Untitled pt. one of two [unfinished]

This was the first part of a what was originally going to be a two-part story before I abandoned it.

***

>Applejack had just finished telling the spookiest campfire story that Fluttershy had ever heard.
>The cowpony was always a good storyteller, but she outdid herself when she punctuated the reveal of the monster at the end of her tale.
>It all started innocently enough: a nice pony decided to go camping with some friends of hers over the weekend.
>They were all excited to go, but as they reached the entrance of the campgrounds they got stopped by a forest ranger.
>He told them all an old story about a pony-eating monster that lurks the woods at midnight during full moons.
>The protagonist no longer wanted to go, but when one of her friends brought up leaving the others teased her for being such a scaredy-pony, so the protagonist didn’t say anything.
>Sure enough, the further they went into the woods the stranger things seemed to get.
>They found enormous-clawed tracks, abandoned campsites, and trees that are damaged enough to look like they had been in a storm.
>All the while the protagonist was sure that something was following her and her friends, but whenever she turned around to look nothing was there.
>In the evening, as the sun was going down, they finally reached their destination.
>They set up camp in the middle of a grassy clearing, and they had gone so deep in the woods that by the time they started a fire it was already midnight.
>Some of the bolder friends began telling scary stories around the campfire and soon everypony was jumpy and nervous.
>The protagonist kept hearing a bush rustle behind her, but it’s the same story: whenever she turned around to look there was nothing there.
>Even if something was there it’d be too dark to see it.
>Talk then centered on the supposed monster that the forest ranger told them about, and the full moon hung over everypony’s shoulders.
>One of the protagonist’s bolder friends began telling a story about a group of ponies that disappeared in these woods a really long time ago.
>And when everypony was focused on her, when they were all leaned in, she got one of her friends to sneak up on the scaredy-pony and scream at her from behind.
>The scaredy-pony got so spooked that she ran into the woods and somepony had to go get her.
>But time went by and neither pony had come back; occasionally the bushes would rustle as if somepony was there, but then they’d stop once somepony called out toward it.
>The protagonist was thoroughly convinced that there was something in those woods now, which helped give her the brilliant idea of holding down the campsite while everypony else looked for the two missing ponies.
>It didn’t take long before the silence, save for the fire crackling, convinced her that her brilliant idea was not so.
>The protagonist was all by herself, in the middle of the woods, at midnight, while her friends were out searching for their deaths.
>The bushes rustled. She looked towards the noise but it was too dark to see anything.
>They kept rustling and she kept staring; she wanted to close her eyes and listen closely to see if it was her friends playing a prank on her, but she felt as if taking her eyes off of the noise for a second would be a fatal error, and the horrible monster that was in the woods would be running at her when she looked again.
>So she blankly stared. She was still, but the world around her and her mind were not.
>She must’ve stared for nearly fifteen minutes and still the rustling continued. If this was a prank by one of her friends they would have given up by now, or at the very least tried something else to get a better reaction out of her than paralytic fear.
>That’s when she realized that, indeed, it had been a very long time since she had seen, heard, or sensed any of her friends’ presence at all.
>She felt very alone again and she could not stand it; so she risked it and closed her eyes to see if she could hear anything.
>A low growl came from the dark.
>She didn’t even look to see what it was, because something inside told her to run; to get away from where she had sat frozen for so long, to get away from this campsite, to get away from the campgrounds like she had wanted to earlier.
>Soon it was so dark that she couldn’t see a thing; the treetops covered the moon and she had no idea where she was going.
>In her panic she tripped numerous times and sprang up numerous times until she fell particularly hard and sprained one of her legs.
>When she got up and tried to trot again her leg burned all over and she let out a scream in pain.
>A sound that could only be described as a tree branch breaking could be heard behind her, so she grit her teeth and began hobbling as fast as she could.
>But it was no use, because whatever it was that was following her was just getting closer and closer.
>She could feel it breathing on her back and she expected to be grabbed by the barrel and lifted up into the air any second.
>Then she went into the air, but only because she had tripped again and fallen off of a cliff.
>She gasped and woke up in complete darkness. The full moon was over her shoulder and there was not a sound to be heard; not even when she closed her eyes.
>The fire had gone out during her sleep. She felt the tip of her nose freeze first before the chilly air made her shiver all over.
>She slowly and quietly called out to her friends, but nopony responded.
>When she heard herself breathe the bushes rustled and there was a low growl.
>There was no telling where it was coming from exactly, and there seemed to be nowhere to run. The protagonist was not even sure where she was at the moment.
>She was so scared that she curled up into a ball and pleaded for somepony to save her.
>A towering force stopped before her and she heard predatory grunts.
>She was grabbed with scratchy claws that wrapped around her body.
>None of this she could see, but she knew now that this must be the monster that the ranger had warned them about.
>And as the monster brought her into the forest–“Rainbow! Quit tryin’ to scare her!” screamed Applejack.

>Fluttershy was already on the edge of her seat when Applejack’s sudden shout made her jump.
>“Shut up!” shouted Rainbow Dash from behind Fluttershy, who was now screaming and thoroughly spooked enough to consider running into the dark, surrounding woods.
>But the story had already made that notion seem quite ghastly, so Fluttershy instead turned around, pushed Rainbow Dash out of the way, and then cowered behind her log-seat from whatever spooky interjection was lurking around the corner and waiting to pop out at her next.
>“Y’all see what ya did? Y’all better apologize ta her right now.”
>“It was just a prank to go along with your awesome story, Applejack. Fluttershy understands, right Fluttershy?”
>Fluttershy’s hooves were covering her eyes, but she peeked out quickly to acknowledge her friend, and she heard and saw small embers pop up out of the flames of the campfire and disappear into the massive black abyss of the nighttime sky.
>And it was indeed an abyss tonight. There was not a star in the sky, and it was approaching the midnight hour.
>Some ponies say that the midnight hour is always the scariest, because that’s when all of your fears come back to you. Indeed, there’s a new day on the rise, but first light is very far away and undiscernible from the surrounding dark.
>What is in that dark is not seen, but felt.
>We often fill in the blanks ourselves when we look into the dark; when there is no sight at all to give us reassurance that our irrational doubts, worries, and fears are just that.
>Fluttershy trembled when she looked out at the surrounding woods now. Why did Applejack have to make her story about the woods? And why did her story have to be so similar to theirs?
>Rainbow Dash and Applejack had asked Fluttershy a week ago if she wanted to go on this camping trip, and she agreed to it.
>She thought maybe she’d get to spend some time with some new critter friends on camping trip to the woods, but Rainbow Dash insisted on hiking deeper into the woods until a “perfect spot” was found.
>They hiked so long that by the time they set up camp it was dark.
>It is just like Applejack’s story! And now Fluttershy could not help but feel like some horrible monster was waiting to grab her from behind and take her away.
>“Fluttershy, you know I was just joking around, right?”
>Indeed she did, but unfortunately Rainbow Dash had decided that grabbing Fluttershy from behind and trying to help her up was a good action to accompany the question.
>Fluttershy screamed again, and in trying to get away she started to flail her hooves wildly. She ended up hitting Rainbow Dash in the eye.
>Luckily hearing her friend yelp in pain was a sobering experience for the frightened mare, and she quickly went to Rainbow Dash’s aid.
>“I’m so sorry, Rainbow Dash,” said Fluttershy as she rushed to help her friend up.
>“Ah don’t see why y’all should be sorry,” said Applejack. “She deserves that for tryin’ ta scare ya.”
>Besides a little redness Rainbow Dash’s eye was fine.
>“Yeah,” Dash said as she rubbed her eye, “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. I didn’t think the story was freaking you out that much.”
>The two friends reconciled and then Rainbow Dash yawned and brought up hitting the hay; Fluttershy just couldn’t understand it though.
>Her friends were so brave, and she was not.
>After hearing a story like that how could they not hear the bushes rustle around their own campsite?
>Fluttershy could swear that the eyes of some monster were watching her now.
>The woods had been perverted now; she looked at them and shivered and no longer thought of the cuddly creatures that resided inside, and all of those wonderful visions of hope earlier had now been replaced by nightmares of being attacked by some monster hiding in the dark.
>And when the idea of sleeping had caught Applejack as well Fluttershy noticed that there were three tents and they’d all be separated.
>She became worried that she would lose her friends once they were out of her sight. Rainbow Dash had shown how easy it was to sneak up on somepony and grab them in the dark and Fluttershy couldn’t help but apply that earlier instance to her morbid fantasies.
>The monster watching them from the woods would strike when they were all alone and sleeping in their own tents. Even though it made her speech quiet Fluttershy asked:
>“Do you girls think that maybe we could all sleep in the same tent?”
>Rainbow Dash and Applejack shared a look before answering.
>“Fluttershy,” said Applejack, “We didn’t exactly bring any tents big enough for more than a single pony to fit in.”
>“Are you sure? Maybe if I hold my breath –“
>“I know what this is about,” said Rainbow Dash, who rubbed the back of her head.
>Fluttershy stuttered an inquiry.
>“Look, Fluttershy, I said I was sorry, and I meant it. So don’t worry one little bit. Okay?”
>Rainbow Dash smiled and held out her hoof for Fluttershy to bump, but the shy pony just raised an eyebrow at her friend.
>“Come on, Fluttershy, don’t leave me hanging.”
>Fluttershy gave her friend a weak bump and Rainbow Dash quickly got by her side and brought her in for a hug.
>“I knew we were still cool. And seriously, don’t worry at all. I’m not going to sneak into your tent at night when you’re asleep to scare you anymore.”
>“What!”
>Rainbow Dash sensed she had made a grievous error.
>“You didn’t know?”
>Fluttershy shook her head which was sinking down between her shoulders. Rainbow Dash let go of her friend and slowly began to back away.
>“Oh, I thought you… I mean” – Dash’s eyes were nervous – “I figured you must’ve heard me earlier when I was…”
>There was a long pause. Applejack and Fluttershy both spoke but stopped when they interrupted each other. Rainbow Dash faked a big yawn and before she could finish saying goodnight she was in her tent, all zipped up and making very loud snoring noises.
>“Typical Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack. “Ah’m sure y’all gonna get a real apology in tha mornin’ though.”
>Applejack grabbed a pail of water and began to walk towards the fire, but Fluttershy asked her to stop in a panic.
>“What do you think you’re doing, Applejack? You can’t put the fire out like that.”
>Applejack set down the pail so she could speak.
>“Ah gotta do it. Ah can’t leave tha fire goin’ all night long unattended.”
>“But… but…”
>Applejack sighed, “Ah know y’all are scared of tha story. Ya don’t gotta hide it from me; unlike some other ponies. But ah promise ya that it’s just a story. It’s an ol’ Apple family classic, really. And besides, there ain’t nothin’ out in them woods that is gonna get ya that ya can’t take down with a belly rub.”
>An apathetic okay was Applejack’s response from Fluttershy, and she didn’t want to say anything more. She felt so ashamed at being such a scaredy-pony that she would rather be awake all night than drag the issue out any further.
>“Ah’ll tell ya what, how’s about ah come check up on ya later ta see if you’re alright. Would that make y’all feel better?”
>Fluttershy thought it over and eventually agreed that it was a reassuring action. Applejack was much stronger than her, and much more a match than any monster, she thought.
>“Thank you, Applejack.”
>“Shucks, it ain’t no trouble. Might as well keep the fire goin’ seein’ as how ah’ll be awake a bit longer than normal.”
>The two ponies said goodnight and Fluttershy went into her tent to get all cozy inside of her pink sleeping bag.
>She laid down comfortably to where she could see the fire’s warm glow flickering from beyond her tent’s door. Applejack sat down and took off her hat. Her shadow was on the tent wall and it made her seem bigger than she really was. She grabbed her banjo and began to pick a lilting tune with the crackling fire as accompaniment.
>Fluttershy closed her eyes to listen. The dark made the sounds clearer and more relaxing, and the bushes no longer rustled with monsters, but with friendly critters.
>The soft pitter of rain hitting her tent–rain!
>Just then a rumble of thunder shook the ground and made the sky roar. Fluttershy’s eyes awoke to complete darkness. The wind outside was hissing all around as it began to throw the rain violently at the tent.
>She laid there curled up for a very long time. Why couldn’t she just stay asleep? There’s no way Applejack or the fire were going to protect her now. Stupid storm.
>Storm. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. No monster can withstand a storm like this without shelter. That awful monster has to be miles away in some damp cave by now.
>Fluttershy was all alone, and the reassuring thought helped lull her back to sleep.
>Right in the middle of slumber and consciousness though she heard the sound of a tent being zipped. The rain suddenly sounded a lot less muffled.
>Fluttershy almost got up, but then she figured that it was probably just Applejack coming to check on her, just like she said she would. She’s such a good friend, thought Fluttershy.
>Very clearly in the dark though a deep grunt could be heard seemingly from above her. Fluttershy forced her eyes open and looked out in the dark. She knew she had caught the gaze of something even though she could not see it.
>Lightning flashed and in that brief bolt of light Fluttershy could make out that something was inside her tent with her. It was bipedal, sopping wet, so big that it had to be hunched over to fit inside the tent, and it appeared to be wearing clothing of some kind. With its claws it zipped the tent up with it inside.
>Fluttershy finally found the courage to try and scream for help.
>“You better not,” the beast spoke. And the shock made her breath catch in her throat.
>The beast lunged and caught up Fluttershy in its long arms, trapping her in a wicked embrace on the ground. It places a muddy hand over her muzzle and squeezes her mouth shut. Fluttershy could barely breathe let alone call for help.
>“You better just shup up,” it said in a deep voice. Fluttershy suspected that this beast might be male.
>She tried to struggle instead, but he would squeeze her around the barrel if she did, and he said that he would not ease until she stopped. His arms were so strong that Fluttershy was sure that he could easily crush her ribs if he desired; and her lungs were already aching from lack of oxygen. She had no choice but to comply, and the only struggles she could afford to release where her shivers of terror.
>“You want to scream, don’t you?”
>The beast, he chuckled lowly. His hot breath on her neck gave her goosebumps.
>“I’ve been watching you all night, cutie. I heard every word you said.”
>Fluttershy muffled something and the beast moved his fingers out of the way of her nose so that Fluttershy could finally breathe; a long inhale occurred next to a sinister exhale.
>The beast used his huge hands to rub the soft fur on her belly. With each rub he kept going lower and lower and her crotch began to uncomfortably tingle.
>“I’m going to make you scream all right.”
>His fingers touched the top of her nethers. Fluttershy closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see them go up.
>“But if anyone hears you…”
>He grabbed at her crotch violently and she winced.
>“I’m going to have to hurt you. Do you understand?”
>Fluttershy breathed in abrupt gasps through her nose. Tears touched his hands. She nodded.
>“Either way, I’m going to enjoy myself.”
>The sound of a zipper being pulled down made Fluttershy think for a second that Applejack had come back for her. The rain hit the tent dully.
>Something hard and bulbous poked her buttocks. His massive–“Stop! That’s it! I can’t take it anymore!”

>Fluttershy saw that her wings were extended and she quickly tucked them back.
>Her friends were all nervously focused on Rainbow Dash.
>They sat together in the living room of Fluttershy’s cottage while Fluttershy addressed them from the front behind her podium; every night at the end of the week was spent like this.
>“Is something wrong, Rainbow Dash?” asked Fluttershy. She thought this was her best story yet, and she was confused at the outburst.
>“Yeah something is wrong.” But she did not get to say anything more because Rarity jammed her hoof in Dash’s mouth.
>“Don’t listen to Rainbow Dash. Everything is just peachy, dear.”
>“Yeah,” said Pinkie, “Dashie just thought we were playing Round-Robin.”
>“Err, no. Rainbow Dash just needs to go to the filly’s room,” said Rarity.
>“Because she ate some old Nightmare Night candy.”
>“No. It is because she needs to cool her head.”
>“Yeah. Cool her head. That what I meant – I mean, what she meant,” said Pinkie. “She’s a Lemonhead.”
>“Isn’t that right, Rainbow Dash?”
>Rainbow Dash glared daggers at Rarity and Pinkie.
>“See?” said Pinkie. “Look at how sour she is. That’s Lemonhead’s for ya.”
>“Come on girls, let’s not fight,” said Twilight. “I’m sure Fluttershy is almost done, right?”
>“Fight?” said Fluttershy.
>“What?” said Twilight. “No. No pony is fighting. Who said anything about fighting? You’re almost done, right?”
>“Well, no,” said Fluttershy. “My story isn’t even halfway done yet.”
>The room fell silent. Applejack pulled her hat down over her face. Rarity gasped and pulled her hoof out of Dash’s mouth.
>“You were licking my hoof!” said Rarity.
>“Well you were asking for it,” said Rainbow Dash, who began to scrape her tongue and spit.
>“I most certainly was not.”
>“Um, Rarity,” said Fluttershy, “Is hoof licking a fetish?”
>Everyone froze in place. Those exact words had been heard before by that audience, and the results had never been satisfying. Rarity cleared her throat.
>“Yes, Fluttershy, hoof licking is a fetish.”
>Fluttershy hummed. Her friends watched with horror when she began to write something down.
>“No!” said Rainbow Dash. “It isn’t a fetish. Don’t listen to Rarity.”
>“I beg your pardon,” said Rarity.
>“It probably is,” said Applejack, “Unfortunately.”
>“Are you sure?” asked Pinkie. “Maybe ponies just like to lick Rarity’s hoovesies because they taste like marshmallow.”
>“Marshmallow?” said both Twilight and Applejack.
>“Scented hoovesies,” said Fluttershy as she wrote something else down.
>“My hoovesies–my hooves do not taste like marshmallow. If anything they taste like coconut-island-breeze lotion.”
>Rainbow Dash spit. “Got that right.”
>“Come on now,” said Rarity, “I think I know what I said is true. Hoof licking is certainly a fetish that someponies indulge in.”
>“You’re missing the point, Rarity,” said Dash. “Do you want to be stuck here again next week?”
>Twilight rammed her hoof in Dash’s mouth this time. Twilight looked at Fluttershy; the shy Pegasus scanned her friends’ faces, and then looked down at her story with a frown.
>Twilight laughed to try and ease the tension she felt.
>“Okay everypony, that’s enough arguing for one day.”
>“One day?” asked Fluttershy.
>Twilight tried to backpedal and said:
>“Did I say arguing? No, I certainly didn’t mean to imply that anypony was arguing, or had been arguing before we even got here.”
>Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Nice one Twilight,” she thought.
>Fluttershy sighed and grabbed her story. She put it away in a little cubby that her podium had. She looked at her friends and asked:
>“Is something wrong?”
>Rainbow Dash ripped Twilight’s hoof out of her mouth, but Rarity quickly replaced it. Rainbow Dash screamed but her frustration was muffled.
>“Nothing is wrong, daring,” said Rarity. “We love your story. Please keep reading; quickly now.”
>“No,” said Fluttershy. “I want to know why you are all behaving so strangely. Is something wrong with my stories?”
>There was a long pause after this. Flutteshy looked at her friends expectantly as they all tried to find the courage to speak up. Except for Rainbow Dash, who was busy licking Rarity’s hoof to try and free herself. Rarity sighed.
>“You can stop licking my hoof now, Rainbow Dash. It won’t work this time.”
>Applejack groaned and lifted her hat up; she did not know how Anon and Fluttershy could fit in a tent together when two regular sized ponies could not; she did not know why Fluttershy had written such a terrible experience based on their own camping trips to Splendor Woods and turned it into–that.
>But Applejack did know one thing, and she said:
>“I can’t take all of this quiet anymore. We should just tell her the truth.”
>“The truth?” said Fluttershy.
>The friends all gave each other knowing glances. Telling Fluttershy the truth was a sure fire way to hurt her feelings, but they all knew that they could not continue on like this forever; dreading every Saturday night.
>Rainbow Dash nodded at Applejack; Applejack looked to the fashionista, but she still seemed conflicted; Rarity looked to Twilight and Twilight’s eyes darted between the brash and honest, and the polite and irresponsible parties; Twilight took into account the situation, and a previous lesson learned that said you should never be afraid to share your true feelings with a good friend.
>Twilight closed her eyes briefly and then nodded at Rarity. The designer’s jaw dropped. Pinkie Pie was nervously tugging at her mane; she just wanted everyone to remain friends and not hurt anybody’s feelings. When everyone looked to her she quickly nodded.
>It was down to Rarity now; either they would all agree to speak or none of them would. Rarity solemnly looked at all of her friends, saw that no matter which option they chose hardship was sure to follow, and she sighed and removed her hoof so that the dam of Dash could finally burst.
>But Rainbow Dash was silent. Fluttershy had waited patiently throughout, but now her focus was centered on Rainbow Dash.
>Rainbow Dash rubbed the back of her head and tried to think of a way to break the news gently.
>“Look, Fluttershy, your stories were cool when they were, like, five pages long, and they were just about sappy things like you and Anon skipping through flower fields, or whatever, but now all the stuff you write about is really weird, and it always takes you forever to read it.”
>Fluttershy’s ears went back.
>“You just don’t like my stories anymore?”
>She looked to the rest of her friends.
>“Does anypony like my stories anymore?”
>There were a couple hums and false starts, but they died quickly.
>“Oh,” said Fluttershy, “I guess not.”
>“Aw, don’t feel bad, Fluttershy,” said Pinkie. “Nothing is going to be fun if you keep doing it over and over and over and over and over and–“ Rarity jammed her hoof in Pinkie’s mouth. Pinkie hummed in satisfaction.
>“I think what we’re all trying to say is that we’re all just a bit fatigued,” said Applejack.
>“We didn’t want to tell you that though because we didn’t want to discourage you from writing,” said Rarity. “We think it’s great that you write these stories.”
>Everyone nodded.
>“But you don’t want to hear them,” said Fluttershy.
>Everyone wished that they hadn’t nodded.
>“Fluttershy,” said Twilight, “you’ve been chasing Anon for a long time now, and for a lot of that time you were too embarrassed to open up to us about it; even though we wanted to help you never wanted to talk to us about him.
>“We all thought you were bottling up your feelings. We were worried about you. That’s why when you told us about these stories we were thrilled, doubly so when you wanted to share them with us. It seemed like you were finally ready to open up to us about how you really felt. Like it was your own little way of telling us what you were feeling without really telling us.
>“But now the stories are different, just like Rainbow Dash said. They seem like they’re more about sexual frustration than anything else. They seem like sex fantasies that you should keep to yourself.”
>Twilight let out a heavy breath. Her next words rang true to everyone present.
>“We want to support you, but we just don’t really think that we can do it as an audience anymore.”
>Twilight and the audience looked to Fluttershy now. They expected a lot of things to happen, maybe she’d cry, maybe she’d run out of the room embarrassed. Fluttershy stood alone in front of them; she wanted to ask them if what Twilight said was true, but it seemed a silly question. Everyone was as uncomfortable and worried as she was standing there, and it was all her fault.
>“Okay,” is what she said.
>“Okay?” said a puzzled Rarity. “Are you sure it’s just okay, darling? We know your feelings must be hurt, but you can share them with us.”
>Fluttershy found it very disheartening for Rarity to say that. Sharing her feelings is what got her into this mess.
>“I know,” said Fluttershy.
>She then shared her feelings.
“But, I just want to be alone right now if that’s okay.”
>Fluttershy looked to her friends for an answer, since she couldn’t just leave the room abruptly unless she wanted to be followed – which she didn’t. Her friends had no answers for her now that the truth had been revealed. They all gave each other apprehensive glances that looked to the other for guidance.
>“You aren’t mad at us, are you, Fluttershy?” asked Pinkie.
>“No, of course not,” said Fluttershy. “If anything I think you all should be frustrated with me for forcing you all to do this for so long. I’m sorry.”
>Everyone began inching towards their respective exits.
>“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you sooner,” said Applejack.
>“No, it’s okay. I understand,” said Fluttershy. “I, um, I should’ve been able to see it for myself.”
>Twilight opened the front door; it was nighttime.
>“Are you sure you’re going to be alright, Fluttershy?” Twilight turned and asked.
>“Yes, I think so,” said Fluttershy. “I’ll come and talk to one of you if I’m not.”
>The friends headed outside.
>“We’ll be there if you need us,” said Rainbow Dash.
>“I know,” said Fluttershy.
>When you open a new door one of two things could be behind it: solace or ruin. The only definitive is that whatever is beyond that door, as long as it remains unopened, is in the dark; it is unknown, foreign.
>But it’s natural to assume that beyond that door leads to somewhere other than the beginning.
>Twilight closed the door and the friends all stood on Fluttershy’s front step.
>“Well that was…” Twilight didn’t need to continue; they were all thinking the same thing.
>“Sour,” said Pinkie.
>They all begin walking home, stewing in their misery. The crickets chirped and the sound of the small stream by Fluttershy’s cottage faded away. Soon they were on the quiet country roads that led to Ponyville proper. The wind blew through the branches and they clattered when they swayed.
>Rarity broke a long silence and said:
>“Winter was wrapped up nearly a month ago, and yet these nights always remain so chilly for a couple months after.”
>“I like it around this time of year,” said Applejack. “The sun is out by morning, but I can still see my breath.”
>Their feeble small talk died. There was no use talking about anything that didn’t pertain to Fluttershy, so no one bothered after that.
>“You girls don’t think that Fluttershy is going to stop sharing her feelings with us about Anonymous, do you?” asked Twilight.
>“I hope not,” said Pinkie. “I already told her I’d help be her wingmare at all of my holiday parties. I had a romantic moment all planned out for the two of them for this Saturday.”
>Pinkie stood up on her hind hooves and gestured towards the fantasy landscape before her, her front hoof swept it with awe.
>“Picture this girls: Fluttershy and Nonny all alone out on the balcony of Sugar Cube Corner. Two heart decorated cupcakes waiting for them. And then, when Nonny sits down, I jump off the roof wearing my cherub costume, aim my arrow of love at him, and–“
>“Darn it, Pinkie, I knew giving you those archery lessons would only lead to trouble,” said Applejack.
>“It sounds bad on paper,” said Pinkie, “but you’ll change your mind once you see it in action.”
>“Speaking of holidays,” said Rarity, “I do not think it was a good idea to tell Fluttershy what we really thought about her stories when Hearts and Hooves day is so close. I had plans to make her a stunning ensemble that would’ve made any stallion fall for her.
>“Celestia knows that it would’ve been better than anything she had planned herself. She is our friend, and she is wonderful, but she is not exactly a femme fatale.”
>“If you ask me,” said Applejack, “I think her attempts at courtin’ are just doin’ more to drive him away than catch his fancy. Funny if you consider how she was when she first met him.”
> “She could barely talk,” said Pinkie. “I don’t understand how anypony can barely talk anyway, but I make an exception with Fluttershy.
>“But this is her special somepony we’re talking about girls. Her special somepony! Celestia knows that if I ever found my special somepony there’d be nothing to stop me from talking to him.
>“I bet all I’d want to do is talk to him. I’d talk and talk and talk and talk and–“ Pinkie saw four hooves coming towards her mouth, so she stopped talking.
>“They became friends though,” said Twilight. “I was hoping things would’ve worked out once that happened.”
> “But you could tell that she still had her eye on him,” said Applejack. “I mean, you could always tell, but you know what I mean.”
>“I just don’t see why Anonymous never gave her a chance,” said Rarity. “I’ve always thought that the species gap was only a predisposition anyway.”
>“I don’t know about that,” said Applejack. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a mare who found him fetchin’ other than Fluttershy.”
>“You see my point then,” said Rarity. “Why choose celibacy over Fluttershy? It just seems meaningless to live a life without romance.”
>There was a silence.
>“I just hope Fluttershy isn’t really sad,” said Pinkie.
>“Would you all stop it already,” said Rainbow Dash with a groan. “I’ve known Fluttershy the longest out of all of us, and I know that she’s tougher than you all think. Just because she can’t bounce back as quickly as somepony like me doesn’t mean she isn’t going to be fine. We just need to give her some time like she said.”
>“I think that’s probably for the best, too,” said Applejack. “We just need to see how this goes for right now. Ain’t that right, Twilight?”
>“I. . .” she thought for a little. “I sure hope so.”

>The days flew past and the friends kept mostly to themselves for a while as they fell into their weekly work routines. Sometimes two of them would see each other, and one would ask the other if they had heard anything from Fluttershy, and they would say no.
>It wasn’t until two days before Hearts and Hooves that anyone had heard from Fluttershy. She came by Carousel Boutique and told Rarity that she would not have to make her ensemble anymore.
>But Rarity was already finished with it, so Fluttershy apologized and payed her friend for her work. Even though Rarity refused her money Fluttershy left the necessary bits on the counter. She then went to Sugar Cube Corner and told Pinkie that she wouldn’t be able to go to her party.
>Fluttershy used the same excuse when battled on her decisions: she just wanted to be alone for a while so that she could get Anon off of her mind. But this was well-known hogwash, because her friends knew as well as she that she had consensually had Anon on her mind since the day she met him.
>After much badgering Fluttershy relented and said that maybe she would show up at the party and pick up her ensemble, if she did not have any other plans. Maybe seemed suitable enough to release her on and there was some hope again.
>Rarity put Fluttershy’s ensemble by a well-lit window towards the front of the store so that, even though Fluttershy could not wear it right now, at least the customers could appreciate the beauty it had on its own. Many ponies asked about it and were disappointed to find out it had been sold already.
>The party at Sugar Cube Corner was a fun affair: with hearts hanging from the rafters, vibrations coming from the music and the ponies dancing on the wood floor, and the smell of red-velvet cake coming from the snack table.
>The friends – minus Rarity, who would be busy all day – all danced and waited for Fluttershy to come. Their eyes could not help but wander to the entrance and linger for any sign of their friend. The only one who did not look, by her own account anyway, was Rainbow Dash, who was assuaging all of their anticipation-filled queries by reaffirming that Fluttershy was indeed fine, and stronger than they all thought, and all she needed was some alone time, and that she would be here when she was ready.
>At Carousel Boutique Rarity was antsy throughout her busiest hours. The joy she took in seeing happy stallions and mares pick up their outfits for their dates was lessened by her hopes that Fluttershy would arrive. As the hours dwindled and the bell on her shop door rang less and less she found that she wanted more than ever to hear it again; the next customer would be Fluttershy.
>But it never was Fluttershy.
>The ensemble was gathered in the dark after hours; taken off of the mannequin and put away.
>The friends cleaned the remnants of the party in silence. After the last plastic cup had been tossed into the trash Twilight said:
>“There’s not going to be any more alone time for her.”
>They all shared determined nods.
>“I’ll talk to Rarity tomorrow morning and we’ll all meet where we agreed upon then. I’ll think of something by then.”
>Pinkie waved her friends goodbye from the window of her bedroom. She plopped herself on her bed and sighed. She did her best Granny Pie imitation and said:
>“Buck up, Pinkie Pie. Just because Fluttershy is sad doesn’t mean you have to be. Sometimes all a friend needs to do to cheer another friend up is to be positive and smile.”
>She nuzzled her pillow and promised that she’d be better in the morning.
>Everyone had been rejected.
>Fluttershy had tears in her eyes as she held a quill in her mouth and stared at a blank piece of paper.
>It was nighttime, all the critters were asleep and it was quiet, but it just seemed pointless now.
>She blew out the candle on her desk and went to bed. She dreamed of how everything could’ve gone better: with her friends, with Anon, with everything.

>The five friends gathered around by a bush that was on the road by Fluttershy’s cottage.
>“Here’s what we’ll do,” said Twilight. “We’re going to go in there and cheer her up.”
>“That’s it?” asked Rarity. “That’s all we’ve got?”
>“What do you mean?”
>“Well she wants to be alone and we haven’t heard from her in ages. Don’t you think that we ought to have something–I don’t know–more elaborate planned?”
>“You mean, like, a sure-fire thing?”
>“Of course a sure-fire thing,” said Rainbow Dash. “Come on, Twilight, if Fluttershy is as hurt as we think she is then we can’t just leave her feeling like that. We’re her friends, and it’s our job to cheer her up, right?”
>“Well,” said Twilight, “the way I see it Fluttershy isn’t going to be that thrilled to see us anyway. She’s probably still embarrassed. I think we should take a more humble approach first.”
>“Should I eat my chocolates that I brought her then?” asked Pinkie.
>“Um, no,” said Twiliight. “That should be fine.”
>“What if I already ate some?”
>“I don’t think she’s going to mind that, Pinkie.”
>They all looked to the cottage. Some birds chirped and the sun felt good on their fur. They could’ve stood in that spot by that bush for an eternity.
>“I suppose it’s now or never then,” said Applejack.
>“Right,” said Twilight. “Let’s just go up there and remind her that we’re there for her if she needs us.”
>They all shared determined nods and approached Fluttershy’s cottage.
>When they reached the door they could hear someone crying from inside. It made Twilight’s hoof stop just before she was going to knock.
>In a hushed whisper Rarity said:
>“Maybe now is not a good time.”
>“No way,” said Rainbow Dash, also in a hushed, albeit more aggressive, whisper. “We can’t put this off now. She needs us.”
>“Rainbow Dash is right,” said Twilight.
>“But I’ve just thought of something,” said Rarity. “Did anypony see Fluttershy at all yesterday?”
>No one had.
>“Yes, well what about Anonymous? Did anypony see him?”
>Again the answer was no.
>“So you see what I’m saying then? I wonder if our dear friend Fluttershy might’ve paid him a little visit on her own yesterday.”
>“And it didn’t go so well,” said Applejack.
>“Exactly.”
>The five friends faltered from the door; perhaps a plan would–“Who cares?” said Rainbow Dash.
>She opened the door, but only to about a crack before Twilight stopped it by grabbing the door with her magic. Fluttershy’s sobbing briefly softened and she was sniffling.
>“Rainbow, maybe we do need a plan,” said Twilight.
>“No,” said Rainbow Dash, “I don’t care who she’s upset with: Anon, us, it doesn’t matter. We’re her friends and we have to cheer her up either way, don’t we?”
>“Hello?” said Fluttershy from inside. “Is somepony out there?”
>“Rainbow,” said Twilight, “we don’t want to say the wrong thing to her and–“
>“No, Twilight,” interrupted Rarity. “Rainbow Dash is right. We cannot let such dreadful drama interfere with helping our friend.”
>Twilight knew her friends were right. Fluttershy called again from inside.
>They all entered Fluttershy’s cottage apprehensively. Inside, surrounded by her animal friends, Fluttershy was on her couch hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. She sniffled once and then said:
>“Oh, hello, girls. I, um, wasn’t expecting any of you.”
>Then she turned away from them and buried her face in her pillow. The friends kept their distance.
>“Fluttershy, are you okay?” asked Twilight.
>There wasn’t an answer.
>“We’re, uh, here to help you buck up,” said Applejack. “We haven’t seen you in a while, you know?”
>Again there was no answer and the friends shared looks of worry, all except for Pinkie Pie who approached Fluttershy with feeble cheer.
>“Fluttershy, do you want some of my chocolates?” asked Pinkie. “I got them for you. I’m sorry that I ate some.”
>She lifted her face from the pillow and Pinkie got a good look at her friends’ red eyes and dour brow.
>“I don’t want anything, Pinkie Pie.”
>Pinkie backed away from her friend and Rarity put a hoof on her shoulder.
>“We’re worried about you, Fluttershy,” said Rarity. “We just want to help you and see you happy again.”
>“I know, and I appreciate that,” said Fluttershy. “But I just don’t feel like seeing anypony right now. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”
>Rarity and Pinkie Pie retreated. Rainbow Dash had been watching with silent anger at the whole affair. She didn’t see how Fluttershy could be so weak just because of some stupid guy, especially when her best friends were right here by her side. The way Rainbow Dash saw it Fluttershy was so caught up in how she felt that she was disregarding the way that they felt.
>“Look, Fluttershy,” said Rainbow Dash indignantly; “we’re trying to cheer you up.”
>Dash flew over and tried to lift Fluttershy up off the couch from under her arms, but it was like lifting a sandbag.
>“Come on, Fluttershy. I know you’re tougher than this. Get up and forget about Anonymous already.”
>Fluttershy gasped and began sputtering.
>Under her breath Twilight said:
>“Good work Rainbow Dash.”
>The others knew that the mere mention of his name would bring about another round of loud bawling, but Rainbow Dash was unaware until Fluttershy turned to look at her abrasive friend.
>Dash’s stern face softened instantly and she put her friend down and flew back.
>“So, you all think the reason I’m sad has to do with Anonymous,” said Fluttershy.
>“Well the only other reason we can think of for you to feel this way is”–Applejack rubbed the back of her head–“well, you know, because of what we said about your stories.”
>“Yeah,” said Fluttershy.
>The room was silent until Twilight said:
>“I want you to know that we’re here for you if you want to share your feelings with us, Fluttershy.”
>Fluttershy closed her tear-filled eyes and nodded.
>“I know. I appreciate that you girls are just trying to cheer me up.”
>She turned away from them rested her chin on a damp pillow.
>“But I don’t want to be cheered up. I just want to be alone for the rest of the day.”
>She might as well have said for the rest of her life. The friends all looked at each other with solemn synchronization. They made their way to the door and shut it gently behind them.
>They went back to the bush where they had met up and stopped.
>“So,” said Twilight, “it’s obvious that we need a different approach. Does anypony have any ideas on how to cheer her up?”
>They began to ponder aloud with nary a definitive destination in mind.
>“I don’t know, Twilight,” said Applejack. “She really sounded like she just wanted to be alone.”
>“Well of course she does,” said Rarity. “How would you feel if the stallion you were courting turned you down on Hearts and Hooves day? Oh, she must feel so bad.”
>“I don’t think the supermarket has any cards for that,” said Pinkie. “We’ll have to make some.”
>“Maybe we shouldn’t make anything,” said Applejack.
>“No way,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’m not going to just leave my friend feeling like that. I say we somehow get her a date with Anon.”
>“Oh really,” said Rarity condescendingly. “And however do you think we are going to do that, Rainbow Dash?”
>Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I don’t know. We can’t just give up though.”
>Pinkie gasped. “We could bake him a cake that has a poem on it. Oh, but what should it say?
>“Roses are red, violets are blue, we baked you a cake, and got you a date, it must be fate, isn’t it great? Better go before you’re late. . . tastes like grape?”
>Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Grape? Maybe we could just bake him an apple pie, or some other kind of normal flavor.”
>Rarity cooed. “Maybe Pinkie is on to something. However, a cake is not romantic; it is fattening, but a sonnet, or a poem, or perhaps even a romantic macrame message on a pillow.”
>“Maybe we should make something.” Twilight pondered.
>“Yeah, sure; but come on, cakes, pies, pillows?” said Rainbow Dash. “If we’re going to do something we should do something big, like spelling their names in the sky… with fireworks!”
>“Don’t you remember what happened last time we went with one of your firework ideas?” asked Applejack rhetorically. “Cause I do. And I do not want to spend the night in jail again.”
>Dash rolled her eyes. “You’re still mad about that? That happened, like, an entire year ago.”
>“It’s a story worth remembering,” said Rarity.
>“It was so much fun,” said Pinkie. “A real blast.”
>Story, comfort, create, Fluttershy and Anonymous; all of these phrases were rolling around in Twilight’s mind
>Finally she came to an epiphany.
>”Girls, we should all write stories for Fluttershy.”
>Her four friends did not give her any encouraging smiles and nods, but that was to be expected.
>“Stories?” asked Applejack.
>“Alright,” said Twilight. “I know what you’re all thinking.”
>“Seriously, Twilight?” Rainbow Dash put her arm around Twilight’s neck which made Twilight purse her lips. “That’s what got us into this mess in the first place, remember?”
>“Yes, I remember.” Twilight pushed her off. “But think of how many ponies there are that find good comfort in stories. Wouldn’t you count yourselves in with those ponies?”
>“Well, sure,” said Applejack. “When I was a filly and I couldn’t sleep Granny would rock me in the cradle and tell me old Apple family stories.”
>“I love to see the reactions of  the members of my fan club whenever I tell them about something awesome I did,” said Rainbow Dash.
>“I think we can all agree that we enjoy stories,” said Rarity.
> “Yeah,” said Pinkie. “Remember the time Rainbow Dash snuck into the hospital in Ponyville to read Daring Do because she didn’t want us to know that she liked–“ Dash shoved her hoof in Pinkie’s mouth.
> “Yeah, yeah, we don’t need to remember that,” said Dash. “What does any of this have to do with writing stories?”
>“Here’s my thinking,” said Twilight. “We should all write stories like she does.”
>“You mean write smut?” asked Applejack.
> “No, I’m not talking about those stories,” said Twilight. “Nicer stories than that. You know, romance.”
>Her only responses were raised eyebrows and confused glances.
>Twilight sighed. “Look, girls, Fluttershy isn’t comfortable sharing her feelings about Anonymous with us for some reason. Her stories were the only way we could get her to open up, and I, well, I feel guilty about telling her the truth; about telling her what we actually thought of her stories.”
>“We had to tell her, Twilight,” said Applejack.
>“I know. I know we had to tell her. Between us all I’m pretty glad that she isn’t expecting us back later tonight. But, I still feel badly about it.”
>Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped. She pulled her hoof out of Pinkie’s mouth and thought.
>“I still think we should not have told her the truth,” said Rarity.
>“We had to though,” said Applejack.
>“But, Applejack, look at the mess it has gotten us in. We artists are very sensitive about our work.”
>“It’s different with you and her, Rarity. She ain’t makin’ dresses for a living like you are. That’s why we put up with your frou-frou behavior sometimes.”
>Rarity scrunched her nose.
>“I had a lot of fun the first time Fluttershy shared her stories with us,” said Pinkie. “I wish it had stayed fun.”
>“So what do you girls think?” asked Twilight.
>Rarity and Applejack were arguing, and Pinkie Pie looked like she was going to cry.
>“Maybe not so good then,” said Twilight. She went back to pondering.
>“I feel guilty,” said Rainbow Dash.
>Everyone stopped and looked at Rainbow Dash.
>“I think this might be all my fault,” said Dash to everyone else. “I didn’t think Fluttershy was going to be sad for this long. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve said anything when I did. Maybe Rarity was right. I don’t know.”
>“Oh, Rainbow Dash, you mustn’t be so hard on yourself,” said Rarity.
>“I’m not,” said Dash. “I want my friend, our friend, to be happy again. She needs to see that we really are by her side still. If we write our own stories, then, you know, she’ll finally see that. Does that make any sense?”
>“That’s exactly what I was trying to say,” said Twilight. “Plus I think it would really cheer her up, too. So I suppose I’ll ask again: what do you girls think?”
>“This is exactly like the time you all finished my dress,” said Rarity. “I think it is an exquisite idea.”
>“Now that I think about it, not only do I get to write a super-fun story, but I get to write a super-fun story about two of my bestest friends,” said Pinkie. “Why didn’t I see this earlier?”
>“I’m in,” said Rainbow Dash. “But I’m not writing a romance unless I get to do it my way.”
>“Of course,” said Twilight. “So, we’ll write our own stories and share them with Fluttershy. Are we all agreed then?”
>Everyone nodded except for Applejack. This caught the eye of everyone and Applejack shrunk from their stares.
>“Uh, yeah,” said Applejack. “It sounds great… I guess.”
>“Is something wrong?” asked Twilight.
> “No, I don’t think… well, I don’t really think I’m much of a writer, Twilight.”
>“What? Applejack, how can you say that?”
>“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, “you only tell, like, the best stories whenever we go camping.”
>“Yes siree,” said Pinkie. “Nothing makes a s’mores taste better than a little bit of spine-tingling horror.”
>“That’s different,” said Applejack. “That ain’t writin’. Besides, a lot of those are just old Apple family stories that I put a spin on. I didn’t come up with ‘em.”
>“That doesn’t matter, Applejack,” said Rarity. “You make those stories completely your own.”
>“Don’t you know that sharing is caring?” asked Pinkie.
>“I don’t know,” said Applejack. “Wouldn’t it be alright if I maybe just baked a pie or somethin’?”
>“A pie?” Rainbow asked incredulously; it echoed how everyone else felt.
>Twilight wasn’t sure as to why Applejack did not think she could write a suitable story, but she saw that the sun would be going down soon, maybe in a couple of hours, and she wanted to get all of this done as soon as possible, because soon Sunday would be over and the work week would start again and everyone’s schedules would be complicated.
>“I don’t see anything wrong with that, Applejack,” said Twilight. “I’m sure Fluttershy would appreciate that.”
>“Thanks, Twilight,” said Applejack.
>“Come on, Applejack,” said Dash. “Can’t you even try to write something?”
>“I explained myself, Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack.
>“No you–“
>“Just leave her be, Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight. “She’s contributing in her own way and I’d really appreciate it if none of us got at each other’s throats with this.”
>“Can’t we just have fun?” said Pinkie.
>Dash growled and then sighed. “Fine. But only because I’ve been craving some apple pie recently.”
>“The pie ain’t for you, Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack.
>“Well can you make me one?”
>“Sheesh… I suppose I can.”
>Rainbow Dash pumped her hooves and threw an arm around Applejack’s neck.
>“You know something, you’re alright, Applejack.”
>“Yeah, is that right?” Applejack pushed her friend off. “Well you’re a pain in my neck sometimes, Rainbow Dash.”
>The two friends smiled.
>“Alright, girls,” said Twilight, “we want to get this done before the day is over. So let’s say that we’ll meet back here in about two hours. Okay?”
>“That’s awfully a short time-frame,” said Rarity. “I shall make it work though.”
>Everyone else agreed and everyone ran off to go to their separate ways, except for Twilight and Applejack.
>“You know,” said Twilight, “you could probably write a great story. Those Apple family stories didn’t make themselves.”
>“That right? Well you’ve written more than any of us have, what makes you so sure that I could do it?”
>”Easy,” said Twilight. ”It’s because you’re a pony. That’s the most important tool a writer can have, because you already know what a good story needs. Write what you feel.”
>Applejack hummed and turned away.
>“I’ll see you later, Twilight.”
>“Good luck.”
>Applejack sighed. No matter how hard she or anyone else ever tried to hide it from Twilight she always seemed to know when someone was thinking hard about something.

>Twilight figured she maybe had about five minutes she could spare. Besides that it really was a pointless endeavor, but she figured it was worth a shot anyway.
>Twilight Sparkle had to make a quick stop on the way home, but she only realized it as she was passing by the familiar house.
>It was a house that did a good job of sticking out. The door was very tall and the doorknob was high up to where no pony could possibly reach it, but the doorbell and the peephole were at pony height.
>And unlike most others this door was not split in half horizontally in the center. There was only one doorknob, which usually implied that the door lead to somewhere where privacy was expected, like a bedroom.
>But this was the front door.
>Twilight rang the doorbell and she heard a deep voice beller, “Just wait a minute.”
>The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard from inside and they stopped at the door. There was a sliding noise and Twilight could tell that she was being looked at from the peephole and she looked at the ground.
>The door opened and before her stood Anonymous the human. She looked up so that she could see his face. His top two buttons on his shirt were open but he held the two pieces of cloth closed together with his hand.
Hey, Twilight. What brings you by?
>“Hello, Anonymous, I was wondering if we could talk.”
Uh, sure, let me just…
>He looked around a bit as if he was waiting for someone.
I have to get my suit and tie on and finish buttoning. You can come on in. Just close the door behind you.
>Twilight came in and closed the door with her magic. Anonymous was looking through his closet for a suit.
>Twilight always felt very small inside Anon’s house. Because of his size everything had to be built specifically for him.
>That meant that everything was slightly bigger or taller than she was usually used to, which was odd considering the castle that she lived in.
>She thought that perhaps seeing Anon walk around and use said over-sized items was what always made it so disorienting.
>The whole reason he came to Ponyville was because Princess Celestia thought that it would be easier to accommodate his special needs here rather than in a big city like Canterlot, where he was originally staying. “The bigger the city, the less space there is to go around,” is how she put it.
So what’s up, Twilight?
>Anonymous was putting his tie on and looking in a mirror.
>“I came to ask you something.”
Alright, shoot.
>“Well, this is going to sound bad at first, but I want you to think about it before you answer.”
>Anonymous sighed and turned away from Twilight so she wouldn’t see him purse his lips. She saw him anyway since he was still standing in front of the mirror when he did it.
Ask away.
>“Anon, we stopped by Fluttershy’s cottage today.”
We?
>“Oh, the girls and I stopped by her cottage.”
>He nodded.
Yeah, yeah.
>Anonymous had slowed up now while putting on his tie. He was too busy listening to Twilight and dreading what she would ask of him.
>“We came to her cottage, and she was not happy. We think she might be depressed, and we’re worried about her.”
Uh huh.
>“The girls and I are going to stop by later, and try to cheer her up.”
>Twilight looked away briefly. Anonymous stopped pretending to dress.
>“Well, Anon, I think it would mean a lot to her if you came with us when we did that.”
>Anonymous slowly blew air out of his mouth and let his next word draw.
Yeah… I really don’t think that’s a good idea.
>Twilight went up to him and stood next to him. She looked up at him and saw the side of his face that was not acknowledging her.
>“Why not? You don’t have to do anything. Just showing up would be enough.”
Look, I think your idea is a good one, but the part about me going with is a bad one.
>“I know the two of you have your differences–“
Understatement of a lifetime there.
>“Please don’t interrupt me.”
>He nodded.
Sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll hear you out.
>He knew he could be very unnecessarily defensive and rude when it came to Fluttershy, and he even considered Twilight a friend.
>“I just think it would be a nice gesture is all, if you came with us while we tried to cheer her up. Don’t you think so, too?”
I suppose in theory that would be true.
>“So why not come with then?”
Well. . . why do you think she’s so sad in the first place?
>Anonymous ambled to the door. Twilight stayed where she was and rubbed her arm.
She came over yesterday and tried to ask me out. She hasn’t done anything as simple as that in a really long time, but it didn’t really help. She hadn’t been by nearly all week by that point and I was pretty thrilled about it. I thought maybe she might’ve moved on finally. Then I saw her at my door yesterday…
>“What happened?”
I didn’t blow up at her or anything, but I did reject her. I did it really coldly, too, deliberately. She seemed, different. Sort of nervous, like how she was when I first met her.
>He leaned on his door and looked at Twilight.
Did I mess up?
>“No, I don’t think so. Maybe you were a bit cruel, but Fluttershy is a bit, well… she’s a little stubborn when it comes to you.”
That’s what I like about you, Twilight, you understand both sides of things, even if you like to understate everything.
>Anonymous smiled and Twilight smiled back; only half of the reason for doing so was out of courtesy.
>Twilight began to move towards the door. She was running out of time and there was no way that Anon was going to go anywhere near Fluttershy tonight.
>“I guess I can understand why you wouldn’t want to see her tonight then.”
>Anonymous wanted to say “only tonight though” in a joking way, but he didn’t.
I just think I’d complicate things. Fluttershy and I have had our own thing going on for a while now, you know?
>“I understand. . .  or, at least I don’t question it.”
Not all the time anyway.
>He opened the door for her and she stopped before exiting.
>“Anon, why don’t you like her?”
>He shrugged, but his answer was always the same.
She’s a pony and I’m a human. She just doesn’t seem to understand that though.
>“Where are you going then?”
>He drew out a long sigh.
Dunno. Everyone always asks me that and–
>Twilight giggled. “No, I mean where are you going today?”
Oh, I’m going to get some lunch meat so I can make my lunches for work.
>Twilight looked and saw the sun was quickly making its way to the east; soon enough it would be touching the horizon.
>“Well, you better hurry before the deli closes. You know they close early on Sundays.”
I would’ve been gone by now if a certain pestering purple princess hadn’t come by.
>“Goodbye, Anonymous.”
>Twilight walked out and closed the door behind her with her magic without looking. She was in a good mood.

>Twilight trotted into her castle happily and humming.
>Spike was sweeping up in the throne room when she crossed his path.
>“Hey, Twilight, you aren’t chewing on your hooves anymore. Did it go well?”
>“It went super,” said Twilight. “She’s still depressed, though.”
>“Uh, did you hear what you just said?”
>“Let’s walk and talk, Spike.”
>He was all too happy to put his broom down.
>“So let me get this straight,” said Spike. “She’s still unhappy, but you think it went well.”
>“We have a plan this time, Spike. I think it’s a good one, too.”
>“What are you all going to do? Is there anything I can do to help?”
>“Are you sure you want to help, Spike? Didn’t you say that this whole business with Fluttershy was ‘mushy stuff’ and you weren’t sure that you could stand it if you helped?”
>“That was ages ago.” It was last night. Spike waved a claw. “Tell me what’s up. Now that you have a good plan maybe I’ll reconsider.”
>Twilight knew it was a good plan, so she smiled and said: “We’re all going to write stories for her.”
>Spike did not know if this was a good plan. When he did not say anything he fell under Twilight’s expectant smile.
>“Isn’t it a good plan, Spike?”
>“Well,” he sighed, “no. It isn’t.”
>“What? Why don’t you think so?”
>“Well, isn’t that kind of what got you into this mess in the first place?”
>Twilight groaned. She realized that her great plan was the kind of great plan that always needed to be followed with explanation when she shared it, and those were hardly worth coming up with.
>“I mean, come on, Twilight, who came up with that plan anyway? Was it Pinkie Pie? It also probably could’ve been Rainbow Dash now that I think about it. Definitely not Applejack, though, because she’s got some sense.”
>Twilight gritted her teeth. “No, Spike.”
> “You mean”–he put his claws up to his mouth in shock–“it was lady Rarity who came up with the awful plan?”
>“It was me.”
>“Oh.” Spike wiped sweat off his brow and breathed a sigh of relief. He said:
>“Good thing it wasn’t Rarity. If it was then I would’ve besmirched her honor.” Then realization hit him and he twiddled his claws in embarrassment while Twilight frowned at him.
>Twilight pursed her lips as he looked up at her and smiled.
>“I’ll just get back to my cleaning.”
>But Twilight grabbed him with her magic before he could run away. He sighed, realizing that escaping was fruitless, and said:
>“Or I guess you could explain this great plan to me.”
>Twilight did so as the two of them made their way to her study.
>Twilight’s study would be the runner-up for the most organized chaotic workspace in Ponyville if it was not for Rarity and Carousel Boutique.
>While it is true that Twilight is a very organized mare, she is also very smart, and she knew that creativity is fickle, and it does not like waiting around for her to organize it before it deludes itself with foggy expression.
>This particular study–there are many studies in Twilight’s castle–was the one that Twilight retreated to whenever a burst of creativity overcame her. The desk drawers were filled with scribbled notebooks and scraps of papers with treasures written on them.
>The desk was also the one item in the entirety of Twilight’s castle that had coffee rings on its surface.
>Books on helping teach and foster creativity went here as well.
>Twilight liked to study the arts and the creators who made them. When she was young she sometimes thought she would grow up to be a scholar, a writer, or a critic, and she would have long talks with Smarty Pants about which would be best.
>Later she had considered trying her hand at writing anything from poetry to criticism many times, but her love of studying magic always held her interest more than anything else; and this was why she was now the princess of friendship: and that was her destiny.
>Still, a hobby is a nice thing to have: especially when destiny can keep one so busy all of the time.
>She had finished explaining her plan to Spike.
>“Well, that plan actually makes some sense when you put it that way,” said Spike. “And you’re in the Spike-free study, too. You’re really going to do this.”
>“Yes I am.” Twilight cleared a space on the cluttered desktop and placed a notebook, an ink bottle, and a quill on it.
>“What’s your story going to be about?” asked Spike.
>“Don’t know yet. But I’ve been thinking on something Anonymous said to me today, and I think I might have a theme to work with.”
>Twilight looked at the tiny space she had made for herself and realized that it did not feel like enough.
>She needed what she called “thinking space,” so she started moving everything off of the desk.
>“So what’d Anon say?”
>“He said that because he was a human and Fluterrshy was a pony that they couldn’t be together.”
>“What? That’s silly.”
>“I know.”
>“The reason they can’t be together is because Fluttershy always acts weird around him and he always gets upset about it.”
>“But, Spike, they have so much in common, and I don’t even think they realize–what are these doing here?”
>Twilight lifted a box of crayons form out the clutter. She knew she had some watercolor paints in here, but she didn’t remember any crayons.
>“Oh, those are mine.”
>Spike grabbed them out of her magical hold and smiled.
>“I’ve been looking for these babies. This is the only box that has the Macaroni and Cheese color.”
>Twilight just shook her head and finished clearing the desk.
>“You’re probably going to need coffee, right?” said Spike.
>“That’d be super. I’ve got an hour and a half to write this and I need to stay focused.”
>“Gotcha. One blend of focus coffee coming up.”
>Twilight heard Spike stop at the door and she knew he wanted to ask her something.
>“What is it, Spike?”
>“I was just wondering, if you finish early can I make some illustrations for your story.”
>‘Finish early?’ thought Twilight. ‘I haven’t even started yet.’
>Still, his confidence in her did make her feel good. And more importantly Spike’s drawings would show Fluttershy that he was thinking of her.
>“I think that’s a great idea, Spike. Why don’t you go get started right now.”
>“Thanks, Twilight, I will. Oh, this is going to be sweet. I think I’ll draw a lava scene first.”
>Twilight rolled her eyes with a smile, and just hoped that he would remember to put Fluttershy and Anon in his drawings.
>And that he would remember to make her coffee.
>Twilight took her ready quill and stared at the blank page. She was thinking about where she should start.
>“Once upon a time,” she said as she wrote it down. The sound of the quill writing on the paper was exciting.
>But now what? Twilight wasn’t sure how to continue.
>She pursed her lips. ‘I thought the beginning was supposed to be the hardest part, not the second line after the beginning.’
>She remembered reading something about first drafts of stories: that it was alright if the quality of the first draft was shoddy.
>‘Wait a second. Where did I read that again?’ She looked at the stack of books that she had left on her desk and realized they were all about drawing.
>‘Well, that won’t do.’ And she moved them all and replaced them with the books on writing that she had found the most insightful.
>She found the quote in the third book that she looked through and felt assured; her instincts proved to be correct.
>‘Okay,’ she thought, ‘I’ll spend thirty minutes writing the first draft, just to get it done, and then I can write the final product.’
>She found, however, when she faced the paper that she was still only staring.
>‘I just need the exact words to get going again. Once I get the right words to start again I’ll be able to keep going without stopping.’
>So she thought and thought about the right words to write. This was for her friend, after all, and it needed to be perfect.
>“Perfect.” Twilight swallowed the word like a cold, hard lump of oatmeal.
>What would happen if she didn’t do this story right?
>What if Fluttershy doesn’t like her story?
>Would it make her a bad friend if she wrote a story that Fluttershy didn’t like?
>Twilight shook her head and laughed to herself.
>‘I’m being silly.’ She looked out the window. ‘Fluttershy is going to like whatever it is that I do. I need to stop worrying so much and figure out what to write next.’
>So she thought about what the right words would be. And she stared out the window until she thought:
>‘I’ve been staring out of this window forever now and I have nothing!’
>Twilight didn’t really understand why she could not come up with anything more to write.
>She had a theme she wanted to work with, and the characters were Fluttershy and Anonymous.
>What was keeping her back?
>She looked through one of the books again and found a page about plot.
>A plot outline. That would surely help her get on the right track.
>And she would get to use notecards. What a thrill!
>So now the plan was to create a plot outline, then write a rough draft, and then write the final finished story.
>Twilight had a bunch of notecards lying before her now, and she was trying to figure out how she was going to get from A to B in her story.
>On one card she wrote down her goals that she wanted to accomplish for her story, and the plot had been figured out.
>However, she realized that it would be more satisfying to get to point B if there were more challenges in the way of the progression.
>Point B eventually became point C. By the time she had figured this out there were hypothetical D’s, E’s, F’s, and G’s that she was sure were necessary inclusions.
>Twilight finished her plot outline with over twenty notecards being used to contain what would be happening in her story; Twilight stayed in the lines when she wrote, both on the front and the back.
>She was quite proud of the fact that her story covered this much ground, but then she remembered that the information on these cards still needed to be written.
>Not only that, but it was possible that her story could expand even more during the real creative process.
>The real creative process! She hadn’t even done that yet.
>How much time was left?
>For the first time Twilight realized that she did not have a clock in this room.
>‘That’s ridiculous. Why did I never put a clock in here?’
>She pondered this as she looked out the window, and she soon remembered that the reason she never had a clock put in this room was because she thought it would be distracting.
>‘Well, I guess it’s good that I didn’t put a clock in then.’
>“Twilight, I finished my drawings.”
>Spike came in the room with a good stack of drawings in one claw, and Twilight’s saddlebag being dragged along the floor in his other claw.
>He held up the drawings and Twilight took them in her magic and looked at them.
>“Tell me what you think. I used the Macaroni and Cheese color for Fluttershy’s coat.”
>The first drawing was of Fluttershy (she looked like a potato) and Anonymous (a watermelon tree) flying over an erupting volcano, with Spike (a toad) guarding what looked like a bunch of jewels.
>Twilight could easily guess that the other drawings were most likely similar.
>“These look nice, Spike.” She gave them back. “But I have to finish my story before I can look at all of them.”
>“Okay, I’ll just”–he put his drawings in her saddlebag–“there. Wait, do you think I should sign my name to them before you leave?”
>“Sure.” Twilight wasn’t really listening.
>“I’d better hurry then.”
>“Why?”
>“Uh, why what?”
>“Why do you need to hurry?”
>“Didn’t you say that you only had an hour and a half before you had to go?”
>Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
>“Spike, how long have I been in here?”
>“An hour and a half. I figured you would’ve been getting ready to go by now.”
>Twilight’s eyes shot open. “Oh no.”
>She looked at the work still ahead of her and shook her head.
>“This is not good. This isn’t good at all.”
>“What’s wrong?”
>“Spike, I didn’t finish my story.”
>“You didn’t?”
>“No, I didn’t. And I’m supposed to have it done by now so I can give it to Fluttershy.”
>“Can’t you just tell her that you aren’t finished yet?”
>“No!” Twilight was shaking.
>“Okay. Sheesh. Well, it can’t be that bad.”
>Spike walked up to Twilight’s desk, stood up on a drawer handle so he could see the desktop, and he grabbed the first sheet of paper he saw.
>“Well, you sure took a lot of notes.” Spike hopped down to the floor.
>“Spike, this is going to sound bad, but for the first time in my life I’ve regretted the notes that I took.”
>Spike rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’m sure it isn’t that bad.”
>And five seconds later he said:
>“Twilight, this just says ‘once upon a time’ on it. Is this the first draft or something?”
>Twilight gulped down an entire cup of coffee to help calm her down.
>“Oh, well, what were those notecards? Is the story on there?”
>“Technically, yes, but a lot of these ideas were supposed to be expanded on.”
>“So don’t expand on them then.”
>Twilight sighed. “You may be right, Spike. I’m going to have to scale back if I want to get this story done at all.”
>“Of course I’m right.” He went over to the desk and opened up a junk drawer, and there he found a clipboard. “Here, write on this while you go. And, most importantly for you, don’t worry so much.”
>Twilight smiled. She pushed her seat back and got out. Twilight and Spike touched cheeks.
>Her saddlebag was soon packed with everything she needed.
>“You really are my number-one assistant, Spike.”
>“That’s why I got the coffee cup.”
>He grabbed the cup Twilight was drinking from–it said “Number-One Assistant” on it–and walked with her to the front door of the castle.
>“I think you may be right, Spike. I’ve already got a lot of the story figured out, so I should be able to get it done if I focus on writing it. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?”
>Spike nudged her leg. “Not for you.”
>She pulled out a sheet of paper and secured it in the clipboard. She could easily walk and write if she used her magic.
>Twilight was heading out the door.
>“Good luck. And if Fluttershy really likes my drawings tell her that I’ll be happy to frame them for her.”
>Twilight rolled her eyes. “I will.”
>The door closed. Twilight turned towards the direction of Fluttershy’s cottage and walked.
>She lifted the clipboard up and looked at the blank space she needed to fill.
>‘Now I just need to find the right words, and then I can continue and finish this. It shouldn’t take that long.’

>As the evening approached, the dwindling sunlight peeked through the trees of her apple orchards.
>It was usually very calming, but Applejack had an occupied mind.
>She had a pie to bake. It was always nice to bake an apple pie from the apples she grew on her farm, but this time she couldn’t help but have an upset stomach about the whole thing.
>All of her friends seemed so eager to do this whole writing thing; it’s like they all knew they could do it.
>What made them so sure?
>Twilight and Rarity could probably do it no problem; with Pinkie Pie it was always hard to tell, but she’s always been creative, that’s for sure.
>But Rainbow Dash writing?! What was that all about?
>Rainbow Dash can’t even tell a campfire story without making a mistake; Applejack remembered Dash’s hokey story about the Headless Horse.
>She distracted herself from the upsetting business by putting the finishing touches on her two unbaked pies; they smelled like cinnamon, and sweet, tangy pieces of cut apples.
>The pies went into the oven and she closed the door and pumped on the blower a bit to stir the fire.
>Big McIntosh stuck his head in the kitchen and sniffed loudly.
>He smiled at her, but she shook her head at him.
>“These pies ain’t for you or me. I’m makin’ them for Fluttershy.”
>Big Mac blew air out his nose and watched her with squinted eyes as he backed out of the kitchen.
>Applejack pointed at him and shouted:
>“You stay away from these pies, Big Mac.” But she knew it was no use saying anything like that.
>Her brother had always been a notorious pie-hound, and she knew that she would need to keep a close watch on him.
>The kitchen was hot inside–especially on her face– so she opened a window. She peered out the window, leaning on the windowsill and feeling the nice breeze.
>She thought about how uncomfortable it was to be hot inside, but how nice it is to be hot outside; especially when there’s a campfire going and you can really feel the heat on your nose and forehead.
>Around the campfire was where the Apple family told their stories: when everyone was gathered together in the dark.
>She sighed and backed up a bit. The ding of the oven door opening was faintly heard and she looked and saw Big Mac looking in the oven and eyeing the pies greedily.
>“What are you doin’?” He jumped and quickly shut the oven.
>Applejack stared him down and cornered him in the kitchen; her cold stare made sweat drip from his brow.
>“If you even touch them pies I’ll hogtie you and throw you in the mud like the piggy you’re actin’ like.”
>All he could do was nod with a forced smile.
>“I’m watching you,” said Applejack. She sidestepped to let him pass her, and Big Mac watched her the entire time to see that she kept her word about watching him.
>She was; and the clip clop of his hooves hitting the wood floor accompanied his backwards retreat. He found himself nodding frantically again.
>Satisfied, Applejack looked at the pies she was going through the trouble of defending and got a quick, almost fleeting thought that baking pies in her house was just as troublesome as writing would be.
>She followed an impulse and beckoned her brother back:
>“Big Mac, wait.”
>He stopped at hearing his name and winced; it seemed to him that she wasn’t taking any chances. And now he just wanted whatever punishment or berating she was going to give him to happen quickly.
>Applejack took her hat off. “There actually is somethin’ I want to share with you.”
>‘Share?’ he thought. Sharing made him think of a smaller piece of a larger whole, and that made him think of slices, and that made him think of pie.
>Big Mac nodded once more; and he licked his lips.
>“Do you think I could be a writer?” asked Applejack.
>He stopped just short of putting his favorite apple pie-eating bib on. “What?”
>“I know it sounds silly, but everypony wants me to write a story for Fluttershy to make her feel better, and I just don’t know if I can do it. I ain’t ever written a story before, and this is to make a friend feel better, too. If I mess it up somehow I’ll feel just awful.
>“I don’t know. Do you think I can do it?”
>Big Mac opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing; his favorite apple pie-eating bib fell to the floor.
>“Big Mac?”
>‘I just wanted pie,’ thought Big Mac. ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’
>“Um, have you tried it yet, Applejack?”
>She scrunched her nose. Twilight’s departing words dug at her again and she said:
>“Of course I haven’t tried it. If I don’t think I can do it then why do you think I’d try it? Were you even listening?”
>Big Mac hummed. “Hogwash.”
>“What did you just say?”
>He sighed. “The Applejack who’s my sister doesn’t just look at somethin’ hard like that and back away from it. If anythin’ she’ll run everypony ragged and worry ‘em to death by overdoin’ it. If you don’t want to tell me what’s really goin’ on right now then that’s fine, because you know I’ll be around if you change your mind.”
>Applejack’s face was hot again. She should’ve known better than to put one over on her kin. Big Mac turned around, flicked his tail, and left.
>“Oh, and I’m definitely gettin’ that pie,” he said from the hall.
>‘He’s right,’ thought Applejack. ‘What the hay am I so ashamed of?’
>She went into the hall. “Big Mac, wait a minute.” But he was nowhere in sight.
>‘Now where could he–‘ she heard the back door in the kitchen squeak ‘–applesauce!’
>He had oven mitts in his teeth when she caught him.
>“Almost had me that time, big brother.”
>He spit the oven mitts out. “No matter how many times I oil that hinge it always squeaks.”
>“Alright, so here’s the thing about me writing. Twilight wants us to write. . .”
>She winced and sighed. Big Mac was sure to laugh at her when she told him what she was thinking of writing, but she was ready to take bruised pride over hiding her problems from her own kin.
>“Twilight wants us to write romance.”
>Big Mac raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s strange.”
>She sighed in relief, and was glad that he was serious about helping her.
>“You’re tellin’ me.”
>“But I know what you can do,” said Big Mac with a grin. “You could just write down the story of great-great cousin Apple Root, and how he hiked across Volcano Valley to marry our great-great cousin Apple Sapling–oh, but make sure you specify that they weren’t cousins when they married. Ponies always seem to misinterpret that part for some reason.”
>“No can do this time, big brother. The story also has to be about Fluttershy and Anonymous.”
>His face looked sallow now. “That’s, um, quite the tall order.” His strong chin drooped.
>“Yeah, I know. It’s like writing all that mushy stuff wasn’t going to be hard enough considerin’ I don’t know all that much about it. And now Twilight wants me to write about two of my friends…”
>A heavy blush surrounded Applejack’s freckles. “Well, you know what I’m gettin’ at.”
>Big Mac coughed. “Yeah.”
>Applejack smiled. She was glad he agreed.
>“So, you got any advice on what I should do, Big Mac?”
>“Nope.”
>“Nope?” She got in his face and he looked away. “Nope?! What do you mean nope? I just got done sharing all that with you and all you’ve got to say is nope?”
>“Uh. . . eeyup?”
>“Why, after all that talk you gave me before–and to tell me that, I oughta–” Applejack lunged forward and Big Mac ran out of the kitchen.
>As he ran to the hills he thought:
>‘Nope. Definitely never signed up for that.’
>She stuck her head out the window.
>“I know you’ll be back! And when you come back I’ll catch you, and you better believe that you’ll hear an earful from me!”

>The wind whistled in Rainbow Dash’s ears, just like it always did when she was going extra fast.
>There was a rainbow trail behind her coming from the colors flowing off of her wildly-flapping tail and mane.
>Her eyes watered from the wind resistance, and air pushed itself past her teeth and into her mouth where it made her cheeks and lips flap.
>But this was nothing to Rainbow Dash. This was thrilling to her if anything.
>‘And thrilling is just what my story is going to be,’ she thought.
>She closed her eyes and flew through her cloud door; and when her body moved through that soft cloud wall, she closed her wings and brought her back hooves forward so that she could come to a complete stop on her floor–which was made up of thick clouds.
>The momentum tried to topple her and push her off of her hooves when she landed, but Rainbow Dash knew when to hold her ground. She let her tail and mane whip forward with a smirk on her face.
>She struck a pose in her own home, puffing out her chest.
>“And that’s how you bring it on home.”
>For a brief moment she thought there was applause, but she opened her eyes and saw that it was just paper–mostly bills, and junk mail she never threw away–that had been blown into the air by her entrance.
>She watched the individual papers sway back and forth in the air like porch swings. With a grimace she flew around the room and gathered up the mail in her arms one envelope at a time.
>When she finished she put the mail on a nightstand, and reminded herself that she needed to find a better spot to put the mail sometime soon.
>The little whirring of Tank’s motor alerted her to his presence. She smiled when she saw him.
>“You ready for dinner, Tank?”
>The tortoise closed his eyes, and Dash knew that meant yes, because it was always followed by a nod that took him minutes to finish doing.
>She brought him three crisp and cool piece of lettuce that she put in a tin bowl for him on the ground.
>Tank landed a couple inches away from it, and a couple minutes later he had reached the bowl and was eating.
>“No rush, Tank,” said Dash with a smarmy smirk. She liked to say that whenever he started eating.
>Rainbow Dash figured that she had better get started on her story for Fluttershy as soon as possible.
>After all, Tank was going to want to go flying once he had finished eating, and she couldn’t do that if she was stuck writing.
>She got a piece of paper, some ink, and a quill, and went to her desk.
>“Alright, this shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll get this done for Fluttershy in no time.”
>Rainbow Dash leaned back in her chair and pumped her hooves at her desk.
>“And it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait to see everypony’s faces when they hear me read my story; they’ll be all, like, ‘Oh, Rainbow Dash, you’re fast, awesome, and a genius?!’ and I’ll be all cool, like, ‘Yeah I am. Didn’t you know?’”
>Rainbow Dash turned around in her chair.
>“Does that sound right, Tank?”
>The tortoise stiffly turned his attention to her; and he blinked and Rainbow Dash was satisfied with that.
>“Bet your shell it does,” she said with a smirk. She liked to say that whenever he agreed with her on something.
>Rainbow Dash took her quill in her mouth and started writing. She already had an idea of what the story should be about, and that idea was enough to get about a page done before she hit a block.
>The quill shifted in her mouth as her lips pursed.
>‘I wrote that the temple was big and scary,’ she thought to herself. ‘But for some reason that doesn’t really seem to cut it.’
>She spit her quill out and decided to look to her literary hero, Daring Do, for inspiration.
>But what she found only seemed to confuse her more.
>Now that she really payed attention to the descriptions of some of the temples, she realized that a lot of what was written in Daring Do made absolutely no sense at all.
>She reread a certain part again, this time aloud:
>“The Temple of Terror towered over Daring–just as it must have to all of the other adventurers who had entered it and never exited. Its bleached stones overgrown with vines only helped make the temple daunting in its survival of the ravages of time as well as its size. If a structure as grand as this could survive the harsh elements of nature, and the unforgiving jungle surrounding it, then surely the Amulet of Adulation that was rumored to be inside it was protected as well. But that also meant that she could count on the temple having protected nearly everything was inside its walls: including all of the traps, pitfalls, and predators that she was sure she’d come across once inside.
>“Daring looked inside the temple entrance and saw only darkness. Her spine-tingled as she got out the necessary equipment that she would need to fashion a torch. When the first light of her torch hit the inside of the temple she only saw more of the same grimy stones and tiny patches of weeds that had grown in the cracks. But these visions had now combined with the acrid smell of the temple: all the dust, the decay of structure, and, unfortunately, the familiar sour decay of bodies: which was also followed with the sickening metallic smell of dried blood.
>“Daring wretched. A funeral dirge of death danced in her mind; it was taunting her, just as it must have to the many other lost adventurers who never left this temple. Daring focused on the sound of her hoofsteps clip clopping on the stones as she advanced into the temple: with her nose always just short of falling in the dark.”
>Dash’s jaw dropped and she shook her head.
>That’s a lot of writing just to describe one temple.
>All she remembered about this book before was that this adventure of Daring’s was the one where she found a tribe of cannibals living in a temple; and they threw snakes at her when she tried to take the Amulet of Adulation.
>The thing about remembering only that though, was that, for Rainbow Dash, that was all she really needed to get out of the book to encourage her to read it over five times and consider it one of her favorite adventures in the Daring Do series.
>Thinking back on it, Rainbow Dash didn’t even really remember ever reading this particular part of the book; she figured that she must’ve skipped over it whenever she had read it.
>But that was fine with her.
>She wasn’t really sure how a “funeral dirge of death” could dance in someone’s mind just by going into a temple; and she didn’t know what that phrase meant anyway.
>‘How the hay does something dance in somepony’s mind?’ she asked herself. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
>Rainbow Dash was resolved in her writing now. The temple in her story was dark, and it was scary, and it was full of bad guys and treasure; and that was all anyone needed to know.
>When she had written her description of the temple down she read it back to herself and admired her work.
>She read it to Tank and asked:
>“See, Tank, isn’t that perfectly fine on its own? I think I should have a talk with Daring about these parts of her stories whenever I see her next.”
>The tortoise finished his last lettuce leaf and looked at her; and then he slowly turned his head so that Rainbow Dash’s gaze would follow his. He directed her to the door.
>“Tank, I don’t think I can go fly with you right now. I have to finish writing this story for Fluttershy.”
>The tortoise opened his mouth and then closed it; Dash scoffed.
>“Don’t be that way, Tank. This is going to be an awesome story, even if it is a romance. Trust me, buddy.”
>Dash focused on writing her story again, but whenever she really got into what she was writing Tank croaked, voicing his displeasure at his owner’s sudden writing ways.
>“You really want to go out, huh?” Dash sighed.
>She looked at her paper again. She had reached a point where the words weren’t coming very easily to her–but Fluttershy needed her to finish this story, so she would.
>But at the same time, writing wasn't exactly as fun as she thought it would be.
>Dash just found it a lot more rewarding to read about Daring’s adventures than to try and write one herself.
>“Whatever”–she scooted her chair back and headed to the door–“I can finish it in no time after I fly for a while.”
>Just as Dash was directing her attention to him she saw that Tank was trying to get his propeller started on his own again.
>Whenever he tried to start his propeller on his own it always ended the same way: he would extend his neck up towards one of the blades, putting his whole body forward in the process, until he eventually lost his balance and fell on his side.
>Tank was croaking and wiggling his legs in a panic before Rainbow Dash made it to his side.
>She laughed and placed him back on his feet.
>“Lost your patience again, did you. You know, that’s the only fast thing about you, Tank.”
>Dash had heard Spike make a remark about Tank that was like that once, so she liked to repeat it whenever it was appropriate.
>“Whenever it comes to flying you just can’t wait. But that’s okay, because I’m like that, too.”
>With one push of Dash’s hoof Tank’s propeller whirred to life. She helped him put on his goggles and held the door open for him so he could fly out into the sky.
>“What would you do without me, buddy.”
>That’s when a surge of inspiration lit a fire in Dash’s heart.
>“That’s it! I know what to write now.”
>She trotted over to her desk and wrote in an almost epileptic frenzy; by the time she had come out of that trance she was writing the words “The End.”
>“I did it.”
>She looked over her finished story with pride.
>“I actually did it. I knew I could!”
>The story was put back down on the desk, and Dash, elated, flew out of her house, doing a corkscrew, spinning through the air and cheering.
>“I just wrote the most awesome story ever!”
>When she was outside she did a victory dance in the air: shaking her rump, doing the wave with her arms, she even snuck the Monkey in there.
>Her and Tank had a lovely, if very energetic, post-dinner flight. By the time they had finished it was time for Dash to meet up with her friends.
>She flew into her house, gathered up the scattered piece of paper that made up her story out of the air, and–after a couple last minute additions to her story’s presentation–she made her way to the meeting place Twilight had set for her and her friends.
>Soon, she would get to read her story to her friends; and they would all love it, and the fantasy that she had imagined earlier would come true. She just knew it.

>Applejack pulled the finished pies out of the oven and set them on the windowsill so they’d cool.
>As she was doing so she also winced, with her eye twitching as her legs quivered.
>“Consarn it, I got to go to the bathroom, but I just know that sneaky brother of mine will be here in no time now that the pies are out.”
>“As big as he is he sure can move quietly when there’s pie in the kitchen,” said Granny, who had just popped up from under the windowsill outside.
>“Them pies sure smell good, too,” said Granny. “He’s gonna be here if you leave.”
>“Granny, can you watch these pies while I go to the bathroom?”
>She rubbed her chin. “Why don’t ya just take ‘em in the bathroom with ya?”
>Applejack winced at hearing the word bathroom again. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
>“Well, yes, but apparently it ain’t a very good’un. You go on ahead and take care of your business, I’ll watch the pies.”
>Applejack thanked her Granny and did just that.
>As she was walking back to the kitchen from the bathroom she came across Big Mac in the hall. He was rubbing his ear and hissing.
>“That ain’t fair, Applejack. You know no pony has ever gotten a pie past Granny.”
>She laughed and pushed him against the wall as she walked by.
>“Never said I was going to play fair, big brother.”
>The pies were safe and Granny was giggling.
>“I thrashed him pretty good. I think ya might be safe for a little while now.”
>“Thanks a million, Granny.”
>“Oh, it’s nothin’. Why are ya makin’ these pies?”
>“They’re for a friend.”
>“A hungry friend, I’d imagine.”
>Applejack pursed her lips. Granny knew that Applejack never made pies willy-nilly, and that something was going on that she wanted to know about.
>Granny wasn’t going to stop until Applejack had fessed up to what that something was; and since Applejack had already decided earlier that she wasn’t going to hide anything from her kin, she opened up and said:
>“I’m makin’ these pies instead of writin’ a story.”
>“Is that right? Ya lookin’ to be some kind of writer now?”
>“I don’t know, Granny. I don’t think I’m really the writin’ type.”
>“Well, not everypony is. Especially myself, what with my awful memory I got these days.”
>“Granny, has anypony in our family ever written down one of our stories.”
>“I don’t think so.”
>Applejack lowered her ears.
>“Oh, I thought so.”
>Granny hummed. “Well, actually–oh, my awful memory. Let me think here a bit.”
>Applejack’s interest grew and she leaned in. Granny licked her lips and mumbled some.
>“As a matter of fact your great-great cousin Apple Root tried to write about the time he sailed through the Great Equestria Canal on a boat made out of Apple family trees. He was the first pony ever to do that, too. And when he reached the shore he proposed to your great-great cousin Apple Sapling–course they weren’t cousins when they got married.”
>“Granny, Big Mac told me not even half an hour ago that great-great cousin Apple Root hiked through Volcano Valley, and then married great-great cousin Apple Sapling.”
>“Is that what happened?”
>“You mean you don’t know?”
>“Well, I’ve heard that story told so many different ways it’s hard to remember which story was the one that actually happened.”
>“Oh, forget it. Tell me what happened next with his writing.”
>“Who’s writin’, dear?”
>“Apple Root’s.”
>“That’s right. So your great-great cousin Apple Root tried to write down his story one time, but I don’t think he ever finished it. He sure liked to tell it though.”
>“Why didn’t he ever finish it, Granny?”
>“Well, he was old by then; and he didn’t have a real great memory–not at all like me.”
>“So no pony in the Apple family has ever really written anythin’?”
>“Don’t think so. But them writin’ types sure like to write down what we Apples say n’ do. Apple Root’s story has been written down as a tall tale by lots of other pony’s lots of times. And remember that summer when those history ponies came by and stuck all them tape recorders at me for the Ponyville history book. Writers seem to come to us plain folks for their stories. I don’t know why it’s that way, but it is.”
>Applejack had never thought of it that way: Of all those great writers coming to them and thinking that the stories they told were worth writing down.
>“I don’t know why that is either, Granny.”
>“Why what is?”
>“Uh, nothin’, Granny, say, do you think you could watch these pies while I go take care of somethin’ real quick?”
>“No can do, you’ll have to find somepony else to watch your pies while you’re in the bathroom. I got a bridge game at the senior center that needs playin’. That wicked ol’ Pear Snip ain’t gonna beat herself.”
>“Well, alright then. Have fun, Granny. I’ll think of somethin’ to keep that pie thief away.”
>“You know all this talk about stories is makin’ me hanker for a campfire. What say we all get together for a cook out tonight?”
>“Can’t do it tonight, Granny. I’m going to be at Fluttershy’s.”
>“Alright then, that’s your loss. But I’ll save ya some weenies in the kitchen anyway.”
>Suddenly, the two of them heard a door creaking. Applejack was sure it was Big Mac, but the kitchen door was closed.
>The creaking noise sounded again, and it was coming from inside the kitchen.
>They followed the noise to the sink, and opening the cabinet door under the sink Applejack found Big Mac wedged between pipes and laying uncomfortably on top of the various bottles of cleaner that they had.
>He just smiled that cheeky smile of his when Applejack frowned at him.
>“How did you even get under there?”
>“Told ya he was sneaky when there’s pie about,” said Granny.
>“Well, what the hay do you think you’re doing,” asked Applejack.
>His eyes darted to and fro. “Um, there was a leak. And–”
>“Yeah, I’m sure. Get out of there.”
>Big Mac sighed and fidgeted a bit. As Applejack’s patience was running out his pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and he said:
>“I don’t I think I can.”
>“For the love of–Granny, you’re going to have to help me butter him up before you go.”
>“Fiddle-faddle. I’m goin’ to be late now.”
>“Apple Bloom, I need you to get down here and grease up your big brother!”

>Rarity had a giddy trot all the way home to her boutique.
>That fire, that brilliant flash of white light, that spark of creation was alive in her; and it was lighting up her eyes, creating sparkles that looked like a dozen tiny droplets of water reaching the sunlight as they fell away from a torrential waterfall.
>Her stomach tickled; she was excited. For she not only had a new chance to create in the downtime of her busy season, but it was for the benefit of a friend as well.
>And not just any friend, but for Fluttershy: a pony Rarity saw as desperately needing her help and expertise.
>All of those doubts she had at Fluttershy’s doorstop before had melted away before the light of her inspiration. How could she possibly have thought earlier that it was not right to trifle in Fluttershy’s sensitive romantic troubles?
>No! Rarity’s friend needed her and she was sure to help her. And luckily for Fluttershy, Rarity was sure that she knew just how to go about doing this.
>Twilight’s idea for stories was indeed a fine catalyst, but Rarity saw what needed to be done to help Fluttershy indefinitely; and it followed an old maxim of hers, too: make a pony a nice ensemble and they’ll feel stunning for a day, but make a pony feel fabulous and they’ll feel stunning for the rest of their days.
>The door to her boutique swung open and she cherished the bell ringing in her entrance.
>The boutique was back to normal again; the chaos of yesterday’s holiday had been cleaned and the floor was no longer littered with textile patterns and stray needles (poor Sweetie Belle had been pricked more than once).
>Her boutique looked presentable again. Her fabrics had been rolled up and put away in their respective neat little cubbies, all of the strings and yarns had been re-spooled, and the unfortunate Hearts and Hooves designs that had not been picked up were now displayed on the mannequins–they may have been forgotten, but they were still fabulous.
>This quiet, favorable bliss soothed Rarity’s soul. She took a deep inhale through her nose and held her head high as she walked with the poise of a winner.
>‘Now if only I had a cup of tea,’ she thought; but there would be time for that later.
>She took her glasses in her magic and set them on her nose. Her cat, Opal, had gotten her chubby tummy out of her bed and greeted Rarity with a meow.
>“Oh, Opal, hello, I bet you’re hungry.”
>The cat responded by rubbing herself against Rarity’s leg.
>They both went to the kitchen and Opal purred when Rarity filled the cat’s porcelain dish with tuna.
>“Well, I suppose I’ll have that tea now. Tea soothes the soul, Opal. Have I ever told you that?”
>The wet smacks of Opal’s mouth eating were her answer.
>“Yes, and hot tea also warms the belly. These things are important for us creative types. But I’ve certainly told you about that before, haven’t I?”
>Opal swished her tail and kept eating. Rarity put her tea kettle on the stove; she made Camille tea that she would later put honey in.
>“I’m putting my hoof forward in a brief new project, Opal. Rarity’s writing endeavors begin today. Isn’t that exciting?”
>Opal looked up at Rarity as she chewed her food, but it wasn’t really an acknowledging glance.
>“Yes, I’m glad you agree. But I feel I must say that this step towards authorship was not premeditated; it was Twilight’s altruistic whims that led me on this journey, but, to my credit, I was all too thrilled to put my hoof in. And do you know why, Opal?
>“I’ll tell you why: it’s because Fluttershy needs me to show light on the error of her ways. Her attempts at courtship have been ghastly affairs, and I watched them, along with my friends, just knowing that they could go better if she had simply seen her silly embarrassment for the silliness that it is and asked us for help.
>“But she would not. She would not, and now, at the time of her lowest point, I shall come in and show her the path to redemption . . . with the help of my friends of course.”
>Opal was licking her paw and wiping her forehead.
>“However, I shall use my story to show her that what her life–and her attempts at courtship–is crucially missing is romance. I swear she has the brain of a stallion when it comes to romance: all about sex with her. You should’ve heard the ghastly story she wrote last weekend.
>“And yet, she’s so submissive, and so sexually frustrated.”
>Rarity poured herself some tea and stared into the cup, thinking.
>“I have to figure out what kind of lover she really is. I do want my story to be authentic. Is that weird? You don’t think I’ll embarrass her if my story is too risqué, right?”
>Opal was licking her leg.
>“Yes, you’re right. As unnerving as it may be to think of my friend that way this is all for a greater cause. I must feed this inspiration as much as I can; my work must be passionate, I understand that now. Thank you, Opal.”
>Opal had fallen asleep.
>Rarity brought a cup of tea with her upstairs to a room that she believed helped foster her inspiration at crucial times.
>This was the drafting and sketching room where all of her designs were put on paper before her hoof ever even reached for a needle.
>Rarity pulled the blinds up on her circular window to let the red evening sunlight come in; its light hit the glass and it created colorful patches of light in the room and on the walls.
>She sipped her tea and relished in the calming environment she had crafted for herself.
>But she knew that she could not become to content, for the fires of creativity and inspiration still burned in her breast.
>She found a pencil and turned to a blank page in her idea notebook. She laid the items on her desk.
>Sitting at her desk and writing the first words of her story Rarity wondered if the feelings of urgency, passion, and excitement that she was feeling were felt all over by all of the authors that she admired.
>The transition from thought to expression flowed seamlessly when Rarity described Fluttershy; her goal: to paint a flattering and sympathetic portrait of the grace, humility, and devotion that lay beneath such abominable abortions at wooing.
>‘Really, Anonymous should be grateful that Fluttershy has such an interest in him.’
>But just thinking about Anonymous made Rarity glare at her paper in frustration: he was the problem.
>Sure, Rarity could pen all sorts of nice things about her friend, but Anonymous was a different story.
>It wasn’t that she hated Anonymous, or even disliked him, but she just thought that he had so many negative qualities that she did not understand why Fluttershy was so fixated on him.
>And she could not help but notice them all now that she had to write about him opposite Fluttershy.
>When Rarity wrote that Anonymous was tall, she also couldn’t help but mention that he slouched and had the posture of an elderly mare.
>When she wrote that he had a nice smile, she could not help but notice that his teeth were not straight.
>Fluttershy always wrote that he was muscular, but to Rarity it was clear that Anonymous was not very fit; sure, his muscles were more clearly defined than the average stallions, but would it kill him to do a couple sit ups every morning?
>It pained Rarity to say this: but she did not even think that the marvelous wardrobe that she had provided for him could help improve Anonymous’ looks.
>And chivalry was not a word that he knew; of this, Rarity was sure. The way he treated Fluttershy–no matter how unladylike she could be–was certainly not endearing; to put it bluntly, he has a short fuse.
>His attitude in general is like that of a colt; he always seems to be joking around and aloof, and his idea of fun is going around pranking random ponies in town with Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie.
>‘How am I ever going to make such a childish, unattractive, and ill-mannered male the star of a romance?’
>Rarity shook her head and dropped her pencil.
>‘Seeing as how this is the first romance I shall pen–and because I’m having so much trouble with one of its leads–I think it might be best if I prepare myself a bit for my quest for authenticity.’
>She got up and went to her bedroom; and the sense of giddy that occurred when she looked at her bookshelf assured her decision for study as right.
>Countless tales of passion, lust, and romance had been digested by Rarity ever since she had started getting the attention of boys–which happened very early.
>But, while she had found many colts who had tricked her into thinking that they were her Prince Charming in her youth, she had yet to find a stallion who could sweep her off her hooves; they mostly just ripped and tore her lovely lingerie with their teeth.
>She grabbed one of her favorites, “A Taste of Heaven”, and read of one of her dream stallions: Arid Amble.
>Arid was a ruthless, wandering gunslinger; and at first he appeared brutish, distant, and cold to Desert Rose. But Desert learned of his troubled past; she saw why he could not connect with anypony, and she healed his heart with the love that he so desperately needed.
>And Arid, as well, sees past Desert’s rough looks and naïve outlook and finds the proper lady that was hidden in the repressed farm gal that was waiting at her failing family farm for her dead father’s return from caravanning.
>His steely resolve clashes with her friendly, peace-seeking ways; and after a long adventure of spurs and sex they end up falling in love and marrying.
>Arid becomes the gentlestallion that Desert always knew that he was; and Desert becomes a much needed ally, conscience, and homemaker to the wanderer.
>It is the classic Mane Austen principle of partnership: they keep each other in check, and together they make a good pair.
>Rarity had caught herself reading some of her favorite passages for well over twenty minutes.
>She closed the book and sighed. She had to somehow imbue Anonymous with romantic interest that she could not see at all.
>Oh, if only the world lived by her romance novels! Then Fluttershy would see that love and commitment is always superior to finding ones fetish and screwing like rabbits: romance over pornography.
>But, no, it would be Rarity’s job to show her such a thing. She had higher standards for her friend, and decided that Fluttershy was a wonderful mare that deserved better than Anonymous.
>She was more determined now than ever to show Fluttershy the error of her ways. She went back to her desk and wrote of Anonymous with her favorite romance heroes in mind.
>Rarity needed to craft in Anonymous the kind of stallions that Fluttershy should be looking for; she needed to create the most enticing piece of romantic literature ever written and she had an hour to do it.
>With a meticulous eye for detail, strict attention to the words she wrote, and a noble cause heating her inspirations whenever the fire was dulled by fatigue, Rarity had done it; she read her story over and over again with pride, and just a bit of heavy breathing.
>“This really is marvelous romance fiction. I might even be able to convert Rainbow Dash with a story like this.”
>Rarity really did feel she was a natural-born artist when she weighed her accomplishment; completing such a fine story on a time limit–she would like to think–was something that even the experts would have trouble with.
>“Well, I know what I shall do if my designs ever become yesterday’s news–perish the thought.”
>The life of a literary figure; well, Rarity could imagine sitting by the fire in a log cabin and pleasantly putting pen to paper throughout the day and night.
>She could imagine a book adorning her name in the romance section of any book store; perhaps her stories would be awaited releases that would be on display at the front of the store.
>And at a book signing when she was asked about how she became so successful and talented she would say:
>“Love what you do. Be passionate about every story. Read every day. Know your craft well. And reach out to every reader in a way that only you can.”
>Rarity sighed and shook her head as she organized the papers of her story.
>A little fantasy now and then never hurt anypony. She couldn’t help but smile; Rarity: a truly artistic mare of literature and passion.
>But she tucked her dreams of adoration aside and focused on what she considered most important.
>She hoped that if her story would reach anypony at all it would be Fluttershy.
>Even if she could not get Fluttershy to demand better treatment from Anonymous, she would at least be pleased if she could get Fluttershy to write more about staring into the eyes of Anonymous as opposed to clutching his back and moaning.
>As Rarity was leaving to meet Twilight she stopped at the door; she shook her head and laughed to herself.
>“Oh, how could I be so forgetful?”
>She took her pencil one more time and signed her name to her story.
>Commitment, my dear, commitment.

>Applejack didn’t see any harm in trying.
>Unfortunately, she couldn’t get anything going.
>Up in her room she sat staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of her with frustration; it had been blank for a good long time now.
>This is exactly what she thought would happen: She knew she wasn’t a writer and this seemed to prove it.
>She had no idea what to write, where to start, and what to do; even the idea of putting her pencil to paper seemed like a task that was foreign to her.
>Applejack took a bite of her apple and sighed when she finished chewing.
>There really wasn’t any reason to agonize over this story, because the pies were already baked and she could just bring those.
>But for some reason she had it in her head that this was something she needed to try to do.
>She couldn’t help but feel a bit excluded whenever she imagined showing up at Fluttershy’s without a story when all of her friends would have one.
>It left a bad taste in her mouth. The Apples valued family over everything else, and Fluttershy was as good as family to her: That’s because family only meant togetherness.
>But there wasn’t anything doing about togetherness with her not having a story. It just didn’t feel right.
>At least this way she could say that she tried to write something down for Fluttershy.
>It wasn’t as if Fluttershy would be mad at Applejack for trying and failing.
>Being reminded of the whole business with Fluttershy–and the lack of togetherness among her friends that it left–only strengthened the bad taste in Applejack’s mouth, and she took another bite of her apple.
>“Sis, are you alright?” asked Apple Bloom from the hall. “You’ve just been staring out the window for, like, an hour.”
>Applejack turned around in her chair.
>“Apple Bloom, you’re supposed to be watching those pies down in the kitchen while they cool.”
>“Don’t worry about that.” She waved her hoof. “I saw Big Mac playin’ with that doll he thinks we don’t know about. He’ll be busy for a while.”
>“That’s what he wants you to think. You can’t trust him when he gets like this, and he always gets like this around apple pie.”
>“Would you relax, Applejack? I put bells on the pies, so there. Does that calm you down any?”
>“Only a little bit, I still want you down there.”
>“Alright, but first tell me what you’re doin’. You never stay up in your room this long.”
>“I’m writin’–” she caught a glimpse of the blank paper “–well, I’m tryin’ to write a story for Fluttershy.”
>“Hey, I wrote a story in school and got an A on it. I bet I could help you.”
>“I doubt it, little sis. Twilight wants us to write romances. You know”–Applejack stuck out her tongue playfully–“girly stuff you wouldn’t be interested in.”
>Applejack was surprised to see that Apple Bloom did not mimic her actions like she thought that her little sister would. Instead, Apple Bloom looked annoyed.
>“Come on, Applejack, I ain’t a little kid anymore. I know plenty about romance.”
>“Is that what you think?”
>“What’s that supposed to mean?”
>“Nothin’, it’s just, I wouldn’t exactly trust you to set somepony up on a date considerin’ how well you did with your brother and Cheerilee last Hearts and Hooves day.”
>Apple Bloom lowered her ears and kicked at the floor.
>“Sheesh. You do something once around here and no pony ever forgets about it.”
>“Aw, come on, little sis. I was just teasin’ you. Why don’t you tell me what you know about romance if you’re so confident?”
>She brightened up instantly.
>“Finally, you ask me. I know loads about romance, Applejack. Get ready to write this down.”
>Applejack grabbed her sheet of paper and sat attentive to her little sister; if it wasn’t for her pencil in her mouth she’d be smirking.
>“So, have you ever heard the story about great-great-cousin Apple Root–” Applejack spit her pencil out.
>“I’ve heard that one, little sis.”
>“Are you sure? I didn’t even get to the parts with the ghosts that captured great-great cousin Apple Sapling yet.”
>Apple Bloom giggled. “Hey, why did Apple Root marry his cousin, anyway? Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”
>“Don’t you got any personal experiences you can tell me about, little sis?”
>Apple Bloom smiled. “Do I ever. Get ready to write this one down.”
>Applejack took her pencil in her mouth again. She was hopeful: maybe her kid sister’s perspective on love would give her some fresh ideas.
>“Okay, one time Rumble had a crush on Scootaloo: so he threw his cupcake at her during lunch time, and Scootaloo got so mad that she poured her milk on him, and all his friends thought that was so funny they laughed until milk came out of their noses.”
>Apple Bloom fell to the floor and held her sides in laughter.
>“It was so gross. Their table was like a regular milk and snot lagoon!”
>Applejack’s pencil slipped out of her agape mouth.
>“Hey, Applejack, how come you aren’t writing this down?”
>The faint sound of bells being rung was coming from the kitchen.
>Apple Bloom gasped and ran down the hall.
> “Hey, Smarty Pants–I mean, Big Mac, you step away from those pies!”
>The sounds of a struggle could be heard.
>Various pots and pans clattered and spun on the floor
>Grunts screams and groans came from the two struggling siblings
>There was even the sound of glass shattering occasionally, which was always followed by a brief lull in the chaos that eventually lead to arguing.
>“Look at what you did!”
>“Shut up!”
>“Oh, Applejack is going to be so mad at you!”
>“You started it!”
>Applejack banged her head against the table.

>The door to Pinkie Pie’s bedroom was kicked in by the owner herself; and she scanned the room looking for the enemy.
>But all Pinkie found was Gummy swimming in a bowl of half-eaten cereal left over from breakfast.
>“I don’t have time to talk right now, Gummy.”
>The alligator descended into the lukewarm milk.
>“Don’t you tempt me.”
>His reptilian eyes ascended and peered out from the milk.
>“I’m being serious right now. I don’t have time to play with my food. I need to go to my thinking place.”
>Pinkie threw herself on her bed and squealed in delight when she bounced a bit; the old maxim proved true: you can never stop at just one bounce. So, she kept bouncing and laughing.
>“You have to understand that I’m doing this for a friend, Gummy.”
>Gummy just blinked each eye separately and then followed the secret dictation of his heart to another room.
>Pinkie really couldn’t help but jump on the bed. It’s the closest she’s ever come to flying–in the comfort of her own room.
>Then she remembered that dream she had where she was a pegasus and she flew through those marshmallow clouds.
>And then she remembered that two of her best friends were pegasus ponies and they had told her that clouds were made of boring old water and not marshmallow.
>Pinkie stopped giggling and paused in midair.
>“There’s no time for bouncing, or flying. Not when Fluttershy needs me.”
>She got down and went rummaging through her arts and crafts trunk.
>“Let’s see what I need, colored pencils? Yep. Notebook full of pink and yellow paper? You betcha, because I can always just use my markers to color some of the pages green for Nonny. Construction paper? Certainly. Poster board? Well, of course. Chocolate chips? Definitely. Leaves? You bet your sea legs.”
>Pinkie closed her trunk and rolled across the floor until she found a suitable writing spot.
>“Gosh, there are so many ideas I have for stories I don’t know how I’m going to get them all down.”
>She squinted at her paper as if she was staring down a challenger.
>“I’ve got an idea.”
>Taking her pink colored pencil in her mouth Pinkie pointed the tip at her paper and shouted:
>“Zap! Storyus Writeicus.”
>But, of course, nothing happened. The pencil slipped out of her mouth.
>“Well, looks like I still don’t have what it takes to be a wizard.”
>Pinkie shook her head.
>“Focus, Pinkie Pie, you have to write this story for Fluttershy so that she’ll smile again.”
>In order to have complete concentration Pinkie decided that she needed to isolate herself from all distractions.
>She built a pillow fort and made a sign that said: ‘Free Pie!’
>Eventually, she realized her error and turned her page over to the other side which said: ‘No Disturbation. Please fill out an appointment with Gummy for a later engagement.’
>In her feathery fort Pinkie Pie felt she was in her own world; in a way she was because she had put the pillows together.
>She looked at the paper again in the dark of her fort.
>“Now you’ll be written and there’s nothing that no pony can do about it.”
>Except she did not realize that she was talking to her box of markers.
>That’s when Pinkie realized that she was going to need some light so that she could see what she was doing in her fort.
>She took her fort down because she forgot to construct a door.
>When it came time to rebuild she found a way to cut the middle mare.
>“I’ll just take everything that isn’t any of my arts and crafts”–Pinkie said as she gathered up said everything in her arms–“and put it in my ‘everything trunk’ for now.”
>And that’s exactly what she did.
>So now the room was bare like a fresh canvas–and like her paper where her story was supposed to be.
>“Oh, I haven’t forgotten about you,” she said as she squinted at her paper.
>She crawled low across the floor to the paper like a leopard would in the high savanna fields when stalking an antelope.
>“Look around you, story. There’s nothing to distract me from writing you now.”
>Pinkie sprang up from the floor and took a quill in her hoof; she was ready to bring the tip down like a knife into an unfortunate victim when she said:
>“And written you shall be, knave!”
>Pinkie giggled and started writing her story.
>“It’s so fun to be creative. I bet my friends are having a blast doing the same.”
>Her creative process then became a frenzied race to cram as many of her ideas into one story as possible.
>Pinkie filled out page after page of material.
>Her story was–“Hey! You’re distracting me. And don’t you be a Narratory Nark.”
>Um, excuse me?
>“I want the story to be a surprise.” She winked. “You know, for the readers.”
>If you had just let me finish telling the scene you would’ve seen that–“No. I don’t care how funny and rhymey your homonyms are; I want this scene to end.”
>Pinkie, I really–“Please?  For me?”
>Pinkie was giving me her best puppy-dog eyes and pouty lip combo.
>I’m very weak when it comes to that combo.
>I’m sorry, but she won.
>“Yay! You won’t regret it. I promise.”
>Do you Pinkie Promise?
>“Oh, you’re good. Okay, I’ll Pinkie Promise: cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
>And she did the appropriate gestures to go along with the promise as she said the words.
>“Did you do it, too?”
>That’s not how your promise works, Pinkie. You’re the only one who has to do it.
>“Well, I just thought that maybe you’d want to do it for fun is all.”
>And so, Pinkie finished her story; and–“Hey! You’re supposed to move on.”
>Fine.
>“Oh, and don’t be mad if I keep my promise in a way that you aren’t expecting.”
>What?!
>“My story is so going to surprise you. I’ll see you later.”
>Stop that! Only I can end a scene. You can’t. . .
>She went to go meet up with Twilight.
>Pinkie seems to have different ideas as to who is running this show, and I’m sure she’s going to try and pull a fast one on us with her story.
>But don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan.
>Well, let’s go see Applejack. Hopefully she’ll know her role a bit better.

>The Apple family campsite was located deep in the western orchards of Sweet Apple Acres.
>Long ago they had dug up the grass in a clearing of the trees so that there was a big patch of earth to rest on.
>In a round divot in the ground–surrounded by rocks–there were grey ashes from the last campfire that they had.
>The tallest seat near the campfire was the smooth and round stump of what must’ve been a great apple tree a very long time ago.
>That seat was slightly taller than the others–which were made of logs that had been cut in half, laid down on the flat side, and then had divots carved into the skyward sides to sit in.
>And because the stump was slightly taller than all the other logs it was often used as a speaking platform of sorts.
>All the Apple family needed to do was bring a barbeque, a cooler, some tents, and maybe an instrument to sing some songs and they never had to leave their home if they wanted to go camping.
>When they weren’t using it as their camping grounds, though, the space was vacant.
>Applejack sat down on one of the logs. She took her hat off and chewed on a wheat stalk that she had found on the way.
>The sun was setting, and the sky was turning grey, except in the east where the last golden strands of light shone off of the tops of the apple trees so that they blinded you when you looked at them.
>In half an hour Twilight would be expecting her.
>“I always come here when I need to do some thinkin’, and you’re one of the best listeners I know, so I like to talk to you whenever I’m tryin’ to figure something out.
>“When Twilight first talked about writin’ I didn’t want to do it because I didn’t think I’d be any good at it. It ain’t like I haven’t written before–I’ve written letters to the princess, and I’ve written in the journal before–but those times were different, because I knew what I was going to write about before I did them.
>“It ain’t just that though, I had a good feeling about writin’ those when I did them; it’s sort of an upliftin’ feelin’, you get it. I didn’t get that when Twilight suggested writin’ for Fluttershy. I actually felt kind of bad when she suggested it. That’s how I knew I was against it.
>“See, I thought that maybe I didn’t want to do it because I was sure that I didn’t think I’d be any good at it, because I wasn’t a writer. That’s still kind of true, but I think there’s another reason, too: The real reason that I just figured out.
>“Fluttershy’s stories–well, I ain’t really a fan of them–but the way she writes herself in them, there’s real honesty in there: I can tell that she’s really writing about who she really is. She’s honest about who she is and how she feels.
>“I think I realized somethin’ about this whole situation: I don’t like how Fluttershy and Anonymous treat each other. It ain’t romantic in the slightest; it’s downright sad if you think about it, at least, that’s how I feel.
>“So that’s what my problem might be: I can’t write a romance story about Fluttershy and Anonymous to cheer them up because it would be dishonest of me to do so.”
>Applejack sighed and kicked the dirt.
>“I don’t know. What do you make of it?”
>Winona dropped Applejack’s hat at her hooves and stood there panting and wagging her tail. Applejack eyed her hat curiously.
>“My hat, girl?”
>The dog stopped panting, cocked its head, and then started again.
>Applejack picked up her hat, wiped the slobber off of the brim where it had been chewed, and examined her brown Stetson.
>It had its fair share of stiches and patches, it smelled woodsy, and there were dirty spots that would never come out.
>“You know, pa gave me this hat and told me that the Apple family’s lineage was in it. What do you think he meant by that?”
>Winona had run away sometime while Applejack was staring at her hat. The dog was sprinting circles around the campsite just outside the apple trees.
>“Silly girl,” said Applejack with a smile.
>Applejack sighed and grabbed a stick to play with the grey ashes of the last campfire; the sun had baked the top to a crust, but underneath the ashes were a pure powder.
>She flicked the ash up and it drifted on the air like a cloud of smoke before getting thinner and thinner until it disappeared; it went from a smoke to a mist to ash again–and without anyone noticing the dust settled before our eyes in the golden atmosphere of the peeking sun.
>“I wonder what I’m going to do.”
>She put her hat on and began her walk back to the farmhouse. Winona was either at her side or scouting the trail ahead of her.
>The sun was still blinding in her direction, and Applejack was walking with her gaze dipped slightly down to the ground.
>She couldn’t write an honest story–with the way she felt–and not hurt Fluttershy’s feelings.
>And dishonesty would do her no good, she figured; and she could not write a dishonest story anyway.
>Twilight’s intention with this story idea was just to show Fluttershy that they were still there for her, and Applejack figured that there was no reason that her pies could not do that.
>It was a half-truth in that way; at least it was the best parts of the truth. She wanted to be there for her friend, even if she didn’t particularly agree with what she did on a regular basis.
>Thinking like this, Applejack felt more assured in her decision not to write a story like her friends had done, and she was glad that she had stood her ground before them.
>She ran with Winona to back to the farmhouse.
>She couldn’t wait to show up with those fresh pies now, and the sooner she got there and gave them to Fluttershy then the sooner she could have a piece for herself.
>The back door hinge squeaked and Applejack found Big Mac and Apple Bloom in the kitchen with two empty pie tins at their hooves.
>Applejack was silent in her anger; Big Mac and Apple Bloom were silent in their worried guilt; Winona broke the silence when she started licking the crumbs off of the pie tins.
>“It’s not what it looks like,” said Apple Bloom.
>“They were like this when I found them,” said Big Mac.
>“Don’t you pin this on me. This was your idea in the first place.”
>“I wasn’t tryin’ to pin it on you, but it’s good to know that you’re a traitor to both me and your sister.”
>“What did you call me, you doll lover?!”
>“I want to know who told you about her!”
>“Be quiet!” yelled Applejack. The two siblings stopped immediately.
>“Since you all like pie so much” – Applejack threw aprons at her two siblings – “I’m sure you won’t mind making two new pies to replace the two that you both ate.”
>Applejack found a chair and eased back in it.
>“I’ll supervise. You both got thirty minutes to get those pies ready.”
>“Well, um,” said Big Mac, “Granny wanted me to get the campfire goin’ for the weenie roast.”
>“Yeah, and I have a Crusader meeting I got to go to soon.”
>“Let me put it this way,” said Applejack. “If you two don’t bake those pies right now I’ll tie you to the oven. See if Fluttershy likes baked Apples instead.”
>The two siblings were sweating just at the thought of it.
>“But we can make time for our favorite sister,” said Big Mac.
>“Yeah, if you had just let us finish what we were sayin’ you would’ve heard that part.”
>“Uh huh, get bakin’ already,” said Applejack.
>The two of them sighed and complied.
>Applejack looked out the window at the evening sky; some strands of her golden hair shone in her eyes and she pushed them away.
She wondered how her friends were doing; and she also wondered if her friends, and maybe even Fluttershy, were looking at the same evening sky and thinking the same thoughts that she was thinking.