GREEN
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1572 8.46 KB 143
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>The market place is bustling with activity as you walk through it
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>Looking over the list again, you see that there is only a few items left to get.
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“Milk, eggs, and a loaf of bread.”
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>You are Anon, and you’ve only been in this place for a few weeks.
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>No one is really sure how, but you were dropped here likely because of magic fuckery.
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>And no one knows how to get you back.
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>So you’ve been getting used to this place and its inhabitants.
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>Long story short, you’re in Equestria and this town is called Ponyville.
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>Their leader, Princess Celestia, was kind of enough to give you a place to stay.
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>Though truthfully, you hate how you’re basically on welfare.
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>In any case, you’ve been trying to make some friends here.
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>Unfortunately, that hasn’t worked out too well.
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>Even the princess’s student who has been helping you out, is one of the few you can call a friend around here.
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>Though you’re certain it’s more likely because you’re from another world.
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>As for her friends, with the exception of Pinkie Pie, the others don’t mind you.
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>But are not really your friends either.
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>Sure they talk to you, but more or less are just acquaintances.
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>As you’re dwelling on these thoughts, you accidentally run into a pony.
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“Shit!”
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>You stumble and look back towards the pony you knocked over.
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>It’s a gray earth pony mare with long white bangs, a bit of sky blue wrapping around one ear, and the rest of her mane is purple.
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>She looks at you with wide golden eyes and is shaking in fear.
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>You attempt to calm her down and apologize.
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“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t watching were I going. Let me help you up.”
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>Just as you reach out to her, she gets up quickly and gallops away.
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“Great, that went well.”
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>Looking around, you see some ponies staring as if you did something wrong.
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>No point in standing around, not like you can fix this.
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>Just as you start to move again to finish your list, you step on something.
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>Pausing to look down, you see a book on the ground.
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>The mare must’ve dropped it when you ran into her.
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>You pick it up and take a quick look inside to see if there is an address.
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>There is nothing inside, and you realize the book is full of blank pages.
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>Probably a sketch book, wouldn’t hurt to return it though.
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>Who knows, maybe you can make a friend from this.
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>You go back to shopping and pick up the last items on your list.
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>After dropping off your groceries, you head out to see if Twilight can help you identify the mystery mare.
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>You reach Golden Oaks and knock on the door.
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>Spike, her baby dragon assistant, answers the door.
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>”Oh, hi Anon, what’s up?”
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>You smile at the little guy.
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“Hey there Spike, is Twilight around?”
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>He beams and nods.
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>”Yep, come on in.”
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>You walk in after him and immediately see Twilight sitting nearby with a stacks of books surrounding her.
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“Hey Twilight, got a moment?”
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>She places a bookmark on the page she is on and looks up to you.
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>”Hey there, of course I do. What do you need?”
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>You give her a quick rundown on what happened earlier and a description of the mare.
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>She raises a hoof to her chin and starts to think.
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>”I’m surprised you didn’t ask Pinkie first, but she does sound a little familiar.”
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>You shudder.
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“Yeah, but Pinkie would’ve talked my ear off, so I came to you first.”
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>She giggles and continues.
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>”That’s Pinkie, but the pony in question sounds like that one sketch artist I’ve heard of.”
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“Alright, just give me an address so I can return this and apologize.”
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>Twilight smiles, but shakes her head.
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>”I’m afraid I don’t know where she lives, so you will have to ask Pinkie.”
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>A part of you was afraid she would say that.
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>You sigh and slump a little.
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“Alright, fair enough.”
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>”Oh come on Anon, she’s not that bad.”
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>You give her a deadpan stare.
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>Normally you would argue, but screw it, you’d rather save your breath.
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>Just as you’re about to leave, Twilight calls out to you.
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>”By the way, I’m certain her name is Happy Accident.”
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>Considering how weird these ponies names are, you don’t question it anymore.
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>You wave your hand in acknowledgment and head out.
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>Doesn’t take you long to reach Sugarcube Corner, and you take a breath before heading in.
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>Finally catching your breath, you set down your bags and start locking the door.
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>After the last lock is in place, you feel relieved.
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>That creature nearly scared you to death at the market.
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>It looked like a deformed minotaur with no fur.
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>Getting up, you open up your bags and go through your purchases.
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“...More pencils, erasers, some more drawing paper...Where is the sketchbook..?”
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>A small bit of panic hits you.
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>You must’ve dropped it in your escape from that creature.
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>It hurts to lose it, but you accept it.
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“...Co-couldn’t risk that thing yelling at me...”
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>Wiping away an errant tear, you pick up your things and head over to your easel.
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>You focus on a bowl of fruit you set on the table in the center of the room.
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>After staring for a few seconds, you start to sketch.
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>Your eyes shoot back and forth from the bowl to the paper before you.
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>Quickly moving the pencil and stopping occasionally to erase your mistakes.
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>Minutes pass, and you finish.
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>Setting down your pencil, you pick up the sketch and place it next the bowl of fruit.
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>Looking back and forth between the two, you pick out the differences.
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“...Needs work, my shading is off...Still terrible...”
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>You mark it and set it on the ever growing pile of scrap.
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>Setting up for the next sketch, you hear a knocking at the door.
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“...Who could that be..?”
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>Your anxiety flares up as you approach the door.
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>Slowly, you start to unlock it.
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>Most ponies have told you that you have too many locks.
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>Most ponies don’t have the fears you do.
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>Finally you finish the last lock, and very slowly, open the door.
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>As you peak your head out, your eyes hurt for a moment from the light.
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>As they finally adjust, the sight before you makes you freeze.
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>”Hi, I came to apologize and to bring the book back you dropped.”
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>It’s the creature from earlier.
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>Your heart starts to race, and you want to run, but you can’t move.
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>You stand there frozen for a while, before the creature starts to talk again.
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>”So, here you go. I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going earlier.”
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>It holds out the book you bought earlier.
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>Finally you snapped out of it, and take the book back.
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>Words return to you, but all you can manage is a mumbled thank you.
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>It gives you a unfamiliar look, and rubs its claws? Hands? You’re not sure what, before backing up slowly.
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>”I’m gonna just go. Uh, take care and...Well, bye.”
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>It leaves your porch and walks away.
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>You close the door, lock it back up, and hold the book close to you.
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>Heart is still racing, and your fear is still there.
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“...Th-that was close...At least I got my book back...”
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>You look it over, it’s undamaged thankfully.
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>Slowly you calm down, and walk back over to start sketching again.
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>Though as you try to sketch, you find yourself distracted.
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>While that thing scared you nearly to death, its form fascinated you.
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>You feel driven to try to sketch it out.
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>Placing another sheet on the canvas, you try to draw it from memory.
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>Try as you might, you’re unable to get it correctly.
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>A bit of frustration brews from within and you squeeze your eyes shut to focus.
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“...Come on, come on...I-I can do this...I’ve done this before...”
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>You try again, but the form is wrong, of this you are certain.
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>You stomp your hoof in frustration, and set down your pencil.
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“...I’ll just make some coffee...An-and try again...”
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>Heading to the kitchen, you make a fresh pot and think more about the shape.
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>The pot finishes brewing, and you grab a cup to bring back to the living room.
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>Going back, you try once more at sketching.
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>More frustration brews as you fail once again.
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“...I-I don’t get it...May-maybe I was too afraid to focus on the details...”
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>You feel a little sad, but an idea comes forth.
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“...I could ask around about the creature...Wait, that means I’d have to talk to another po-pony...”
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>Before you give up entirely, you decide to go ask the one pony who would know.
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>Pinkie Pie.
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>You wouldn’t resort to this, but you must sketch that creature.
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>Thankfully, you don’t have to ask her face to face, you can just write a letter.
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“...Sh-she will understand...”
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>You pull out a sheet of paper and an envelope to get started.
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“...Dear Pinkie Pie, I’m writing to you...”
by NHanon
by NHanon
by NHanon
by NHanon
by NHanon