Books Are Heartwarming Things

It was a cold and stormy night...

Wait, let me rephrase that. It was more of a cold and stormy evening that was just starting to fade into night. The sky was a mixture of pinks, blues, and purples, and it was only a wind storm, raining in small spurts. The air was like a frosty mixture of freezing and warm, and-

I’m getting off topic, aren’t I? This isn’t the point of the story. The weather doesn’t even have anything to do with the story.

My story is about how books are the most amazing and mind-provoking things in the world. They can take you anywhere and can do more than just educate and entertain you.

This is the story of how a book changed a young filly’s life.

As I was saying, it was a cold and stormy night...

~*~*~*~*~

I poured the sugar into my cup of green tea and stirred it, levitating my book in front of me. The library was clean, Spike was in bed asleep, and I was into the chapter where she finds out he was a spy all along. It was a good night.

The library was not occupied, and hopefully wouldn’t be later on. It was too late for anypony to be coming in anymore.

Well, I had thought it was too late for anypony to be coming in anymore. But the door to the library slowly swung open, and I glanced up to see who my late-night visitor was. Surprisingly, it was a young filly.

She was a sweet rose color, with curly blonde hair tied in pigtails. Her purple eyes were wide and searching as she came in the door, but they didn’t appear amused. Taped on her leg was a note with large and neatly done hoofwriting, and she had a patched saddle bag over her back.

“May I... help you?” I asked as I got up from my pillow, trying not to sound confused or worried. I was failing at that, of course.

The filly looked at me, startled by my presence but unaltered all the same. Then, in a causal voice, she faced the shelves and said, “Oh, um, I’m just looking for a book for my mom.”

“Do you need help finding it?” I offered, but the foal whipped around again and shook her head quickly. “Oh, um, okay...”

I watched her scuttle around the room. Every time she stopped, she’d look at the note on her hoof, then back to a certain book, do a double-take, and keep going. It was like she was reading a foreign language or something.

Then I noticed another strange thing; the filly was a unicorn.

Okay, yes, her being a unicorn is not strange in itself, but the fact that she wasn’t using her magic was what confused me. She could have been levitating the note in front of her and could be picking up multiple books at once, but she wasn’t. Perhaps she couldn’t- though, at this age, she should have been able to.

After a while the filly finally noticed me staring and asked a simple “What?”

“Oh, nothing...” I replied and covered up by glancing at the ceiling. The filly raised an eyebrow before searching the shelves again. There was an awkward silence that would have lasted the whole night if I hadn’t spoken up.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle,” I said, walking toward her a bit. An attempt to start conversation at its worse. “What’s yours?”

She didn’t look over at me, as she was reading the spine of one book. “Rosy Cheeks,” she said quietly and put the book back.

“... Who’s your mother?”

“Sweet Cheeks.”

“Why couldn’t she come over here? Surely she wouldn’t let a filly your age go out in Ponyville alone at night?” She didn’t appear to be much over the Cutie Mark Crusaders age; there was a rosebud in the shape of a heart on her flank.

Rosy Cheeks stopped pulling out books and turned. “My mom can’t move much ever since she got really, really sick,” she answered, shuffling her hoof in front of her. “So she’s at home.”

“What book does she need?” Books are a good way to get back to health, after all. Especially when you have a disease that apparently makes you unable to travel. It's like soup but with words.

Instead of saying a title, Rosy Cheeks held up her hoof to show me what was written there. “Whatever this says.”

The note had said Little Fillies, and I thought it was pretty obvious, but Rosy Cheeks somehow had no idea. She continued to stare up at me with those huge violet eyes and I said, “It’s the book Little Fillies.”

Rosy Cheeks, wide-eyed, stared down at the note in disbelief. “It is?”

“Yes. Could you... not...?” I expected her answer, but I really didn't want to hear it.

Rosy Cheeks shook her head. “I can’t read. I kinda had to see if the pictures on the book match the ones on the note,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. A thoughtful pause. “Can you help me find it?”

I nodded, still shocked that the poor filly couldn’t read. She wasn’t able to experience the awesomeness of books! That must have been terrible for a foal her age! Something had to be done about it.

So, as I picked through the books, checking spine after spine, I decided to ask, “...You can’t read, correct?”

Rosy Cheeks nodded.

“Did you want to learn?”

“Is reading... fun?” She tilted her head innocently. Obviously this foal had been tortured or something of the sort.

“Fun?!” I exclaimed, making her jump. “Reading is the greatest pastime in the world! It’s like having an adventure in your hooves! Books can take you anywhere, anytime in just the flick of a page! I-”

The floor of my library teetered under me, and I froze in my wonderful speech. Rosy Cheeks gaped as I stood on the top of my chair. I guess I had jumped up there in all the excitement of books.

“See what books can do to you?” I said, showing her my best I-had-planned-this smile and hopped off the seat.

Rosy Cheeks frowned. “I don’t want to waste your time...” she muttered, looking down.

“It won’t be any trouble at all! How about tomorrow morning at 10?” I put the book in her saddlebag.

She sighed, then said, “Okay, I guess I’ll try.”

“Great! See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” said Rosy Cheeks and walked out of the door.

I watched her go, smiling and excited to see her the next morning.