The Thoughts of a Writer

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.