rig’s ears flopped down against the sides of his head as the human pulled back; a gray aura of magic was wrapped taut around Clay’s throat.

The unicorn was practically hissing. “You. Know. Nothing.”

Clay’s choking became more profound as he slowly began to levitate upwards.

“The only thing my superiors will hear from you will be that you have been usurped.”

“Not… gonna… happen…” Clay breathed.

Somewhere from the depths of the ship, a terrible roar rang out.

Chit dropped the human, who gladly replenished his lungs with air.

“What was that?” the unicorn demanded.

A scream tore across the vessel, and all of the ponies gathered flinched… Clay simply coughed.

“Manticores,” Clay half-groaned, half-laughed. “It sounds like the guy you sent to loot the ship just found my cargo.”

Jury Rig shuddered. He didn’t like lions.

Especially venomous lions that could fly.

CLANK!

A mass of meat and muscle slammed against the watertight door, and even Scion Chit felt a pang of fear go through him. “You maniac!” He pulled Clay up to his feet involuntarily. A harder thud slammed into the bulging door. “We’re all going to die!”

“That’s not the plan either…” With a burst of speed, the human tucked his head down and bodied the unicorn. They tumbled to the floor, Chit too surprised to react. At the same moment, the door to the room flung open on screaming hinges, smacking the unicorn mare at the door muzzle-first; she went down, knocked out cold. One of Jury Rig’s crew members—a pegasi sat against the machine—slid their hooves from their cable ties and quickly undid their fellow guard’s bindings with a few sharp bites and pulls. After undoing each other’s ties, one pegasus flew off to face the earth pony standing near the last guard, and the other flew to Jury Rig’s aid.

“The bindings!” the guardspony spat quickly.

The captain ignored the embarrassing fact that he hadn’t tried to undo his bindings himself prior to the breakout and instead pulled the ties off of his savior’s wings. The action was reciprocated, and with his rescue complete, the guardspony flew off to help his comrades with the earth pony.

Unfortunately, freedom was not at hoof quite yet.

Jury Rig and the manticore locked eyes. The captain gulped audibly.

“Oh, hay.”

“GET OFF ME!”

A quick glance told Jury Rig that the human had freed himself and was currently holding the unicorn down by the horn. He didn’t have time to digest the situation fully, as the meaty thuds of pawsteps against metal dragged him back to the manticore. Acting on instinct, he jumped up into the air and pulled his hooves up, narrowly dodging the manticore’s lunge. Uninterested in doing a live test of what a wing-pistol could do to a manticore’s thick hide, Rig opted on getting the ponies, the human, and himself out of combat as quickly as possible.

“Scruffy, over here!”

Confused, Jury Rig looked back to Clay. The human was standing now, his hands firmly wrapped around Scion Chit’s horn and throat… and he was getting ready to push him into the oncoming manticore’s charge. The captain could only watch in horror as Clay practically threw the stallion into the manticore. A sickening crack filled the air of the room as the manticore landed on the unicorn. His muffled screams filled the air for a moment, and then it was gone. The manticore was unphased, and quickly bounced back up onto its paws.

Jury Rig shook his head and bit back the rising bile in his throat. ’Thank Celestia it was just a foreleg.’ The captain looked away from the unconscious and battered body of Chit and pulled himself together. “I need to get these ponies and my crew out of here ASAP!” He saw the earth pony topple over in the background as one of his crew landed a nice upper cut into the stallion’s jaw. “How do we deal with the manticores?”

“Let me handle ‘em!” Clay shouted over the rumbling pawsteps of the manticore. “Scruffy and Max don’t like ponies! Just get you and your men out of here!”

Ignoring the fact the manticores had given names, Jury Rig swooped down to the body of Scion Chit. He was still breathing, and as Rig picked the pony up he was thankful to find that he was quite light. Clay had jumped away from the body and in front of the manticore, and Rig could hear the sound of claws sliding against metal as the beast slid to a stop.

“Easy Scruffy!”

Rig’s crew were quick to follow him out the room; two of them carried the earth pony, and the one who’d untied him had picked up the unicorn mare. The captain sent one look back through the broken doorway at Clay, who was still literally holding onto the manticore to prevent it from tearing the ponies apart. There was no time to waste, though, and he and his crew quickly made their way back through the entrance, ignoring the growls further towards the front of the ship, presumably from the cargo bay.

Jury Rig was quicker to action this time. Barking orders like a madpony, he had four of the crewmembers aboard the ship take the unconscious ponies from the boarding party, and an additional two pegasi joined him aboard the RSV Tern. The deck gunner was told to hold his fire unless directly threatened, and with that, the regrouped squad of six descended into the ship once more.

They came down at the worst possible moment, as Clay was just passing by with the manticore in front of him. He motioned for the ponies to be quiet, and worked on keeping the manticore looking straight ahead instead of at the ponies. Once the pair had disappeared down the hall and around a corner, the six pegasi resumed their movement with much more trepidation.

“There’s manticores?” a new member of the group asked nervously.

“Two of them, apparently,” one of the pegasi from the initial boarding party muttered.

“Shut up!” The order from the First Officer did its job, which did much to relieve the Captain’s worries.

Clay’s voice suddenly echoed down the hallway. “God, you did a number on this poor guy, Max.” A number of soft sounds followed, including grunts of exertion, and then the ponies heard a door shut.

“It’s safe, captain,” came the man’s voice.

As the group came around the bend, they came upon the human and the last hostile; the stallion sprawled across the floor was battered and a little more than bruised, but he was breathing, and that was good enough for everypony present. Clay was in the middle of unclipping a vast array of gear strapped to the unconscious body of the grey pegasus; Jury Rig admired the speed at which the human committed himself to the process.

“Sucker must’ve thought he could get away with a good chunk of my…” he hesitated. “Nevermind that’s beside the point, you got the rest of them locked down?”

“They’re secure,” Jury Rig stated simply. He eyed the man carefully as he began strapping the pegasus’ stolen gear to his own self. “Now that we’ve weathered the storm…” The captain pulled himself taut. “I’m Captain Jury Rig with the Equestrian Coast Guard, and you are?”

“I’m Clay.”

“... and your last name?” Jury Rig paused, wondering suddenly where the manticore had gone. “For the record, of course.”

“Kiln.”

The stallion’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Not to pry, but that’s quite the ah, familiar name.”

The human continued to work his straps as he responded to the captain’s question. “My wife thought it would be a good idea to take up an Equestrian name. I wasn’t born Kiln, but I’ve always been Clay.” There was a final resounding snap as Clay finished his work. “And I like it that way.”

“Well Captain Kiln, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to undo all that fine work you’ve done there with your…” The nature of Clay’s bags was clear. “Weapons and equipment.”

“I have my permits.”

“And I’m sure you do.” Rig couldn’t help but sigh. “You’ve been a fine citizen so far, but we need to get this business sorted out before I can let you go.”

“And what business would that be?”

“The matter of your ship’s unsolicited anchorage in territorial waters near Equestrian assets.” He paused. “And whether or not you actually have your permits for ‘Exotic Animals’ and ‘Weapons’ trade.”

Clay put on a smug grin. “And the baddies.”

“Yes yes, and the baddies… Would you kindly disarm yourself so that my men can properly escort you above deck? We’ll do our checks, and we’ll be out of your mane.”

“You and I both know there’s going to be more to it than that.”

“Captain, please.”

“With all due respect, Captain Rig…” One of the manticores prowled around a corner, causing all of the ponies save Jury Rig to flinch. “I’ve got a delivery to make, and these are some very significant goods.” The second manticore emerged from the other side of the room, this time causing a few ponies to backpedal. “Property of the Crown, you see?”

Jury Rig held his resolve. “Captain Kiln, I don’t care who you’re delivering these goods to, there’s the matter of fact that you were held captive on your own vessel, and documentation needs to be filled in order to properly record everything that’s just happened.”

A harsh screeching—like chalk on board—sounded off through the hull.

Clay was impassive as he spoke. “You should’ve just taken care of your new prisoners and left.”

A rumble shook the ship.

“They’re escaping.” He strode past the ponies, the manticores returning down the corridor to the bow after one final glance at the group.

The stallion was not pleased at how the situation was playing out. “I’m going to assume you’re right, beca—”

“Less talking, more moving.”

The ponies were quick to rush ahead of Clay in the quick corridor to get above deck, and as the two captains emerged alongside each other, the carnage strewn across the deck of the High Tide came into view. Jury Rig swore softly under his breath; the squad flapped over to the ship and alighted smoothly.

“C-Captain Jury Rig!” The deck gunner scrambled a salute as the squad reboarded their ship, all in awe of the scorch marks splattering the deck; it was far worse than from afar. “T-They just…”

“How?” Jury Rig’s eyes were wide. “Nevermind, I don’t care how, where are they?”

“Thank you for your time, Captain!”

Jury Rig whirled around at the yell of Clay. “What do you—?” He froze; the low hum had become a buzzing overtone.

With nary a passing word, Clay saluted the captain and slammed the door to the bridge.

And in an iridescent flash of purple, the ship disappeared.

Gritting his teeth hard, Jury Rig lurched onto the edge of his ship for support. “Oh for Celestia’s sake! Can’t anything go right whenever we go to Haybinger?!”

“Captain,” his First Officer began warily. “What are your orders?”

Jury Rig heaved a heavy breath and surveyed his ship. The place was a mess: several guardsponies had been knocked about and were just beginning to stir, a brand new hole surrounded in a black coating of ash sat in the middle of his deck, and worst of all, the prisoners were missing. All he could do was sigh; it was a late night of work, he had experienced yet another incident around Haybinger, and worst of all, he had paperwork to do about several missing suspects… and that human.

Something had been off about the whole ship and its captain, and Jury Rig swore to himself that he’d do everything he could to find out who Clay Kiln really was… and what exactly he was involved in.

He leered back at his second-in-command with a stony grimace. “Rouse up the rest of the crew. We’re going home early.”

Author's Note

4-25-18 to 4-12-19. Edited on 9-3-19.
This really could have made it as its own story. But it just didn't end up something I was interested in writing more of. If someone else had written it, though, I would've loved it.

Bloomers

Mystical Golf (Incomplete)

Mystical Golf is advertised as an authentic golfing experience, and by the layout of the three courses, one would most certainly see the resemblance of the Scottish Highlands. The courses are immaculately designed: each hole experiences a multitude of elevations; a great deal of hilly inclines block views and shots alike; the population of select species of plants and a lack of trees around the green; and the massive freshwater lake is truly something to soak in. It truly is a golf club that anyone can see the beauty in.

Well, as long as you can look past their advertisements of ‘fantasy creatures.’ I’ve had enough encounters with Canadian Geese to last me a lifetime over.

I had been fairly impartial to the prospect of getting a part-time job while going to college, but the boredom of my relatively short four-day weeks had sunk in by the end of the second week in college.

Mystical Golf was the last place I expected to find a job. I saw myself as more of the run-of-the-mill college student working the fast food line, not someone down in the sandtraps and the cart depot. Funnily enough, management had put me on the part-time list for the upcoming Labor Day weekend, and I was slated to get some training done for cart maintenance for my first day on the job. That actually got me excited to go to work; I was already on the educative-track to go into work as a biomedical equipment technician, so getting to work on some machines was something I was all for.

However, they neglected to mention to me that I would be spending a great deal of time cleaning and dealing with batteries. I hated how sweaty my hands could get under gloves, and now I had a job where a good portion of my time was going to be spent with gloves.

At least I didn’t need gloves to check tire pressure.

Saturday was a more laborious affair than Friday; a course had some debris that needed clearing.

The Mystical Golf Club is actually separated into three separate courses: the Witch Golf Course, which is more swamp than turf; the Man-o-War Golf Course, which shares the right side of Mystical Golf’s lake; and the Wizard Golf Course, which shares the left half of the lake.

Thankfully enough, I got to work on the ‘nicer’ courses, which were the side-by-side turfs of the Man-o-War and the Wizard.

And unfortunately enough, all the geese in the Carolinas seemed to live there.

I later learned from a coworker that the reason all those birds were there was because of the golf club’s desire to bring even more nature to the course; supposedly, ‘nature sold well. That answer left me with even more questions. How much money could they make off nature? Why would they choose geese of all things to bring in? Did they realize how much excrement they left lying around on the courses? How did they manage to call geese ‘fantasy creatures,’ without jest? And more importantly, how did they attract all the geese?

The answer to the last question was delivered in a pastel package.

I was finishing up my process of loading some fallen branches and bags of leaves onto my golf cart when I noticed something off about the geese across the lake. For the most part, the geese spent their time in and on the edge of the water, but suddenly they were shuffling about to organize into an absurdly neat lines. It didn’t take too long to see what had them going about the strange ritual.

The pony had a bright yellow coat and violet mane that marred the otherwise bland terrain with its mixture. They seemed to be waving on the geese with one of their front hooves; how they managed to stay balanced so well, I wasn’t sure. The pony also seemed to call out to the geese, but the voice was lost on the wind. The geese all eventually crossed the road the pony was stood on, wandering past the parked golf cart and out of sight. I watched the pony trudge down to where the geese had been, cautiously stepping around the messes they’d left. A pair of protective goggles were pulled from their mussy mane over their eyes, and with a roar, the engine of the orange weed wacker awkwardly held with a foreleg and a mouth spun up.

I played with the idea of sitting there and watching them for a tad bit longer, but I had my own work to do.

I piled into my cart, looked once more at the pony, and turned the key with a curious hum.

For once, Sunday was true to its name; a light fog that had descended upon Myrtle Beach early that morning lifted off within a few hours of the waking day, and I was off to the golf club to work under a blue, and cloudless, summer sky.

Like the pony the day prior, I was armed with a cordless orange trimmer. There was a great deal of rain in the Carolinas, and with the coming hurricane, even more rain was being hurled our way; combined with the warmth of the summer sun, it was a perfect recipe for unruly plant growth.

Most of the sandtraps needed trimming quite badly, and I ended up driving myself all across both the Wizard and Man-o-War courses to catch the edges of the eighty-odd sandtraps scattered across the thirty-six holes. I was ‘working’ with someone the whole time—I continued to come across trimmed sandtraps throughout the morning—but by the time lunch rolled around, I was more than ready to drop on the ground from the heat.

While we had our own breakrooms, employees were allowed to use the kitchens on-site so long as they cleaned up after themselves. I ended up using the Wizard’s clubhouse, and not just because the building was a faux castle; it had the better kitchen of the two clubhouses, and was equipped with a superior microwave.

And although I hadn’t expected it, but the pony inside was a sort-of bonus.

She greeted me from her position near the center of the room as I stepped through the door. The pony had her hooves propped up on the marble-top island in the kitchen, a mug of cinnamon-colored coffee to one side of her hooves, and a closed blue flip phone on the other. I stumbled a bit in surprise, but we both shared a laugh at my expense when I recovered. I settled into one of the bar stools and set my meal down on the counter.

We exchanged names, and conversation kicked up swiftly.

She preferred the name Yam, and said she didn’t have much of a story to tell, but that was a plain-flat lie. I didn’t see a need or desire to pry any further, as I felt I’d been told enough; I learned that she was from a family of farmers, and all of them—her included—proudly worked some good farmland up in North Carolina. They had plans to purchase some of the land for their own at some point, but Yam’s family were satisfied with the deal they’d struck with one of the major family-owned farms; magically-enhanced crops still saw some scrutiny, but the massive improvements to harvests definitely held some leverage. For her own part, she had plans in South Carolina to try her hoof at hemp farming later down the line, but for now she was content with studying at the local university for a BSBA in Management.

After a bit of talk about our pasts and goals, we inevitably sank into conversation about work. While I was new to the golf club, Yam had been working there for a few months. I was pleasantly surprised to find we were both fulfilling the same position, though she had a few additional roles that I had gotten a taste of the previous day. It turned out that she had been the one to enable the management to add ‘fantasy creatures’ to the golf club’s features list, and while I couldn’t get an exact answer out of how she managed to do it, I did get the feeling that it was a very unique characteristic.

We spoke for a little longer, but eventually we had to part.

I felt a bag of longing on my shoulders for the rest of the day, and by the time I’d gotten home, I still was unable to remove that aching feeling. I’d never spoken to a pony in the decade they’d been on Earth, or even spent time around them, but it made me wonder why exactly I’d feared approaching them to talk.

They seemed just like us.

No matter how much she tried, though, Yam couldn’t get me to accept the pest known as geese.

It was Labor Day, and I was working alongside a pony to maintain a golf course while the sound of golf drivers flooded the air. It turned out that Yam actually had trouble wielding the trimmers we used for the courses; I was surprised she was able to hide her discomfort so well. The blower, however, seemed to work perfectly for her. With me on point and Yam holding the rear, we made quick work of the remaining trim on the lake, and were off to deal with the branching ponds of the Man-o-War course.

Hurricane Dorian was a menace to our work; the storm was getting close, as evident by the gray clouds above that sprinkled us with precise shots of rain every so often. I came close to calling off our work when a particularly large pack of clouds popped up on the horizon, but Yam seemed confident we would be able to finish up. It was through her careful planning that we managed to plow through all the flocks of geese and work before the rain came pouring down on our heads.

It never did, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the time I spent working on a golf course of all things.

I’d expected to go back to school on Tuesday since the weekend and national holiday had passed, but I was clearly mistaken. The governor called for emergency services to be available as mandatory evacuations were sent out across several of the coastal counties. All of the local colleges and universities closed, and urged students to ensure safety was their number one priority; education definitely remained the second-most priority for the schools, however. While I wasn’t in an evacuation zone by a healthy margin, I still remained vigilant and kept an eye on the local TV whenever it was in view.

I heard one of the ponies living in the apartment complex arguing with my downstairs neighbor. From the bits and pieces I’d heard, it seemed to be a controversial debate over whether or not Tom had put his trash in the pony’s bin.

Of course Tom did, because ponies had been good neighbors to us for the past decade, and people like Tom had been everything but accommodating to them.

But mostly because Tom is the only one who cooks a Digiorno every night. Nobody, or anypony for that matter, in the neighborhood eats that much pizza.

I had been a bit apprehensive to go into work on Wednesday.

I was really glad I did.

Dorian had been knocking on the doors to the Carolinas for the past few days, but that day it outright broke it down. Rain has been scattering all around my apartment and the golf club, leaving behind pools of standing water and the echoing gurgle of the storm drains. That didn’t stop management from calling in those available for maintenance. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to work on the golf carts; I was off to the course.

I was once again on the journey to visit as many sandtraps as possible, but it was for a task I’d never even considered; the sand inside them needed to be maintained, too. There was a lot of constant heaving and drawing with my rake and broom, but I just couldn’t get the right consistency across the board for the sand. It wasn’t until Yam came up with her own rake and broom that life finally found a way.

Yam had repeatedly shown that she was capable of making things look easy, and her work with the sandtraps was the purest sample of her efficiency.

Author's Note

9-3-19 to 9-4-19.
Originally worked out as a story for Admiral Biscuit's 'Not-a-Contest'. Supplanted by my other entry: Sandpiper.
I like Yam. I wish I could've made things better for her. 2084 words is pretty far, though. She deserved a place on the anthology.

SE1: Spitfire Asks the Questions

YWN: Decontaminate Celestia upon her arrival to the Earth (Complete)

Celestia had been to several nations during her lifetime appointment as a ruling princess of Equestria. In that time, she had met many species, brokering deals of peace between her ponies and their people. It was a constant of her life that had its own variables: the customs of other species were always different. That in itself was a facet of nationhood that many of her little ponies struggled to confront. But rather than bristling at each encounter, Celestia had come to enjoy these differences; it was the spice to her travels, with each ceremony a refreshing insight into a distant people.

It was fitting, then, that humanity humored her the most; few could claim to greet a princess by leaving her naked and soaking wet.

Humans had certainly mastered the art of metallurgy and glass. The industrial steel and reinforced glass of the dome-shaped building was an impressive calling card; many first-time visitors to Earth could recall the ‘hub’ building in intimate detail. The steel frame of the dome was filled in with a complex glass that filtered sunlight in a harmless way: it prevented the sun from blinding those inside the building, while also keeping the place well and naturally-lit.

Celestia took a moment to peer out at the now bare trees; the alien giants had shed their leaves for winter.

Beside her, the thrumming of magic was palpable and crystal clear. The gateway was a marvelous human invention that allowed the portal to maintain itself without user interference, so long as Celestia's spell remained unsevered. It was a sturdy steel alignment shaped in a horseshoe-bend around the blue vortex. Rivets lining the forged metal plates held the irregular shape together, and tough bolts secured the arch to the floor beneath.

Celestia turned to the double doors ahead of the gateway. Like the rest of the building, the doors were of a glass and steel construction, but imbued with an intricate set of quiet machinery that allowed them to glide open on their own. As the alicorn approached with a practiced gait, they did just that. Celestia stepped through the doorway as it closed behind her. The room sealed once more with a short hiss of air.

The two figures in the room looked up at the sound of the room repressurizing. Thick, layered faceshields hid their faces from sight, and carapaces of orange fabric protected their gangly forms. The ‘environmental protection suits’ were another peculiar condition of Equestrian visits to Earth. Celestia, to her chagrin, could not understand the worries that the suit-wearers regularly allayed her with; she could do little to harm them. Radiation was a concept she understood well—especially as one who raised the sun for her planet—and magic was an ocean that stood separate from the world of gamma rays. Worse, she was forced to contend with the feeling of shame each time she stepped into this room.

The figure on the right bowed at crisp angle. “Good morning, your majesty.” The woman’s voice, as projected through the suit’s speaker, crackled with static.

Celestia gave a polite nod. “It’s delightful to see you again, Dr. Cooper.” She turned to the motionless figure on the left. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bradford.”

The figure jumped slightly. “She knows my name,” came a hiss. Cooper turned to face the man, and at a snail’s pace, tapped the side of her suit’s helmet. After a brief, stunned moment, Bradford slammed his rubbery mitten’s palm to the side of his own helmet.

Celestia smiled at the nervous response; she knew the man had neglected to speak into his short-range radio, and for that he would pay a grievous price. “Unless the nameplate has fooled me, and you are not Dr. Bradford.”

‘Bradford’ turned away from Cooper, a new stiffness to his form. He made a few wild gestures, and lowered his arms. Celestia held her amusement withdrawn as the man’s mitten slunk back to where his ear would be. There was a click.

“I am,” came the delayed reply, as led by a forlorn sigh.

“Sorry about that, princess,” Cooper crackled. “Would you like to begin with the procedure?”

Celestia decided that Bradford had suffered enough for now. “I would very much like that, Catherine.”

Cooper was much less pliant than her colleague: a slight, inconceivable pause preluded her walk to the panel of flashing lights on the side of the glass hallway. Bradford chuckled, but said nothing more.

“Beginning decontamination procedure,” Cooper called.

Celestia stood still while the woman fiddled with the control panel. Soon enough, a telltale hiss started to worm its way through the floor beneath her. A moment later, several metal rods on either side of her began to rise from the floor. Immeasurably small holes dotted the pipes, and traces of steam rose from them. The pipes paused briefly in their ascent, stopping level below Celestia's withers. At the panel, a few inputs from Cooper allowed them to continue on their journey. They came to their apex just above Celestia’s horn. Another pair of pipes revealed themselves to extend from the side of the pipes’ tops, driving over her to meet one another. The hiss of steam had reached a crescendo, and the sound of gushing water filled the room.

Celestia readied herself by closing her eyes.

Steam and hot water flushed against her. Celestia had to resist the urge to curl into the soothing feeling, as her horn was already close enough to hit the overhead pipes. The floor began to vibrate, and she felt the ground beneath the pipes shift as the platforms moved to lase along the rest of her figure. Her mane and tail were drenched by the beaming water-onslaught in a matter of moments: her mane draped down beside her, completely obscuring one side of her head, and came to rest grazing the floor; her tail turned limp as well, and it trailed behind her at quite some length.

The body-hugging heat of the enveloping spray came to an end far too quickly for Celestia's liking.

There were no more games to play as the rest of the procedure continued. She reigned in her teasing. Amid the steam and clicks of metered equipment, Celestia was the perfect picture of royalty. And as was procedure, that too came to a swift end.

The princess waited patiently in front of the door leading out of the chamber. Dr. Cooper turned away from the intercom panel, and clicked her speaker on one last time.

“Your guards are waiting for you, princess.”

The heavy magnetic locks on the entrance racked loudly to the side, and the doors cranked open.

Princess Celestia thanked the bowing doctors, stepped out into the wintry dawn, and smiled ahead for her latest day on Earth.

Author's Note

1-14-21 and 1-16-21.

After reading this, you might already know the inspiration:

In all, I loved practicing with this one. I'm very fond of stories featuring light "alien envoy" situations, and I made an attempt to funnel that goodness into a short scene. On top of that, I love Celestia and Luna, and as such I'm always in want of an excuse to try my hand at writing them.

Mystical Golf

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

YWN: Decontaminate Celestia upon her arrival to the Earth

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Red Growth

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

NN21: Applejack and Applebloom Inquisition

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Forest Rain: So the kirin wants to be an adventurer, eh?

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Star Ruby

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

DR1: Man falls off a mountain and right onto the pony planet. Bat ensues.

DR1 (Complete)

When I was a kid, I used to dream of wide open meadows. Wildflowers would stretch from every corner of my view. Off into the mountains, and into the deepest riverbanks, color flowed freely from every orifice of the world. Nature was something so idyllic to me, and the moment I found myself back in the countryside after 20 odd years was one I couldn’t forget.

This planet is far from Earth, to be certain. But I can’t imagine myself away from rural Equestria anymore.

The ironic thing about all of this is that I started out in one of the biggest cities on the pony-side of the universe. Now, of course you wouldn’t expect to hear this after I unloaded on you about the beauty of natural order, but Manehattan is one heck of a place. We had skyscrapers back on Earth, mind you—ponies weren’t the first to prosper—but I was and still am pretty dang impressed with how much quadrupeds could accomplish, especially given their size comparative to the city builders I knew.

Magic definitely plays a role in that regard; ponies have pulled off a plethora of amazing feats. Those pegasi likely guided the steel beams lifted by the unicorns, and the earth ponies clung to those beams like glue as they welded them together, with lightning-fueled torches and unicorn stasis as precision. If you’ve read up on Hearthswarming and the world before the Equestria of today, you’d be struck by just how far they’ve come.

And I suppose that’s why I can easily call these ponies my neighbors; I’ve found that humanity and ponykind aren’t too far off.

It all began with a fall.

I fell out of the sky, that is.

Okay, not really, I'm pulling your leg. I fell off a mountain.

I was a pretty determined little bastard when I was young. Mountain climbing was a favorite pastime of mine even before I knew the fun involved in it. I’d run off after supper and go climbing through the playground downtown, prompting stares from the rest of the kids on the city block. In my teens, a friend offered to take me out to the Rockies for a weekend getaway. That was the best weekend of my life, and probably the best time of my life on Earth, ever.

And it ultimately led to me climbing the Rockies one last time, and falling off the mountain. I lost my grip—the chalk on my hands didn’t help all that much up there—and went cascading. I couldn’t hold back the scream I let loose, and so I tumbled, screaming all the while.

After about fifteen seconds, I was suddenly jerked upwards into unconsciousness.

“Wake up...”

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself on the ground; a bright, blue, cloudless sky greeted me.

“Come on, wake up…”

The feminine voice called from somewhere above me; I rolled my eyes upward to get my eyes on her.

I froze when I saw that it wasn’t the usual suspect.

The rubbing motions on both sides of my head stopped as we made eye contact. ‘She’ pulled her dark gray appendages away, and fixed me with an uneasy smile. Her fangs jut out at me.

“Can you hear me?”

I nodded numbly as my eyes strained from the odd angle.

She laughed. It was a very sharp, chittering kind of laugh, but it was tinged with good-natured cheer. “Well, I’m happy about that! I wasn’t sure if you were just somepony’s pet, so it’s good to know the clothes aren’t just for show.”

“A… a pet?” Pony? Wait… “You’re not… human.”

“No,” she said, her demeanor falling as I rolled over in the grass to sit up. “I’m a pony. A bat pony, actually.”

I rubbed the back of my head and looked at her. My jaw dropped. “Holy cow.”

The confirmed pony (but actually bat pony) had a large crimson mane—which was tinged with a few locks of magenta and violet at the front and side of her head—that rolled down her neck. Her dark fur was mottled with hints of pink in the sunlight, and two scars accentuated the trick of the light: one extending from her right eye up the bridge of her snout; and one extending down from her left eye toward a cluster of three freckles. At the top of her head, two gray ears sprouted forth, brimming with fluffy fur. My eyes jumped to the tiny fangs at the roof of her mouth, and then to her eyes; evidently, she had heterochromia, as her left eye was a dim emerald green, and her right was a blazing orange.

“Dang,” I muttered. “You’re a pony, alright.”

Her cheeks darkened in a blush. “Well? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Just dandy.” I shook myself. “Just had a nasty fall. Which…” I paused. “you…”

“Which I saved you from?” she grinned. “Well, you can thank these!” Standing, she turned to show me her side. I stared at the pair of wings. They were leathery, and looked quite sturdy. They also matched the fur of her coat.

“You were pretty heavy, especially that bag of yours, but it was no big issue since it meant saving somepony’s life!” She flexed her gray wings for emphasis.

“I… wow.” I clutched my chest, and looked back up at the sky. “Wow.”

“So! You're a traveler, right? That’s what that big bag of gear is for, isn’t it?” She tilted her head, studying me. “And to be honest, I’ve never really seen a creature like you.”

“Ha, same could be said about you for me.”

“What? You’ve never seen a bat pony before? We’re actually—”

“Wait, wait, wait just a second!” I stood suddenly, and looked around, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was speaking to a flying pony that had just saved my life. “I didn’t even know ponies could talk! Where even am I?”

The surroundings were picturesque: lush green fields lit by a brilliant sun, and scattered with beautiful, vibrant flowers of all kinds of colors. The sun steadily rose in the east over great fields of golden wheat and rye, casting its rays across the evergreen forest to the west. My breathing hitched as I took it all in, and the pony spoke up behind me.

“Um, Equestria? You were hiking on Foal Mountain, you know?” She paused. “Or did you not know?”

“Listen…” I turned again and walked up to the pony, an index finger outstretched. “I know what mountain I was on, and it most definitely was not ‘Foal’ Mountain,” I spat.

“No, I guess it wasn’t.” She moved her head to the side and nibbled at her bottom lip. “You… you really haven’t heard of Equestria? Or even seen a pony before?”

“No,” I said. “I swear to God.”

The pony flinched.

“What?” She mumbled something. “Come on, speak up!”

“Don’t you mean ‘I swear to Celestia?’” She quickly shrank in.

My mouth fell open again and I blubbered for a bit. “What?”

“Sorry! I know other creatures have different idols, but it just slipped out!” she cried profusely as she managed to shrink further.

I blinked as I watched her shrivel up. My hands wavered, and I unclenched my fists. “I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this.” I slumped down on my ass and looked back toward the eastern fields. “God… dang it, I’m sorry.” I set my head in my hands as I rested my elbows on my knees.

The grass rustled under the weight of her steps as she crept up to me.

“Hey.” Her voice was quiet and soothing. “Hey, look at me.” She placed a hoof on my knee.

I lifted my head. Her green-and-orange eyes pierced mine. From this close, I could see an otherworldly glimmer in them.

“Listen to me.” Her words were still a bit shaky, but she steeled herself with a breath and carried on. “I know you don't know me, but I'm going to try my best to tell you who I am.” She smiled. “It’s easier to talk if we’re more than strangers. Does that sound okay?”

I breathed. “Yeah.” I nodded. “Okay.”

She kept her silence and smile. She sat her rump down across from me, her wings folding in. Then, she began: “My name is Dusk Ruby. I’m a bat pony, and a native of Fillydelphia, Equestria. I was born in the year of 988 of the Equestrian calendar, and I’m currently twenty-one years-old. I like long-flights during the early morning, and…” she giggled briefly, “mangoes are my favorite fruit.”

As she spoke, I couldn't help but stare, captivated by her incredibly human-like features. Her face had a distinctly human appeal to it, and yet, her body portrayed otherwise. She waited patiently for me to speak.

“My… my name is Jim. Jim Miller. I’m a human, and uh… I was born in Bethesda, Maryland, but I’m really not a uh, ‘native’ to anywhere in particular. I was born in the year 1992 of the… Gregorian calendar, so I’m currently twenty-eight years old. I like taking things apart, and an apple does me just fine.”

“You like taking things apart? Why?”

“Because I get to see how they work. It's fun.” I shrugged. “I like... finding things out. If I didn't take things apart, I wouldn't know anything.”

She tilted her head to the side and gazed at me with her bright eyes. After a brief silence, she spoke. “Have you ever wondered how things work? Like, really work? You know, the world, Equestria, everything?”

“I have indulged once or twice.”

“I do it all the time, but I've never had somepony I could... talk to about it.”

I mulled over her words for a moment. “Well, I'm a good listener.”

Dusk’s ears perked up. “Really? You’d listen?”

My smile tentatively drooped. “After I figure out what’s going on? Yeah. We can talk.”

“Oh. Right.” Dusk’s gaze flicked westward, and I followed her focus to the mountain close by. “That’s Foal Mountain. There’s a lot of great thermals around there, so I ride the currents whenever I have time. It’s a bit of a flight from the Fillydelphia outskirts to there, but it’s worth it… especially since I was able to, you know, save you.”

“Thank you, again, really.” Dusk hummed in reply, and I sighed. “I just don’t know how I got all the way up there. I just lost my grip and then… bam. Lights out.”

Dusk gave a sheepish laugh. “When I caught you, your body went from stiff to limp fast.”

“I probably probably blanked out on the force of the impact,” I theorized. “I was panicking pretty bad, to be fair.”

“I can only imagine!” Dusk said, horrified. “Us bat ponies—oh, and pegasi, sometimes our hearts just give way and our wings get locked in freefall. I’ve never had that happen to me, but for somepony without wings to go through freefall?” She set her hoof on my right shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” I reached up and squeezed her hoof. I kept my eyes on the mountain. “Yeah, I’m gonna be okay.”

The sun inched over the eastern horizon. It bathed the western mountains with a fiery embrace, and we watched it slowly creep over the peak of the mountain.

“Equestria, huh? Beautiful place.”

She hummed again, and we sat there, my hand on her hoof, watching the sun paint over the snow-capped mountain.

I was broken out of my reverie by the lack of feeling on my back. She removed her hoof from my shoulder as I checked my shoulders for my bag’s straps.

“Your bag’s over there.” I stood and moved over to my bag as Dusk continued. “I hope you don’t mind, but I looked through it a bit to see if you had anything that could tell me, um, who you are.” She paused. “I’ve never seen a bag like that before. There’s a lot of space for things. And the straps were hard to pull open, which is a good thing… I think.”

“They’re zippers,” I explained, moving out of the way to show her. “Top ones the ones you struggled with?” She nodded. “Yeah, they’re a bit scuffed, but a little bit of force gets them open just as easy as the rest.”

I unzipped the bag, and gave my things a brief once over: I still had my one-person Kodiak canvas tent, a fresh set of clothes, a small stash of bottled water, some perishables, and my notebook and pens. My thermos and nylon climbing rope and pegs were missing, though; they had been on the sides of my backpack, so it was more than likely that they’d been flung off during my fall.

“Everything okay?”

“Yup, missing a few things, but nothing too major. I’ll live.” I slipped the backpack on, and gave a grunt as I adjusted to the familiar weight. “Nice.”

“It looks great on you!” I looked down at my khaki shorts and sweaty blue-polyester tank-top. Thankfully, my tan hiking boots still hugged my feet tightly.

“Thanks.” I shrugged the bag.

Dusk yawned suddenly. I smiled as she blinked rapidly through a blush. “Sorry, I’m usually back home and asleep by now.”

“That’s alright. I’m sorry you had to spend your free time saving a guy’s life. That being said…” I looked east toward the fields. “I think I need to get my bearings. And I’d rather not be on a mountain right now.”

“Well, I’m living Fillydelphia, and there should be somepony there who can help you figure out what’s going on.”

“Anywhere with more people… er, ponies, has got to be better than standing here letting daylight burn.” I made a motion with my hand toward her. “Lead the way.”

With that, Dusk took off—something that seemed impossible given her visible weight and the size of her wings—and veered off on a steady but manageable pace toward the eastern fields.

We eventually hit a dirt road that wrapped around the fields, and Dusk Ruby landed to trot alongside me. Dusk explained that the winter harvest was almost done, and true to her word, we came to pass the fields in the middle of being threshed and processed—there were even some ponies working in the field that cool winter morning—and eventually past the already harvested fields. Soon enough, the skyline of a metropolitan city came into view, much to my relief; while I could live off of very little, I was no ascetic.

The fields gave way to thatched-roofed buildings, and the road smoothed out. Then, the thatched-roofed buildings gave way to stone, and the roads to cobblestones. Up ahead, the buildings turned to brick and metal, successively taller, but we stopped before that in front of one of the larger stone buildings.

“This is where I live.” Dusk pointed to one of the windows on the second floor of the three-story building. “That’s my place right there: up the first flight on the left. The address is 657 Evening Crest Road. When you get things sorted, you can come drop by and see me anytime you’d like!” She was visibly beaming. “Of course, I have work late at night, but if you drop by in the late afternoon or early evening, you can’t miss me!”

We moved on from the interesting duplex and into the heart of the city.

I steeled myself as more ponies emerged from their homes to continue their day. I received passing looks, but nothing too lingering. I had hoped that Dusk would cover for me in the event that we were harrassed, but thankfully, no ponies came forward. Up the blocks we went, and so too did the number of stories in the city’s buildings. Dusk told me that they weren’t even the tallest buildings in Equestria—just to the south, there was a city named ‘Manehattan’ that supposedly had highrises everywhere. But I was already impressed: the ponies had managed to build what appeared to be a typical modern city that wouldn’t look out of place in a twentieth-century America.

In the middle of the city, we reached our destination; an honest to God police department. Well, it was more of a depot. Fillydelphia Station was a stout two-story red-brick building that melded perfectly into the block of various commercial businesses. Ponies in sets of gold and blue armor moved to-and-fro; some ponies entered through the pair of swinging glass doors, and others were clearly setting out on patrols along Fillydelphia’s sidewalks. Dusk and I crossed the street and approached the station. We were given even less attention than when we had entered the city.

Passing through the glass doors unhindered, Dusk approached the counter. A peach-coated unicorn with a purple mane sat behind the glass barrier; like all of the other ponies, she was decorated in armor, hers being of the golden variety. She finished up with her paper and quill as I pulled up behind Dusk.

“Aura Gleam!” Dusk beamed. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Gleam rolled her eyes. “You say that every time you come in here, Ruby. Which is too often, might I add.”

“Hmph! Those flying ordinances are total haywash, and you know it!”

Gleam laughed. “Saddle down, filly.” Her eyes landed on me. “I see you have a… friend.”

“Morning, officer,” I greeted.

Gleam laughed lightly at that. “I’m blessedly not.” She gave me a curt nod. “Corporal Gleam. A friend of Ruby is a friend of mine.”

“Well that’s great, because I’m—” Dusk failed to suppress a yawn “—really tired, and I would hate to leave Jim without a nice pony to help him.”

“You’re leaving?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she began. “But don’t worry! Gleam is a good pony, she’ll help you! If you’re going to stay in town or leave, though, just drop by, okay?” She pressed a hoof to my shoulder. “Stay safe, Jim.”

I leant down. “Thank you again. For everything,” I whispered to her. I gave her a quick hug with an arm—which she willingly returned with her own foreleg—and watched her slip back through the front doors.

“Huh.” I turned back around and walked up to Gleam. “You must have a story to tell, Jim. Dusk doesn’t talk to too many ponies, you know?”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a pony, then.”

Aura Gleam went back to smiling. “Fair enough! So, how can I help you?”

“I’m a bit… lost.”

She tilted her head. “Do you need a map, or…?”

I sighed. “Let me put it this way: I have never heard of Equestria, or known that you ponies existed, until today.”

Gleam’s eyes widened. Her horn, which had been lit with a cloud of yellow earlier, lit once more as a filing cabinet behind her opened. Everything was lit with a cloud of yellow as a fresh sheet of paper whisked its way through the air to meet Gleam’s levitating quill.

“Jim, I have a feeling you and I are going to be learning a lot today.”

Author's Note

6-7-20 to 8-19-20.
I gave up on publishing this one standalone due to a few reasons that should be readily clear: it wasn't going to be groundbreaking and unique, and it was mostly to sate my thirst for a Fillydelphia HiE. One thing that I will say is different about it is that I used OpenAI through the AIDungeon interface to surprise myself: the AI was given free-will over a few of the ponies' actions, and I edited and wrote around its results.

There are two chapters to this story, and I think they are both fairly good for what could have been a fairly run-of-the-mill HiE. In any case, this chapter is a meaty little thing that goes beyond the word limit I naturally tend toward (~2000).

Overall, this story is interesting to look back on, and it might be something I write on my own time.

Also, Dusk Ruby is a generated pony that I found and edited, which ended in someone posting her on Derpibooru. And I love her.

I will hold full accountability for the fangs and freckles I gave her, and the chance to live and breathe in this story.

Scribe

Little Leap (Complete)

Dad always said there was something off about ponies. Always talked about how they were the work of the Devil. That Equestria was the place where men became sinners. The road to Hell.

If this is Hell, then let me stay with her.

The application for a visa was the biggest hurdle to get here. The flight two weeks back was populated with only a handful of people. I only knew that because most were business-class; I sat at the front of economy, alone. Or I would have if it weren't for her.

Little Leap is her name. She's an earth pony. A curling crimson tail. An equally red mane, backed by a ponytail she swears by. A tan coat that's softer than a chick's down. Two gorgeous, soul-gazing sapphire eyes. A cutie-mark with a crashing ocean wave, awash with foam.

She'd been looking for something on Earth. Came back on my flight when her time ran out. She wasn't too sure what she'd been looking for.

On that plane, she made a promise. A promise of purpose. To show me her world. To show me her side of Equestria.

Her hometown is a sweet place that's out of the way. None of the business types or journalists come out here. Most of the ponies are ambivalent to my presence, but many do accept me. They're good people. Quiet, but I can do that.

I love her. I haven't told her. Not yet. I don't want to ruin what she has. I don't know if she feels the same. I just want her to stay happy.

As long as Little Leap is happy, I'm happy.

Author's Note

12-2-20.
A stress piece.

Salt

Red Growth (Complete)

Roseluck was growing tomatoes.

Lily had suggested that Rose expand her garden. “Past flowers.” Roseluck had thought it an odd remark at first, but things became clear: the roses needed some friends! There simply wasn’t enough natural red in their world.

Tomatoes were red, and red came easy to Roseluck: her neighbor had been more than willing to part with their crop in exchange for a few of Rose’s own; her spare planter-building supplies made for a cheap conversion to stakes; and a tender touch assured the roses that they would be fine making room for new friends. Space was a precious commodity in the little hollow they called home, and one they’d widely explored under Roseluck’s watch. There was little room for other colors in the mass of green growth and red roses.

As the clouds gave way to morning, the flowers and vines stretched upward. The tomatoes threatened to keel over, and the roses bared their thorns. Roseluck tutted softly and trotted over to tend to the sagging vine. The tomatoes were proving to be a stubborn sort, but she could mend those traits with time; the greenhorns still had long to ripen red. They would learn that there was no hierarchy in their new home, and that no-one was to be treated the same. Every day was a cautionary tale, but mistakes were best made before they joined the roses in their parade of color.

Roseluck set her watering can down. Her left ear flicked, and she paused to listen. The town’s clock chimed for noon. The bell wavered off into the new afternoon breeze, and Roseluck left her garden to tend to her stock.

When she returned, she sat down before the patch of roses and tomatoes. They stretched lazily about in the sunshine, tempting Roseluck to join them. She smiled, shook her head, and stalked off for her shears; while the gophers had moved on, the weeds were ever eternal. She wouldn’t let them strangle her friends, even if the flowers and vines wanted to undo one another. They’d foster their mistakes in Roseluck’s garden: safe, yet ever-growing.

Author's Note

12-15-20.

I just wanted to write about Roseluck growing tomatoes. Truly, I am an enigma.