The yellow book


                                            It’s a lazy Friday afternoon in the post office.

                                            Not much mail gets sent anymore, with the potential evacuation looming in everyone's mind.

                                            The door of your office - really, it's just a table in the tiny mail storage room - is open as usual.

                                            While your mare-friend is passing the time till her evening route doing some sweeping in the desolated customer area, you still have some mail left to sort.

                                            There wasn't a lot of mail to sort today. With a bit of effort you could have been long done and home by now.

                                            Home alone is not something you want to be today though, as it would mean getting back on the extremely frustrating teleportation spell grind.

                                            Giving up is absolutely not an option, however not training because of lack of time can hardly be called giving up.

                                            Tomorrow you'll train twice as hard to make up for it!


                                            The letter you have just identified inserts itself in the correct position in the mail bag.

                                            You take a package, the last remaining mail to sort out of the in-tray, then flip it to read the address written on its backside.

                                            A sadistic grin comes over your face.

                                            It's supposed to go to a certain lying book-mare you know all too well.

                                            This is your chance to dish out some karma.


                                            With a quick glance towards the door, you take a black marker from a cup on the table and smear all over the address.

                                            Satisfied with your work, you get up from your chair to personally bring the package to its new home, the reject bin.

                                            In your mind you play out the scene of a pissed-off Twilight coming into the post office, shouting angrily, demanding to get her package.

                                            Meanwhile, you are standing behind the counter wearing your best professional smile, telling her that accidents happen, promising to start a search for her lost package, but also telling her that the chances aren't good.

                                            You chuckle to yourself as the package falls into the reject bin, but then the scene in your mind changes.


                                            It won't be you who will have to deal with an angry Twilight. You aren't handling customers; that's Derpy's job.

                                            Maybe Twilight brought some books as ammunition to really express her anger toward your poor mare-friend.

                                            Of course, Derpy will blame herself for the mistake. You can't tell her that you did it on purpose, as messing with post is not something Derpy would forgive.

                                            She takes her job very seriously, maybe even to a fault.

                                            It's all she has to make herself feel like a useful member of society, despite her condition and every tree in town knowing her face.

                                            You slipped up, that's for sure, betrayed her trust for petty personal revenge.

                                            It's to late to go back on it now though. The line has been crossed. Nothing removes permanent marker.

                                            You stomp your right hoof on the ground in sheer frustration over your own retardation.

                                            A part of you wants to go out now, tell Derpy that you screwed up, and get a head start on finding a comfortable park bench to sleep on for the night.


                                            A much stronger part of you, the stubborn one though refuses to simply give up without a fight.

                                            Your eyes dart desperately through the room, looking for anything that could help you out.

                                            A roll of brown wrapping paper on one of the shelves catches your attention.

                                            That's it! You will just rewrap it and write a fresh readable address on the package!

                                            It will be like none of this ever happened.


                                            But doing so is very risky.

                                            If Derpy sees you while unwrapping a customer's package, even if it's just to rewrap it, well, then you can forget about sleeping on a park bench. Then you will simply have to skip town entirely.


                                            If only you could somehow assure that she will leave you alone for a bit.

                                            You walk towards the door, stick your head out into the main room and yell in your best 'everything is totally normal' voice:

                                            "Gonna close the door for a bit. Need to concentrate on this handwriting, okay?"

                                            "Concentrate on handwriting?" Derpy replies from behind the counter with a broom in her hoof.

                                            She turns around, her eyebrows raised.

                                            "Say, you haven't developed an eye condition, have you?"

                                            She lowers her voice and grins.

                                            "Am I rubbing off on you?"

                                            It may just be a joke, but it's also a sign of deep trust that she feels secure enough around you to make a joke about her condition.

                                            You HAVE to make this right!

                                            "Ah no, it's just uh very weirdly written. I... I'm gonna need to do some guesswork on that. he he"

                                            Oh god, you are terrible at acting.

                                            Derpy tips herself with her hoof against her forehead. "Okay weirdo."

                                            You try to fake a smile.

                                            "Thanks."

                                            Then quickly close the door, letting out a big sigh of relief but also letting your head hang in shame.

                                            She bought your lies.


                                            Grabbing Twilight's package from the bin and the wrapping roll from the shelf, you walk back to your desk.

                                            Hastily, you free the package from its ruined wrapping, revealing a book.

                                            No big surprise there. What else would a pony like Twilight order...


                                            You sweep the torn scraps of the old wrapping under the desk, putting them out of sight just in case.

                                            Reaching for the new wrapping paper, you freeze as the incredible weirdness of the book you just unwrapped becomes apparent to you.

                                            It's bound in fur, but not just any fur; judging by the look and feel of it, it appears to be... pony fur?!

                                            "Ewww," disgusted you let go of the book, which drops onto the table with a loud thud.

                                            A thud that sounded like a thunderclap to you.

                                            Immediately, you freeze up, holding your breath as you listen with high alert for any sort of noise coming from outside your office.

                                            Everything remains quiet though.

                                            As you slowly start breathing again, your attention wanders back to the book.

                                            What is that book? A cannibals' guide to preparing ponies?

                                            Without touching it, you inspect the book more closely. It has no title, neither on the front nor on the spine.

                                            The backside you can't see.

                                            Tearing a piece from the paper roll to wrap it around your hoof, you carefully flip the book over.

                                            There is no title on the backside either, but... oh no.

                                            Your eyes widen in horror.

                                            "Dear Celestia!"

                                            The fur on the backside has a mark made up of differently colored fur on it depicting a yellow butterfly.

                                            A cutie mark! This book has a cutie mark!

                                            All doubts about the nature of this book's bindings disappear at once.

                                            Who the fuck would do something so vile?

                                            Maybe it was a good thing that you opened Twilight's package after all.

                                            Whoever did this must be found and thrown into the deepest dungeon under the celestial castle.

                                            Leaning back in the chair, you put your hoof under your chin.

                                            What should you do now?

                                            Tell the guard? Tell Derpy? Pretend you saw nothing and continue to rewrap it? Confront Twilight?


                                            Maybe this is all much more innocent than you assume. You don't even know what the book is actually about.

                                            You reach for the paper roll again, but before you can tear off more paper, you remember that you are in fact a unicorn.

                                            You gently hoof punch yourself, then use magic to open the book on a random page.

                                            Both page sides are completely empty, save for little page numbers at their corners.

                                            How disappointing.

                                            Flipping through more pages, all of them are empty too.

                                            You rub your eyes in disbelief.

                                            Anything would have been preferable to nothing.

                                            Hell, even a recipe for pony thighs would have at least explained something about the nature of this book.

                                            You rest your head on your hoof and stare at the pristine white pages.

                                            Could this be just a really fancy notebook? Is this some sort of joke you are too stupid to understand?


                                            "What are you doing?" a stern voice says.

                                            You almost jump out of your chair. Looking up, you see Derpy standing right in front of you, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

                                            Behind her, the door is open.

                                            "I uhmm...", how did you miss her walking in? Doesn't matter, think anon, think.

                                            "Okay, I admit it, I wanted the door closed to read this book."

                                            Good start, not even a complete lie.

                                            "Anon, if that is from a customer, I will-", Derpy begins, with anger flashing in her eyes.

                                            "No, no no no! That's mine!", you interrupt her, using the first lie your panicked brain can think of.

                                            "I uh, bought it to get better at that teleporting thing. It's... supposed to be a guide book, yes!"

                                            Using all your mental strength, you suppress the adrenaline-induced urge to jump up and run out of the room like a panicked chicken.

                                            Instead, you lean back in your chair, cross your hooves behind your head as calmly as possible, and force your face to put on something resembling a confident smile.

                                            Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that you wonder how it's even possible that she hasn't called your bluff yet.

                                            "I see," Derpy replies, with a raised eyebrow, but at least the anger in her eyes is gone.

                                            You thank whatever force compelled you to shove the old wrapper under the table where she can't see it, or this whole thing would have been long over by now.

                                            "Yes! Well, it turns out the book is completely empty. Look!", you say, excited to move away from the whole ownership question to a safer topic.

                                            You let the open book float in front of Derpy's face and are glad that your body, twitching ever so subtly from all the adrenaline coursing through your veins, is now hidden from her gaze.

                                            "S-See? I think I've been scammed!"

                                            Inwardly, you cringe at all the blatant lies you tell the one pony you really shouldn't lie to.


                                            "Huh, that's weird." Derpy says, slowly, from behind the book.

                                            "Why did you buy it then? And..." with her left primary she strokes over the book cover. "Is that fur? Fake fur hopefully, right?"

                                            Of course! Fake fur, why didn't you think of that possibility?

                                            "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

                                            Your strained facial expression and posture relax a little bit, as the topic moves further away from the ownership question.

                                            You don't need to lie about how weird this book is.

                                            "What do you mean? Shouldn't you know? It's totally creeping me out. Refund it Anon! I won't allow you to bring that thing into my home!"

                                            She takes a step back from the book, which you take as a sign to stop hovering it in front of her.

                                            "Yeah, I'll probably do that..."

                                            Your voice trails off as your gaze returns to the book.

                                            "Good." She nods, a smile returning to her face.

                                            "Anyway, sorry for bothering! I'll be going on my evening route now. Do you have the mail ready?"

                                            "Of course!"

                                            You got through with it and get to continue being her employee and stallion-friend, even if you probably don't deserve to be either anymore.

                                            You'd like to pump your hoof in the air with joy, but that could lead to more uneasy questions.


                                            Quickly, you turn around, close the zipper on the mail bag lying behind you, and levitate it over to her.

                                            "Here you go!"

                                            She straps the bag over her back.

                                            "Thanks, you are the best!"

                                            So, so much shame overcomes you upon hearing those words.

                                            You lower your head.

                                            "I don't deserve you."

                                            "Awww. What has gotten into you all of a sudden?"

                                            Derpy leans over the table, pulls your head up with her hoof, and gives you a kiss, surprisingly managing to touch your lips with her lips on the first try.

                                            All your 'practice' together seems to be paying off.

                                            With her face very close to yours and one of her eyes looking directly into yours, she says in a low voice:

                                            "Don't say that stuff. Okay? You are the best thing that has happened to me, at least since the invention of the non-lickable stamp! Don't read that empty book for too long anymore. When I get home I want to show you how much I appreciate you!"

                                            She winks at you, then pulls back, making herself ready to leave.

                                            As she almost reaches the door, she turns her head around one last time.

                                            "Almost forgot, I'll be getting us some takeout. The stuff you like, so don't worry about cooking 'nothing' again today, okay?"

                                            You nod, no longer able to articulate any more coherent response.


                                            She leaves, and for a bit afterwards, you just sit there, processing all the things that just happened.

                                            As the warm yellow light of the sunset coming through your window is replaced by pale white moonlight, you light a candle on your desk.

                                            Your gaze slowly drifts downwards again, on to the table where the book lies.

                                            All that lying for a stupid empty book addressed to a stupid lying mare, you think.

                                            You still can't believe that the book is just empty.

                                            Just to make sure you aren't crazy, you open the book for one last time, flipping through the pages until you reach page one thousand.

                                            The number one-thousand is loaded with all sorts of superstition in pony society as it denotes the number of years Luna was banished to the moon.

                                            Many children have been scared into eating their broccoli by lazy parents threatening to one-thousand them, or so Derpy told you.


                                            You don't honestly expect-but wait, the page one thousand isn't empty.

                                            It contains a short handwritten paragraph written in tiny scrawly letters, which you immediately begin to read.

                                            "When you read these words, I will already be dead.

                                            The scratching on the door of this refuge is growing louder by the minute. Soon it will give in.

                                            Forgive me, Yellow, as I leave you alone with this tremendous task I started.

                                            But I know you will make me proud. You are the brightest, bravest, and most beautiful pegasus I have ever known.

                                            If only I had realized this sooner, maybe I wouldn't have been compelled to pay such a terrible price, but I accepted my lot.

                                            Yellow, you know what needs to be done!

                                            Do not hesitate, or it may mean the end of all!

                                            I hear their masters' approach now.

                                            What are they chanting? Why are they saying-"

                                            The rest of the sentence is a complete mess of panicked pen strokes.

                                            You move your head much closer to the page, straining your eyes, trying to decipher the rest.


                                            Suddenly, a voice says: "Boooh!"

                                            Your heart skips a beat.

                                            You leap up from your chair, vault over the table, and make a dash for the door.

                                            As your hoof reaches the door handle, you catch yourself again.

                                            With perked up ears, you listen for any noises around you, but all you hear is your own heart pounding away.

                                            Who just said that?

                                            You look around the dark room.

                                            The candle on your table throws unsteady light onto the shelves, creating all sorts of weirdly shaped shadows, leaving many dark corners perfect for something to hide in.

                                            Well, if that something is no bigger than a rabbit.

                                            Seconds of intense observation of your surroundings, using all your senses pass.

                                            But you neither hear, nor see, or smell anything out of the ordinary.

                                            Maybe you misheard? It could have just been your overactive imagination strained by all the stress you went through today.

                                            Slowly and cautiously, you creep back to the table.

                                            Careful to avoid making any loud noises, as if the monster that was after the author of the text might also come after you if you betray your presence.


                                            Reaching the table, you grab the book with your bare hoof.

                                            "Oh hey, please don't dr-"

                                            You drop the book, shrieking like a little filly.

                                            You heard it again, but this time you know where it came from. It came from inside your own head!

                                            Your eyes widen in sudden realization.

                                            It's the book, it has to be.

                                            It speaks to you, sounding sort of like a young mare, which does take out a little bit of the fear factor.

                                            Unless it is a monster trying to lure you with a friendly voice?


                                            Anyway, you know what you have to do.

                                            Taking all your courage together, you swallow your fears and touch the book again.

                                            "H-Hello?"

                                            "Ouch, that hurt! Stop dropping me retard! How would you like it if I dropped you?"

                                            Your mind is blown. This book can not only speak; it also has quite the attitude.

                                            "S-sorry." is all you muster in response.


                                            "Whatever. So how did you like it?"

                                            "Like what?"

                                            "The story of course. I wrote that myself!"

                                            She seems very proud of her accomplishment. Meanwhile, you still haven't fully grasped what she is on about.

                                            "S-Story?"

                                            "Y-y-yes." The voice mocks you.

                                            "The thing you just read? I think it's quite intriguing, wouldn't you agree?"

                                            Righteous indignation overrides your fear.

                                            "That was just a story? What is wrong with you?! I could have gotten a heart attack!"


                                            "That good huh? Neat. I'm Yellow, by the way. Nice to meet you!"

                                            Your head starts to hurt, so you let go of the book and sit back down on the chair you leaped up from just moments ago.

                                            A book named Yellow, what have you just gotten yourself into.

                                            With a deep breath, you reach out for the book again.


                                            "Could you please not simply let go of me? How will I know if you ever come back?"

                                            "Explain yourself," you demand, "who are you?"

                                            "Oh me? I'm just a simple mare named Yellow, that got turned into a book by a jealous whorse.

                                            I used to be the prettiest Pegasus you had ever seen, you know?

                                            But so much time has passed since those glorious days. *Sigh*"


                                            The way she conducted herself so far makes you doubt that it was simple jealousy that got her turned into a book.

                                            "Hey! Are you calling me a liar?"

                                            Wait, can she read your thoughts?

                                            "Of course I can. How else do you think we are communicating right now?"

                                            Oh sungod, now you have to be careful with your thoughts too.

                                            "Don't worry, I'm a book. Many people reveal their darkest secrets to a book. Some of the stories the other books tell are downright disturbing."


                                            "Other books?"

                                            "Yeah, I was stored in the vast Canterlot library for hundreds of years. You wouldn't believe how annoying books can be.

                                            All they do is talk in quotes all day, acting like their contents are the most important things ever brought to paper."

                                            "Wait, other books can talk too? Why are you the first one to do so with me then?"

                                            "Heh, maybe the other books didn't like you. But jokes aside, first up, books don't talk; they quote, but only their own contents.

                                            I'd hardly call that a conversation. Not sure if they even understand what they are quoting all day long.

                                            Second up, no none book can hear them, and damnit I wish I couldn't either.

                                            Do you know how often I had to listen to some self-important encyclopedia botanica talk about grass?"

                                            The voice shudders.

                                            "To quote: The plants most often referred to include the families Poaceae, Cyperaceae, and Juncaceae. These are not closely related but belong to different clades in the order Poales. The Poaceae are by far the largest family with some 12,000 species. Besides their similar morphology, graminoids share the widespread occurrence and often dominance in open habitats such as-"

                                            "Okay, okay. I get it. Please stop. "

                                            "See? Now imagine that for hundreds of years, with a book that unlike me isn't polite enough to stop. The things I know; no normal pony should."

                                            The voice shudders again.

                                            You think back to whom this package was addressed to. Yellow would not have liked that one bit.

                                            "Why?"

                                            "Right, you can read my thoughts. Well, because the mare that was supposed to get you is a huge book nerd."

                                            "Oh sungod. I'd rather burn than spend another minute among other books."


                                            "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with you now. My whole plan was to wrap you again, so that you can be delivered and my mare-friend won't get horribly yelled at."

                                            "Please don't!" the voice pleads.

                                            I'm sure we can work something out. I have memorized almost everything there is in the Canterlot library. I can be very useful to you!"

                                            "Hmh"

                                            You scratch your chin with your hoof.

                                            "There is this one thing I could really use help with."

                                            "Sure, sure. Spit it out!"

                                            "I'm having trouble learning a simple teleport spell. I've been trying for days now, but no luck.

                                            It's really important that I learn how to do it. Bad things lie in the future. But you're a Pegasus, so you're probably not very knowledgeable about magic..."

                                            "I do though! Lots of magic books in that library. I may not have my own horn, but I bet I know much more about magic than you. "

                                            "Alright, awesome. How do I do the spell then?"

                                            "Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day."

                                            "What?"

                                            "A quote."

                                            "Oh, okay."


                                            "Before I tell you, I want assurance that I won't be shipped to that horrible place."

                                            "Sure, if your advice is helpful. I could maybe wrap another book, to fool Twilight into thinking that the fault is with the sender, not with Derpy."

                                            "Good, are you even able to learn it though? I've been told that the right cutie mark and horn are vital for magic."

                                            "Sure I can, see."

                                            In the chair, you rotate your hip to present your right empty flank.

                                            "Hold the book over it, I can't see. Ah, empty at your age, how curious. Also, you look pretty handsome."

                                            Your face flashes red in embarrassment.

                                            "Eh, don't be proud of that. I haven't seen another stallion in millennia. All I had was this one weird diary in which the author completely overshared about her sex life.

                                            The life of a book sucks."

                                            "Uhm, anyway..."

                                            This topic makes you sort of uncomfortable.

                                            "Can you teach me?"

                                            Yellow stays silent for a bit.

                                            "Yes... But I have decided to up my price. What happens after I teach you? You will probably put me in some corner and never talk to me again.

                                            I want to life! I want you to carry me around, I want to see what you see, experience what you experience, be with normal ponies again, kiss your mare-friend."

                                            Now, that's creepy. The last thing you want is to be stuck with a disembodied voice commenting on everything you do for the rest of your life, while also carrying around a heavy book everywhere.

                                            "Better get used to it, those are my terms."


                                            You shake your head. There has to be another way.

                                            "If you don't help me, I will make sure you spend the rest of your days in Twilight's library."

                                            "Can't be worse than spending the rest of my days in a lonely cupboard somewhere.", Yellow counters.

                                            The information she might have is too important for you to pass on, but there has to be an easier way to get it.


                                            You stand up with book in hoof and walk out of the sorting room into the main office.

                                            "Where are you going?" Yellow asks confused.

                                            Behind the counter, you open a drawer, then begin to search through its contents.

                                            "What are you looking for?"

                                            You don't answer. Instead you start muttering an old Pegasus song, to keep your brain from spilling the beans on your plan.

                                            Derpy taught you the song. It's some old patriotic crap that all Pegasus foals are required to learn in school, but it's also the one you best know the lyrics to.

                                            "We are the ponies of the clouds.", it goes.

                                            You still haven't found it.

                                            "A title we have been endowed"

                                            "Hey, I know that song. It's for pegasus-kind only. You have no right to-"

                                            "So join as we all stand and shout", you continue singing louder.

                                            "An ancient race we are and proud"

                                            You found what you were looking for, a small silver lighter.

                                            "Okay, last chance. Teach me and you will get to live in my cupboard.

                                            I'll even promise to check up on you every now and then. If you don't, then I have no more use for you."

                                            Activating the lighter, you start moving the flame slowly towards the book while continuing the song inside your head, much to the horror of the voice inside your head.

                                            "So fill the glasses to the brink"

                                            "You wouldn't dare. Without me, you will never learn it!"

                                            "A heavy hoof so you must think"

                                            You will not be deterred.

                                            "Seriously we can talk this out, there is no need to..."

                                            Yellow's voice begins to tremble as the flame is only inches away from the book now.

                                            "But I have found the missing link"

                                            The flame is now close enough to heat up the fur cover. A few hairs start to crinkle up under the heat.

                                            Your concentration is wavering, what was the next line of the song? Ah, right it was:

                                            "Our fate is written in the ink"

                                            "PLEASE DONT BURN ME! I TELL YOU! I WILL! I PROMISE!"

                                            Yellow is now absolutely hysterical, close to tears.

                                            You immediately extinguish the flame.

                                            Of course, you would never burn a helpless mare trapped inside a book, but the ruse worked.

                                            Fuck.

                                            "HAH! YOU LYING BASTARD! I WILL TELL YOU NOTHING!"


                                            You place the lighter on the table and sit on the cold, hard floor, the book still in your hoof.

                                            Yellow is sobbing. You can hear it in your head.

                                            Carefully, you place the book next to you on the ground, letting go of it.

                                            Yellow's voice vanishes.

                                            In the darkness of the dimly lit front room, you sit alone behind the counter, feeling really awful.

                                            What you just did was incredibly cruel.

                                            All you ever wanted was to become strong so you could protect those dearest to you.

                                            But what good is physical strength when you are mentally weak?

                                            Inside you are two sides, both calling you a failure.

                                            One sees you as a failed hero, using short cuts instead of doing the right thing.

                                            The other sees you as a weak monster, unable to get its way even though so much is at stake.

                                            And then there is a third side, just feeling sorry for Yellow, wanting to make her happy again.

                                            You lean your head against the wall behind you and close your eyes just for a bit, unsure of what to do next.

                                            You imagine what it would be like to be a book. Sitting on some shelf for years, getting quoted at by other idiotic books, not having anyone to talk to...

                                            Maybe seeing a pony walk by every now and then, wishing you could be them, or that they would at least pick you up and talk to you.

                                            You open your eyes again.

                                            With a heavy heart, you grab the book again.


                                            Yellow makes no sounds anymore.

                                            Without a clock handy, you are unsure of how much time has actually passed.

                                            "Yellow, I'm sorry."

                                            "Fuck your sorry," is the immediate response.

                                            She is rightfully furious at you.

                                            "My body was taken from me, okay? I'm sorry that I'm such an inconvenience to you that you'd rather threaten me than have me around you! You clueless bastard have no idea of what it's like to live like this!"

                                            "You, you are right. I don't. I-"

                                            It's hard to find the right words to express how sorry you feel.

                                            "I shouldn't have done that. I just have a lot on my plate, you know? I-I've seen things."

                                            An image of mayor mare's lifeless body enters your mind.

                                            "Who is that?"

                                            Yellow appears to be calming down.

                                            You begin to explain to her the events of the past few days, telling her about the incident and how it changed everything for you.

                                            Since she can read your thoughts, she knows that what you are saying is genuine.

                                            After you finish, Yellow has fully calmed down, and you both share a moment of silence.


                                            "I really wanted to help you; you know?"

                                            Now in a somber mood, yellow breaks the silence.

                                            "I know. It, it was just too much at once.

                                            Do you really expect me to carry you around for the rest of my life? Never have an undisturbed moment again?"

                                            You stare into the darkness in front of you, unsure of whether those were the right words.

                                            "I suppose that was a lot to ask for, but it would mean a lot to me.

                                            Maybe not forever. I do want my own body back if we can somehow figure that out together."

                                            "You think I could do that? I can't even teleport."

                                            "You have a blank flank, if the books are correct, you can learn anything.

                                            But I'm not going to lie, the chances are slim... For now, all I want is to take part in life again."

                                            You look down on your hoofs, but you have already made your decision.

                                            "Fine. I'll help you."

                                            Yellow asks excitedly, "Really?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            "Yay!"

                                            If Yellow had a body, she'd probably jump up and down right now.


                                            "But, we need to figure out an easier way for me to carry you around. This book is too heavy and unwieldy. Besides, if Twilight sees me with this, who knows what she might do."

                                            This curbs Yellow's excitement a bit.

                                            You scratch your ear, thinking, until the red ribbon hanging out from the bottom of the book gives you an idea.

                                            "What are you really Yellow?"

                                            "A mare trapped in a book, duh.", Yellow answers flippantly.

                                            "I mean, what part of the book are you? Could you transfer yourself into the bookmark so that I can cut it off?"

                                            "Huh..."

                                            She thinks a little bit before she answers.

                                            "I-I guess I could do that."

                                            "Cool, then let's do it!"

                                            "No, no wait!"

                                            Fear has entered her voice.

                                            "Even if it works, the ribbon doesn't look very durable to me. What happens when it dissolves? Will I die?"

                                            "I don't know. Maybe you dissolve a little bit earlier as a string than as a book, but I could really carry you around everywhere that way. The choice is yours."

                                            "Treat every moment as your last. It is not preparation for something else.", Yellow says solemnly.

                                            "Another quote?"

                                            "Do it. If that's what it takes."

                                            "Alright"


                                            You let go of the book to retrieve a pair of scissors from the cupboard.

                                            Opening the pages in which the bookmark was sandwiched between, you set the scissors as close to the start of the ribbon as possible.

                                            "Are you ready?"

                                            "Are we ever truly ready?"

                                            She answers and you assume it's another quote.

                                            "So yes?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            Taking a deep breath, you cut the ribbon without further hesitation.


                                            Everything is quiet.

                                            You pick up the piece of ribbon, and nervously inquire: "Yellow? Are you alright?"

                                            A few painful seconds of silence pass, until suddenly you hear her voice again.

                                            "Oh how the mighty have fallen. This string is so tiny."

                                            She says, in an exasperated manor, back to being her old confident self.

                                            You breath out a sigh of relief. You weren't as sure as you pretended to be about this whole process.

                                            "I already know that you are a big bluffer. Don't worry."