Finally....my decision had finally come through to myself. Why was I so stupid as to stay with them, much less the bustling life of Manehatten. I did always prefer the quiet serene ambiance of the rural towns like Ponyville so that is why I am moving there. That and I never liked my parents.
They had always nagged me that I won't do much in life and that I will be a failure at what I do or what I was interested in at the time. They don't need to tell me that I'm useless because I already beat myself up for it on a daily or hourly basis. Besides, how could they say that I wouldn't do anything in my life when I've already written a play before I graduated high school and it was recognized by those in Canterlot Broadway as a reasonable play (though they did say that they would perform it someday).
As I packed my boxes into the truck for them to bring to Ponyville, I was visited by a friend of mine who lived right next door; a young mare by the name of Thimble. This mare, she was my friend and my only friend for that matter that actually had stayed with me through thick and thin and through my various states of self-doubt.
"So..." she started as she looked down at the ground. "I suppose this is good-bye?" She looked up at me with those brilliant purple eyes and that tone that could hold a conversation for a good five hours. Those same eyes and that brilliant mind behind that horn of hers is what drew me to her creativity in design and plush-making ideas.
"It is never a good-bye, Thimble," I replied as I hugged her with my gentle might, "it is simply, 'I'll see you soon.'" I placed my saddlebags gently on my back and turned towards the truck that held my materials that once inhabited the room that I hardly do go up in besides sleep in (unless I'm punished by my father to sleep downstairs on the couch or the floor). I looked at the mare that stood by me and became such quick friends after hearing on how I wrote and how dumb I sounded in real life and smiled. I used my magic to take out one scroll from my bags and handed it to her. "For you when I have finally departed this town," I also handed her another scroll which bore my new address in Ponyville.
"I'll see you soon and I'll write to you sooner," Thimble told me as I shut the door behind me and opened up the window to hear her voice one last time.
"I'm sure to write to you first, Thimble," I replied with a kind smile as I sat down fully in the truck and motioned them to bring me to my final destination and my hopeful solace from my thoughts; Ponyville.
But my own thoughts wouldn't leave me alone during the trip to my solace, the voices that brought about my 'misunderstood' writings (as my mother and father would say to me, at least my brothers and my one true friend could understand what I had written). My voice of reason, I named her Lucy, yes I am aware that there is a female voice inside my head but that is besides the point, kept nagging me about "if this is the right choice," as she would say it.
"I have made my decision, Lucy, I will not turn back now," I argued with her as I brought out a notebook that contained the a draft of a story that I was writing.
"But why abandoned your parentage when they raised you from the ground up," Lucy argued back in my head as I looked through the old notebook. "They gave you everything, they gave you their love."
"Love? It was only mutual love out of their parents to their offspring, nothing more. I was accidental and unwanted by them in the first place. They even stated in clear truth that I was a honeymoon baby and they constantly joked that I was adopted when I got older. My parents didn't love me for who I was truly, a pony who wants nothing more then provide entertainment for the masses," I replied in thoughts as I looked over my third chapter, which in my thoughts is the introduction of the conflict to such a romantic comedy. "They didn't understand that I am, too a pony. They don't understand that I don't know what they went through in Kabayo. They think experience is passed down from generation to generation. It is not, as you can clearly see."
Lucy was silent, which I had hoped that it would finally quiet my mind of such a thought and I turned my mental attention to my voice of creativity, Brush as I would call him. He had always brought me such great characters to bring out in my written words. But oddly enough, he was quiet today.
Perhaps it was because of my final statement that I had said to my parents before I had left. That one final resounding statement that would probably make one of the princesses swoon at such words crafted by my lips and my avid mind that improvised such a deliberate speech in front of my parents and even my siblings whom I had a love-hate relationship. Though I can not dwell on such thoughts of the past and just allow me to live my life in the solace that I had finally and hopefully found.
It was about an hour out of Manehatten and it would take another thirty minutes to get to Ponyville so I thought I would brush up on my own reading. I took out from my saddlebags a notebook that bore the first draft of my first play after replacing it with the first notebook that I had taken out. Those who had read it, it is known to them as The Witch's Night but only to me and a few others, it is called Walpurgisnacht. I dunno why I call it that but I like the title and the sound of such a word's translation. I could've called it "Spring Festival" but what happened in that play, oh it was not much of a festival to begin with.
I looked over the first act of my play, where it introduced my band of characters, both old and young and the main conflict would divulge.
Walpurgisnacht, to me, is my greatest achievement thus far. A lengthy three act play with drama, comedy and death mixed into its bowl along with a cast of loveable and hate-able characters, each with their own power to give to the story. There are also many characters and references in the background that the play-goers will recognize if they brushed up on their contemporary popular novels.
As I looked through the pages of my drafted play, I remember the countless nights that I was up with Thimble and a glass of cider, discussing such ideas that would captivate an audience, or much rather in the case at the time, the panel of judges. I remember receiving a letter from one of the judges, a veteran author by the name of Twilight Velvet and it basically praised me on how well the characters and the story was written and how the idea was implemented. She also did give me some pointers on the stage direction (which I admit was my weak point in the writing of it, though I understood it due to the high school drama classes I took) but most of the letter was spent praising my blossoming ability.
Wanting to know a bit more on my praiser, I went about to the local library in the downtown of the bustling Manehatten to go about my small research project. Apparently, not only is she a best-selling author (though never could get in the top five of the Manehatten Times but always secured a spot in the top ten), but she is the mother to Twilight Sparkle, bearer of the Element of Magic, and Captain Shining Armor, Captain of the Royal Guard and current presiding ruler of the Crystal Empire next to his wife, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.
Though I had already set forth onto moving into the peaceful Ponyville, knowing this information now makes the move an interesting move set for me. I had known the Elements resided in Ponyville but before that letter, I knew I stood no chance in ever meeting such celebrities. But now, maybe I could delight myself on the thoughts of Twilight Sparkle.
But to talk to one Element means that I must talk to all. I think Rarity would be an interesting mare to talk to while Applejack would be a good mare to share a drink or two alongside with Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy might be hard to approach due to her shy nature and I, myself, couldn’t approach Pinkie Pie due to her energetic nature.
Yes, I think I will like living in Ponyville; so much inspiration in such a small town. I wonder if they have a thater so I could watch a play or two or maybe see some improvised comedy once in a while.
But now that I think about it, I had forgotten that I had a pen pal in Ponyville, a young mare by the name of Heart Note. Perhaps I should take the time to visit her when I get the chance to settle in. I also hear that there is a lyraist by the name of Lyra so maybe I could play a bit of piano with her.
“Sir, we are five minutes out. Please get ready to depart,” the main stallion stated, interrupting my thoughts.
“Very well, thank you for the warning,” I replied as I took out a bag of bits and placed it in the corner. “Your tip is in the corner.”
“Very well sir,” he replied as I placed my notebook back into my saddlebags. I gazed out of my window to see the two story homes, a library made from a tree, the town hall and several small cafes.
I smiled to myself as I could not keep my giddiness as I looked out at the town. I had found my solace, my sole paradise.
After an hour or so, I had finally moved into my small home just near the town border and rather close by the the library. I placed my certificate that I had gotten from the panel of judges for my playwright over the fireplace along with several pictures of my moments with my close friends, most of them containing Thimble and another mare by the name of Blossom. I hummed to myself a song that I was fond of, a song called “Paradise” by Coldplay. I knew that I was going to enjoy it here so I might as well sing about it.
But I had stopped my singing when I heard another voice sing along with me. I stopped in my tracks and looked around, searching for the source of those other notes and I found myself tracing it to my front door. The other voice was still singing and it was just outside my door. I peered into the looking hole to gaze upon a bouncing pink pony, the same bouncing pink pony I had feared on meeting. Behind her was an ominous looking cart.
“This couldn’t be who I think it is,” I thought to myself as I opened my door just a hairline crack to get a better view. My suspicion had been confirmed when my door burst open with a fanfare and confetti as I landed on my rump.
“Hey, you’re new in town, so I’m throwing you a ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party and everyone in the town is invited. Ooo wait, what is your name? Wait, let me guess, your name is Dark Note, no, Singing Eighth. That’s not right is it? How about Dorian? Or maybe Minor Major,” the energetic pink pony rambled as she tried on guessing my name.
This went about for two minutes more before she got on my nerves. “Hush you, young mare. Why have you come here to disturb my thoughts in my solace?”
“Ooo, you know the words of an old actor,” the pink pony replied, dodging my question entirely. “Have you read the Scoltish Play?”
“One should not mention such a cursed play unless one should rehearse it. Have you no sense of what that could do?” I reminded her in a quiet hush.
“Oh right, I forgot. How silly of me,” she giggled as she looked at me. She looked straight into my eyes, as if trying to see if I am lying or not, though I have yet to say anything.
I quickly looked away when I noticed her gaze on my muddy brown eyes. “Is there a reason why you are here,” I asked her when I finally escaped her piercing gaze.
“Oh, yeah! I’ve never seen you before in town and I saw that this house was up for sale so I figured someone bought the home when the sign was taken down. Then I saw mover ponies move furniture into the house then I saw you enter. I came here to give you a welcome party,” and she managed to say all that clearly in one breath, which was a feat in itself. “Oh yeah, my name is Pinkie Pie,” she added, looking at me. “So do you want me to throw you a party?”
“No thank you,” I stated as I looked back up at her. “But thank you for the kind offer. I must say that I do hate rather large parties, never really liked them. I’m not the party type.”
“Oh but everypony is a party type, you just need to find the right theme,” Pinkie stated. “Oh yeah, I guess never really guessed your name right huh?”
I cleared my throat slightly and nodded. “Yeah, you never did. My name is Story Book, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Pinkie Pie.”
“Ooo, from your name, you must write stories huh?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What do you write?”
“Mostly fictions like fantasy stories, romance and mystery.”
“How about non-fiction essays, I can see you arguing a point.”
“I have, I was an article writer for Canterlot Daily but was fired for having radical ideas.”
“You should be a columnist here for the Daily Letter. There is a position open for an advice column.”
“Perhaps I should take up on that offer.”
“You should, I’m sure the ponies here would like you.”
“Maybe that is what I need.”
“What do you mean?”
“Its nothing,” I looked down at the ground, realizing what I’m doing. I’m talking with Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter, the energetic one out of the bunch. She…is actually a rather nice pony to talk to. “Perhaps you should take your leave; I was in the process of writing a play.”
“Oh, okay then. It was nice talking to you. Come to Sugarcube Corner sometime,” Pinkie beamed as she turned around and pushed her cart of party items.
“Yeah, I will,” I assured her with a smile as she smiled back at me and left to go back to where she came from.
Pinkie Pie, she has defied my previous opinion on her and I am rather glad about that.
