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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
... And Forevermore
At the beginning of everything, you come to me, radiant and smiling.
“We ought to make a world,” you say, inventing the word and its concept as you speak it. You have always been the conceiver of new ideas, and I, the challenger of them.
“Why?” I happily ask. “We already have one another; what could a world offer us?”
“A chance,” you say, eyes twinkling, “to play the longest game. A chance to play an endless variety of characters. We could live a thousand lives. We could meet for the first time a hundred thousand times. We could fall in love all over again, in every way imaginable.”
Then, you show me the great, wide possibilities of what could be. In that moment, I see every giggle and every first kiss and every broken heart and every kind of love there ever will be. For once, I cannot find or invent words to criticize one of your ideas.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
You laugh.
“So it is decided, then,” you say, sweeping a huge expanse of space into existence. It is the canvas we will paint upon.
“What does a world ought to have?” I ask. The emptiness around us is quiet and vast.
You spend a moment to think.
“It ought to have magic.”
A mote of light appears, infusing with the very being of our empty world. It spreads to every infinite corner, filling each and every bit with life. Our world is no longer quiet; it hums and sings with energy. It is good.
“Now what?” you ask.
It’s my turn to add something to our universe. I think for a long time, as you patiently wait for me.
Finally, I open my eyes and speak.
“It ought to have a sun.”
The mare arrived again at sunset, at the same time as she did for the past week. She ordered the same thing (two unglazed donuts with cinnamon powder) and even took the same seat in the far left booth.
Without another word, she produced the same thick book from her saddlebags and began to read, occasionally taking a bite of donut or a sip of coffee.
When her mug was empty, Pony Joe took a fresh pot over to her table to refill it. The mare was still completely engrossed in her book as he carefully poured steaming coffee into her cup. Joe had never seen anypony so out of it, not even that student of Celestia’s who used to study here.
When Joe puts her mug back down on the table, the heavy “thunk” it makes against the wood catches her attention. Her gorgeous, round eyes met Joe’s as she quickly nodded in thanks. Then they went straight back to the novel, darting back and forth across the page.
Must be a pretty good book, Joe thought. I ought to ask her what it’s about.
But he didn’t.
When the mare left later that evening leaving behind a handsome tip, he sighed to himself.
Maybe next time.
“I love you, Luna.”
The blue alicorn looked up from the parchment she was reading and towards her sister.
“Is there a particular reason for thy sudden affections, dear sister?”
Celestia smiled as she leaned closer to the fireplace. “Nope! I just wanted to let you know.”
“Worry not, oh bothersome sister of mine, for I am quite aware of it.” Luna rolled her eyes and returned to her work.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘I love you too,’” said Celestia. “It’s what ponies do nowadays.”
“Fine, then, if it pleases you.” Luna rolled her eyes. “I love you too, my infuriating sister.”
Celestia laughed, and even though Luna tried her hardest, she couldn’t keep her smile entirely off her lips.
Discord wanted to turn the tea table into a giant cockroach.
But Fluttershy wouldn’t like that.
He wanted to turn the trees into candycorn, and the grass into congealed tomato soup.
But Fluttershy wouldn’t like that, either.
He really, really wanted to turn Mr. Bluejay into a beached whale for juuuust a picosecond. The birdbrain wouldn’t even notice, really!
But Fluttershy would definitely hate that, even if she never found out.
So instead, Discord sipped his tea as he spun himself lazily in the air. Fluttershy continued her humdrum story of how she and her friends went to Manehattan for the weekend. It didn’t interest him at all.
But Fluttershy did.
And so, he listened. And it wasn’t that bad at all.
“We ought to make a world,” you say, inventing the word and its concept as you speak it. You have always been the conceiver of new ideas, and I, the challenger of them.
“Why?” I happily ask. “We already have one another; what could a world offer us?”
“A chance,” you say, eyes twinkling, “to play the longest game. A chance to play an endless variety of characters. We could live a thousand lives. We could meet for the first time a hundred thousand times. We could fall in love all over again, in every way imaginable.”
Then, you show me the great, wide possibilities of what could be. In that moment, I see every giggle and every first kiss and every broken heart and every kind of love there ever will be. For once, I cannot find or invent words to criticize one of your ideas.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
You laugh.
“So it is decided, then,” you say, sweeping a huge expanse of space into existence. It is the canvas we will paint upon.
“What does a world ought to have?” I ask. The emptiness around us is quiet and vast.
You spend a moment to think.
“It ought to have magic.”
A mote of light appears, infusing with the very being of our empty world. It spreads to every infinite corner, filling each and every bit with life. Our world is no longer quiet; it hums and sings with energy. It is good.
“Now what?” you ask.
It’s my turn to add something to our universe. I think for a long time, as you patiently wait for me.
Finally, I open my eyes and speak.
“It ought to have a sun.”
The mare arrived again at sunset, at the same time as she did for the past week. She ordered the same thing (two unglazed donuts with cinnamon powder) and even took the same seat in the far left booth.
Without another word, she produced the same thick book from her saddlebags and began to read, occasionally taking a bite of donut or a sip of coffee.
When her mug was empty, Pony Joe took a fresh pot over to her table to refill it. The mare was still completely engrossed in her book as he carefully poured steaming coffee into her cup. Joe had never seen anypony so out of it, not even that student of Celestia’s who used to study here.
When Joe puts her mug back down on the table, the heavy “thunk” it makes against the wood catches her attention. Her gorgeous, round eyes met Joe’s as she quickly nodded in thanks. Then they went straight back to the novel, darting back and forth across the page.
Must be a pretty good book, Joe thought. I ought to ask her what it’s about.
But he didn’t.
When the mare left later that evening leaving behind a handsome tip, he sighed to himself.
Maybe next time.
“I love you, Luna.”
The blue alicorn looked up from the parchment she was reading and towards her sister.
“Is there a particular reason for thy sudden affections, dear sister?”
Celestia smiled as she leaned closer to the fireplace. “Nope! I just wanted to let you know.”
“Worry not, oh bothersome sister of mine, for I am quite aware of it.” Luna rolled her eyes and returned to her work.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘I love you too,’” said Celestia. “It’s what ponies do nowadays.”
“Fine, then, if it pleases you.” Luna rolled her eyes. “I love you too, my infuriating sister.”
Celestia laughed, and even though Luna tried her hardest, she couldn’t keep her smile entirely off her lips.
Discord wanted to turn the tea table into a giant cockroach.
But Fluttershy wouldn’t like that.
He wanted to turn the trees into candycorn, and the grass into congealed tomato soup.
But Fluttershy wouldn’t like that, either.
He really, really wanted to turn Mr. Bluejay into a beached whale for juuuust a picosecond. The birdbrain wouldn’t even notice, really!
But Fluttershy would definitely hate that, even if she never found out.
So instead, Discord sipped his tea as he spun himself lazily in the air. Fluttershy continued her humdrum story of how she and her friends went to Manehattan for the weekend. It didn’t interest him at all.
But Fluttershy did.
And so, he listened. And it wasn’t that bad at all.