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Inkspill trotted down the roads of Canterlot, where she was visiting her cousin Sweetswirl (a unicorn who owned a candy shop) and her husband Birdsong (a pegasus who directed a bird choir) with a suitcase balanced on her back. Inkspill normally lived in Ponyville with her parents and brothers, two older, one younger. The unicorn still had yet to find her special talent and earn her cutie mark, but she was ever-determined, often trying new hobbies to find out who she was. If she’d been a little younger, she could’ve been a fourth Cutie Mark Crusader.

 

She finally found the house where Sweetswirl and Birdsong lived. She gently kicked the door and said, “Hello? It’s me, Inkspill!”

 

The door flew open and a chocolate brown mare with a pink and red mane came out, looking delighted.

 

“Inkspill, sweetheart! I was beginning to worry! You’re an hour late.”

 

As she walked in, Inkspill sighed and said, “Yeah, I know. My train was late and then I got lost on the way to here from the station.”

 

Sweetswirl clicked her tongue, saying, “You inherited my sister’s sense of direction. Which means that you don’t have one.”

 

“Where’s the guest room again?” Inkspill asked. “The last time I was here, I was just a filly, so I can’t remember.”

 

“Upstairs, third door to the right.”

 

“Thanks, Aunt Sweetswirl.”

 

The unicorn followed the directions, finally finding the room where she had stayed the other two times she’d come to visit. She began to unpack her suitcase, not bothering to make the room neat. Messy rooms felt more like home, anyway.

 

 

***

 

True Colors was asleep in the meadow, but wouldn’t be for long. She was beginning to have a nice, cozy dream, but she was awakened by a voice saying, “Hi there! I’m Inkspill; I’m a unicorn from Ponyville, but I’m visiting and my aunt told me to find some ponies my own age to talk to and you look around the right age, so hi there!”

 

True Colors opened one eye, and then the other. She saw another unicorn standing over her, watching with such a dazzling smile that it was difficult to be angry with her. Her mane was purple and orange, and her coat was a deep brown, contrasting with True Color’s pale pink, almost white coat. She noticed that this unicorn, like herself, didn’t have her cutie mark yet.

 

“Um… hello,” True Colors said softly. She avoided looking the new unicorn in the eye.

 

This didn’t seem to discourage the brown unicorn, though. “My name is Inkspill.”

 

“I’m… I’m True Colors.”

 

“Ooh! True Colors! That’s such a pretty name! But can I just call you ‘True’ for short? I think it’s a cute nickname. I see you don’t have your cutie mark yet. Me neither. I have no idea who I am or what I’m good at! I suppose you never really know until you know, right? Do you have any ideas as to what your talent might be?” Inkspill said, talking a mile a minute.

 

True Colors blinked in surprise that such a young unicorn could say so much, before saying, “Umm… sure, I guess you could call me ‘True.’ And no, I honestly have no idea what my cutie mark and/or talent will be.”

 

“Well, that makes two of us.”

 

Inkspill lay down in the meadow next to True, staring up at the clouds.

 

“Have you lived in Canterlot your whole life?” she asked.

 

True nodded. “I live near the castle. You said you came from Ponyville, right?”

 

“Yep,” said Inkspill. “My parents—Iris and Splatter—built a cottage back when they first got married. They put it near the Everfree Forest, but I think they regret it now. My brothers and I are always trying to go in when they’re not looking.”

 

“I wish my sisters were like that. They both somehow manage to be Miss Perfect. Just like my cousin Celes—my cousin Tia,” True muttered, correcting herself just in time. Everypony already compared her to Celestia; no point in making things worse. “Tia’s just a lot nicer about it.”

 

“Oh, come on now,” said Inkspill, rolling over to look at the other unicorn, “they can’t be perfect. It’s not possible.”

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

Inkspill laughed, which made True Colors sigh. Of course this unicorn wouldn’t know how dead serious she was being. After all, they’d only just met. Inkspill didn’t know Skylight and Bloom, both of whom already had their cutie marks and talents. (The Big Dipper for finding constellations and a daisy for helping flowers grow, respectively.) They never screwed up. They always made Mom and Dad proud. They could run fast like everyone else. True Colors was extremely clumsy, was never good enough, and found it difficult to breathe if she tried to run at all. Needless to say, she had big horseshoes to fill.

 

“What are your brothers like?” True asked Inkspill, pulling evasive action from the subject of her family.

 

“Well,” Inkspill said, turning her gaze up at the clouds again, “my oldest brother, Doctor, has an hour glass as a cutie mark, but he refuses to tell us what it means. Maximus, my second-oldest brother, is really good at lifting things, so he does odd jobs for our neighbors carrying heavy stuff. His cutie mark is a barbell. My younger brother, Goldrush, is still a blank flank, like us. Though at the rate I’m going, he’s probably going to get his cutie mark before me!”

 

“How long are you staying in Canterlot?”

 

“Just over the summer,” she said with a sigh. “Goldrush went to camp and both of my other brothers have jobs—though what it is Doctor does, I have no idea—so my parents said I could come here to visit so I wouldn’t be bored. After the summer ends, it’s back to Ponyville so I can go to school. I guess school is okay, but it’s a long time to be cooped up inside.”

 

“I homeschool, so I’ve never had to deal with that issue.”

 

“You should consider yourself to be very lucky.”

 

“I’d love to switch with you,” True said, looking at the other unicorn with envy. “At least you get to hang around other ponies our age. All I have are Skylight and Bloom, my sisters.”

 

“I’m the only filly left in my class without her cutie mark… everypony else already knows who they are and what their lives are going to be. I can barely even think about tomorrow!”

 

True Colors laughed, a lovely sound that made Inkspill smile. “I spend way too much time thinking about tomorrow. My sisters say I need to learn how to live in the moment.”

 

They lay there in silence for a while, gazing up at the sky as the clouds rolled by. Inkspill, who normally felt the need to fill the silence with words at all times, was surprisingly comfortable this way. The silence with True wasn’t awkward at all.

 

“Have you ever seen pictures in the clouds?” True asked her.

 

“Not pictures, exactly. I see shapes,” Inkspill replied, “and those shapes tell stories. My brothers don’t get it, but I’ve seen loads of stories in the clouds. Do you see pictures?”

 

“I see entire paintings. Like look at that one, for instance.” She gestured towards a bird-like shape in the sky. “That one looks like a phoenix flying across the midnight sky—I can almost see the oranges and reds and yellows…”

 

“I think the phoenix is looking for somepony,” Inkspill said, watching the phoenix cloud. “I think she’s looking for her owner—hey, maybe she’s Princess Celestia’s pet!”

 

True shook her head. “No, Philomena has longer wings than that and is more of a rose-red shade than an orange-ish shade.”

 

Inkspill glanced at her. “Have you met Philomena? Because if you have, you’ve obviously met Celestia, too.”

 

True, realizing too late that she’d slipped up, avoided Inkspill’s gaze. “We’ve met.”

 

Inkspill just gave her a look.

 

“…several times. Like, on a semi-weekly basis…”

 

“Your family is friends with Celestia?”

 

“She’s…” True Colors began. She considered lying, but decided that Inkspill was bound to find out the truth eventually. “Celestia is my cousin—like, fifth cousin nine times removed. Or it might have been ninth cousin five times removed. I always forget. I remember that we’re related to her through her mother Dawn’s sister Sunshine, but that’s about it.”

 

“Wow. So, is she the cousin Tia you mentioned?”

 

True nodded. “Tia is what I call her. Well, Luna started it—I just picked it up.”

 

“It must be nice to be related to royalty… being able to visit the castle whenever you like. I bet your family is up-to-date on everything that happens in Equestria.”

 

“Actually, it’s not really all its hyped up to be. You only get to live in the castle and be treated like royalty if you’re a first or second cousin, and not even ponies related to the royal family are allowed to know anything before anypony else. And everypony has higher expectations of you, too, especially since Celestia is basically Equestria’s deity. I don’t mind it, though. Celestia’s really nice, and now that I’m getting to know Luna, I find her rather likable, too.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Thanks,” True said suddenly.

 

“For what?”

 

“Not treating me any different now that you know. Since I’m the cousin of two princesses, and both my sisters are overachievers, everypony expects me to be something special.” She sighed sadly. “But I’m not. I’m just a normal unicorn who wishes that she had a normal life to go with it.”

 

“But you’re…” Inkspill began, but she stopped due to not finding the right world. “Fascinating,” “beautiful,” “amazing,” and “wonderful” had all crossed her mind, but she’d only just met True. She didn’t want to scare her off.

 

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think you’re something special.”

 

“You are, too,” True Colors murmured.

 

True slipped into silent thought at that point, to engrossed in her imagination and the clouds to notice the birds flying across the sky, the group of colts playing football nearby, or the salespony who was shouting at ponies to buy his product. But she wasn’t too distracted to notice that Inkspill had moved a little bit closer.

 

 

***

 

The doorbell rang the next day. True Colors, who was on her bed reading a book at the time, heard Bloom shout, “True Colors! Get that!”

 

“Sure, but only because you asked so politely,” she muttered, but she got up and trotted downstairs anyway. She opened the door and was surprised to see Inkspill standing on her front porch.

 

“I’m here!” she chirped.

 

“Yes… you are,” True said, still wondering why Inkspill was there but not minding in the least.

 

“I was bored and I wanted to see you so I asked around where Bloom and Skylight lived since I knew more ponies know who they are than they know who you are, no offense, and somepony pointed me here, so I’m here!”

 

“Yes… you are.” It was repetitive, but it was all True could think of to say.

 

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

 

“Well, sure, but you can come inside if you want.”

 

“I’d love to!”

 

“Follow me.”

 

True led Inkspill inside, not bothering to tell her parents they had company. It wasn’t like they’d notice or care. They went up, up, up… up three flights of stairs they went, all the way to the top floor where True Colors’s room was. The pink unicorn pushed the door open with her head, stepping back to let Inkspill step inside.

 

The room was fairly messy, but it was certainly neater than Inkspill’s (not that that was exactly hard to do). A canopy bed sat in the corner of the room, and the bedspread was unfolded and wrinkled. One of the pillows was under the bed. True’s bookshelf was nearby, sitting underneath the window. It was overflowing—about five shelves’ worth of books were crammed onto three shelves. The floor was showered with scattered knick knacks, books, and pieces of paper.

 

Inkspill used her horn to take a piece of crumpled up paper and un-crumpled it.

 

“No, wait, don’t look at that!” True Colors said all of a sudden.

 

Inkspill looked at her, head tipped slightly to the side as she wore a quizzical expression. “What? Why not?”

 

“I… it’s… I mean…” True stuttered. She took the wrinkled paper and began to wad it back up again. “It’s nothing. It’s garbage. Just some sketches I did last night when I was… when I got bored and couldn’t sleep. Nothing important.”

 

“Can I see?”

 

True was surprised by the question. She’d been trying to learn how to draw for her whole life, and Bloom and Skylight had told her not to waste her time.

 

“You’ll never find your talent if you waste your time with your head in the clouds,” Skylight had told her one day.

 

“Find something useful to do,” Bloom had agreed, glaring at her sister.

 

No one had ever shown interest—real, genuine interest—in her pictures, before.

 

“Why?” True asked her friend.

 

Inkspill shrugged. “I don’t know. I… I’m just curious.”

 

“Well… okay… but… but don’t laugh, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You have to promise.”

 

“I do! I promise!” Inkspill said earnestly.

 

Something in her voice made True Colors trust her. She gave her the paper and watched her unfold it again. True held her breath as Inkspill scanned the paper with her blue eyes. True had always told herself that she didn’t care what people thought of her artwork, sketches, and drawings, but that was all rubbish. The truth was, she did care. A lot. And Inkspill’s approval would mean more than anything else.

 

The picture was a rough pencil sketch of an alicorn standing on a cliff, watching a downpour of shooting stars.

 

“Oh, wow,” said Inkspill, looking at the picture with obvious admiration. “You’re really good, True. Why would you crumple it up? If it were me who drew this picture, I’d want everyone to see it!”

 

True Colors sighed. “You’re the first one to ever ask to see it. I used to try to show my mother and father and my sisters, but none of them cared. It’s not like I’m even that great at it. It’s more of a pastime and hobby than anything. It’s not like Bloom’s work with flowers—you know; a hobby and her job.”

 

“Your family sounds really…” Inkspill let her voice trail off a bit. She was about to say something nasty, but she thought better of it and shook her head. It wouldn’t do well to annoy her new friend by insulting her family. Besides, every family had their problems.

 

“Really unloving?” True said, sighing and shaking her head.

 

“Well, um, I mean—“ Inkspill spluttered, unsure whether she should nod and say that she agreed or deny ever thinking such a thing and try to comfort True.

 

True laughed dryly.

 

“No, don’t worry, it’s okay, Inkspill,” she said. “You don’t have to lie. You’re right. They don’t love me. Or at least, not as much…”

 

“Oh, come on now,” said Inkspill, trotting closer to True and giving her a comforting nuzzle on the neck. “I’m sure they all love you… how could they not?”

 

They sat there in silence for a while after that, Inkspill’s head resting on her neck, feeling her breathing. True normally never let anyone get this close to her, but, like everything, it felt so natural with Inkspill that she didn’t mind at all. In fact, she could close her eyes and almost be comfortable enough to drift off to sleep…

 

Inkspill broke the peaceful silence with, “So, what do you want to do today?”

 

True blinked out of her pleasant daze and said, “Um… whatever you want to do is fine… I didn’t really have any big plans today…”

 

“How about we go running in the park?” Inkspill suggested, and True’s heart sank. “I found this awesome path last time I came to visit.”

 

True didn’t quite meet her friend’s eyes as she said, “I… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m not a good runner.”

 

“Neither am I. Watch me do it anyway!”

 

“No, no, you don’t understand. I… I was always a slow runner as a filly, but my parents and sisters would be so impatient with me, so I’d always run faster than I really could to try and keep up. And one day I ran too fast and hard for me and I collapsed. Ever since then, if I even try to run, I can’t breathe and I pass out.”

 

“That’s awful,” Inkspill said, looking sympathetic. “Your body probably felt overworked.”

 

True nodded. “Probably. The point is I can’t run… I’m sorry. I know it’s annoying.”

 

Inkspill shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s not like it’s your fault. Some bodies were just not built for running.”

 

“I’m so glad you understand,” True said, relaxing a little bit. She’d never told anyone what had happened to her, and was relieved that Inkspill didn’t get annoyed or insist that they go running anyway.

 

Inkspill flopped onto the bed to stare up at the ceiling. “I’d still like to go to the park—we can just not run. There’s a lot to see and the flowers are pretty.”

 

“Okay. I could use some pretty flowers.”

 

“We all could.”

 

True and Inkspill trotted out the door, grabbing a carton of chalk as they passed it.

 

***

 

They arrived at the park and found that they were basically alone, except for a couple of young colts playing football. Inkspill and True sat down under the shade of a tall tree and decided to use the chalk they had brought with them.

 

True decided to draw a picture on the sidewalk. Using her magic to control a yellow piece of chalk, she drew a bird with a worm in its mouth.

 

“That looks really lifelike,” Inkspill commented, as she tried to draw a house that looked more like some sort of demented cake. Eventually she gave up and decided to try her hoof at writing something. She eventually wrote out:

 

If life keeps on throwing you trial after trial,

and you just need to feel happy for a while,

leave it to Inkspill and True.

They know just what to do.

Our pictures and poems are sure to make you smile.

 

True grinned after reading the limerick, saying, “You should just leave poems like that all over the park.”

 

“Okay. You leave pictures all over the park. We can make it look like the embodiment of creativity exploded in this park.”

 

And so they spent that day in the park, scattering drawings and writings all over the sidewalks. Inkspill signed each picture and poem with: “Brought to you by Ink Colors.”

 

“Ink Colors?” True had asked the first time she did this.

 

“Inkspill plus True Colors,” she explained. “Since we’re a team.”

 

True Colors smiled and began to draw a new picture on a stone wall while Inkspill began to write a sonnet nearby.

 

 

***

The two ponies were laughing as they walked back to Sweetswirl’s house. “Okay,” said True, “today was too much fun. We have to do this again.”

 

“Totally,” Inkspill agreed. “I think Ink Colors could become a big thing. Did you see the looks on everypony’s faces when they found our stuff?”

 

“Most of them seemed really surprised, but I think they liked it.”

 

“A little color and poetry never hurt anypony.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

They stopped; they had reached Inkspill’s cousin’s house. “Well,” Inkspill sighed, “here we are. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, True, okay?”

 

“Okay. I’ll come over after breakfast,” True promised.

 

“Maybe we can creative-bomb someplace new.”

 

True Colors grinned. “Way ahead of you. I have an idea.”

 

“Um, should I be afraid?” Inkspill chuckled.

 

“Oh, yes,” she assured her, “very afraid.”

 

 

***

 

“Are you sure this is legal?” Inkspill asked True the next day for about the fifth time.

 

“Pretty sure,” True said for about the fifth time.

 

“I hope so. You don’t strike me as the landing in jail type.”

 

“You’ve only known me for just over two days. You have no idea what type I really am.”

 

“Well, are you the landing in jail type?”

 

“…no.”

 

“Ha!” Inkspill said with triumph.

 

“Besides,” True said, ignoring her friend, “if we get the owner of the building’s permission first, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count as graffiti.”

 

“There’s a fine line between vandalism and art.”

 

“Too true.”

 

They trotted up to the bakery and pushed open the door. The owner, Sugar Medley, was behind the counter, making what appeared to be a wedding cake.

 

“Hi, Sugar!” True said, leading Inkspill to the counter.

 

“Hello, True Colors,” the golden-yellow mare replied. Flour and egg shells were in her tangled mane. How they got there, Inkspill didn’t ask. Quite frankly, Inkspill didn’t want to know.

 

“This is my friend, Inkspill,” True said, jutting her head towards the other unicorn.

 

“Hi,” Inkspill said, waving.

 

“We were just wondering if it was okay if we drew and wrote on the side of your wall?”

 

Sugar Medley looked confused. “What?”

 

“You know, draw pictures and sketches and write little poems,” Inkspill said. “We could make them all bakery related, so it’d be like an ad for you, except we’d be doing this for free.”

 

“And the chalk we’d be using to do this washes right off,” True added, “so if you don’t like it, we can just use water and the wall will look like we never touched it.”

 

Sugar frowned, looking like she was thinking it over. Finally, she sighed and said, “Well, okay. But try to be neat about it, okay?”

 

“Okay!” True said brightly, pleased with the results of the conversation. “Thanks, Sugar.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

They hurried outside with their chalk (of varying sizes and colors) and got started on Ink Colors’s second project.

 

True started a sketch of a cupcake, saying, “If we do this well, it could bring a lot of attention to Sugar’s bakery.”

 

“And to us,” Inkspill added. “Everypony wins.”

 

***

 

Three hours later, the two ponies stepped back to admire their work. Pictures of cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and other pastries (courtesy of True) were surrounded by poems about food (courtesy of Inkspill).

 

“I’d say it’s another job well done,” said Inkspill, looking pleased with herself.

 

True nodded. “Same here.”

 

“I think this one is my favorite poem,” Inkspill said, gesturing to one to the left of True’s drawing of an egg being cracked over a bowl.

 

Crack eggs, stir them in.

Sweet smell of chocolate surrounds.

The timer goes off.

 

“It doesn’t rhyme and it’s not grammatically correct, but I like it anyway,” Inkspill said.

 

“Me too.”

“So,” said Inkspill, as they began to trot away, “where do you want to go next?”

 

“Hmm… how about we get some ice cream?” True suggested. “I know this great ice cream parlor not too far from here.”

 

 

***

 

“What we need,” said True as she daintily sipped on her strawberry milkshake and Inkspill shoveled down her chocolate banana sundae, “is something that can make ponies smile. I like making ponies happy.”

 

Inkspill swallowed a mouthful of ice cream, chocolate syrup all over her mouth, and said, “You got any ideas?”

 

“Well,” True said thoughtfully, “maybe we can plant little comics or drawings in places where ponies are sure to find them.”

 

“And we can make them funny,” Inkspill agreed.

 

“We can put them in little envelopes—“ True was getting excited now. “—and seal them with smiley face stickers!”

 

“It’s perfect!” Inkspill was excited, too. “It’ll be sure to make ponies smile.”

 

 

***

 

“Envelopes?”

 

“Check.”

 

“Smiley face stickers, heart stickers, and star stickers?”

 

“Check, check, and check.”

 

“Pens?”

 

“Check.”

 

“Colored pencils?”

 

“Check.”

 

“Paper?” True asked.

 

“Check,” Inkspill confirmed.

 

They were sitting under the shade of their favorite tree the next afternoon, the supplies for Ink Colors’s next project spread out in front of them.

 

True grinned. “Let’s get started. We can plant them tomorrow.”

 

“Plant them…” Inkspill chuckled. “Like we’re planting seeds.”

 

“Seeds of joy!”

 

“That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard you say.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” True replied, but she was laughing.

 

Taking a sheet of paper, she began to draw a rough sketch of Photo Finish, a well-known fashion photographer. There was a speech bubble next to her saying, “EET EES TIME TO MAKE… ZE MAGIKZ!” She peeked at what Inkspill was writing.

 

My Soulmate: Two Haikus

My soulmate is good.

My soulmate is the best thing.

It is wonderful.

 

I love my soulmate.

Who is my soulmate, you ask?

Chocolate, of course.

 

True chuckled to herself. Leave it to Inkspill to be thinking about food.

 

By the time the sun went down, they had fifteen jokes, four comic strips, twelve drawings, and eleven poems.

 

“I say we plant these tomorrow and see how ponies like them,” Inkspill said, “and if it goes over well, we can make more.”

 

“Good idea. Meet me here tomorrow around nine so we can put these in envelopes?”

 

“Sure, I’ll be here.”

 

 

***

 

The two ponies watched from the brick wall in the park as the first pony found an envelope, taped to a tree. The pony (a white earth pony with a mitten as his cutie mark) opened the envelope, looked at the paper inside, and smiled a little bit.

 

Inkspill grinned. “He likes it!”

 

“So far, Operation Random Envelopes has been a success!” True said delightedly.

 

“You know,” Inkspill said, “when I first met you a few days ago, you didn’t talk nearly as much as you do now.”

 

“I don’t talk nearly as much to anyone as I do to you,” True said truthfully.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Nopony really talked to me, and I’m not outgoing enough to start a conversation myself.”

 

“I still don’t understand why nopony would talk to you. You’re very interesting. In a good way, I mean.”

 

“Thank you,” True said, averting her gaze to avoid feeling embarrassed, “but I personally don’t think so…”

 

“You’re too modest for your own good, True,” Inkspill sighed. “You realize that, right?”

 

True didn’t answer. She instead changed the subject to the reaction of a young filly who’d found an envelope planted in a flower bed.

 

 

***

 

“True! True! True, come down here!”

 

True Colors awoke to the sound of Inkspill’s voice early in the morning. Out her window, she could still see Celestia raising the sun in the distance. She trotted over to the window and looked down. There was her friend, standing below the window.

 

“True!” Inkspill said again, bouncing up and down delightedly. “Get down here, fast! You won’t believe what happened to me last night!”

 

“What happened?” True said sleepily.

 

“I got my cutie mark!”

 

True found herself no longer tired then. “Really?”

 

“Yes, come down here and see!”

 

“Coming!”

 

True trotted down the stairs and out her front door. Inkspill was still jumping up and down.

 

“Hold still so I can see the cutie mark!” the pale pink unicorn laughed.

 

“Sorry,” Inkspill laughed, standing still for what may have been the first time in her life, “I’m just so happy!”

 

The cutie mark was there, all right, and it fit her name perfectly. A bottle of ink with a quill in it.

 

“For writing!” True said, smiling. “That’s perfect for you!”

 

“I know, right?” Inkspill replied, going back to prancing around the mostly empty road. The few ponies who were up that early were doing one of two things. The ones who were close enough to hear what they were saying smiled in congratulations at Inkspill. The ones who weren’t looked at her like she was either crazy or had had too much sugar.

 

“When’d you finally get it?” True asked.

 

Inkspill stopped, looking a bit embarrassed then. “I was writing this short story… when I finished it; it just popped onto my flank.”

 

“May I see it?”

 

“Um… it’s sort of… personal…”

 

“So are my drawings,” said True, “but I let you see them.”

 

“I’m afraid you’ll laugh.”

 

“I won’t laugh. I promise.”

 

Inkspill sighed and went into her bag. She pulled out a few papers. “Here,” she said.

 

True took them and began to read.

 

 

***

 

Something Special

 

There was once a young pony. A very special pony. She was kind, sweet, funny, and just an all-around great girl. But she didn’t realize that you don’t need to be the kindest, sweetest, funniest girl in Equestria to be something special.

 

This pony strived for greatness.

 

Day in and day out, she’d try to form herself into something she wasn’t. Something that measured up to the expectations of those around her. But nothing she ever did seemed to please them. She really was trying her best, it was just that… her best… wasn’t always perfect.

 

But perfection isn’t necessary to be special. Too bad she didn’t realize that.

 

Whenever the pony felt frustrated or happy or sad or any other emotion, really, she’d draw it. She loved art—it made her happy, and it made others happy, too. But the ponies around her didn’t see how important it was to her.

 

“Do something practical,” they’d say.

 

“Anypony could do that,” they’d say.

 

The young pony kept her head down. She’d just have to keep trying to please them. And in the meantime, she’d have to keep drawing.

 

One day, the pony got fed up. “I don’t want to be perfect anymore!” she thought. “I can’t do it anyway, so why bother trying?”

 

She sighed and got out her paper and pencils. She drew for hours on end. It was the longest she’d ever drawn. As she finished each picture, she’d hang it up on her wall.

 

Sunsets, alicorns, flowers, cupcakes, manticores, turtles! Anything that popped into her head, she drew it.

 

Finally, she sat, exhausted but happy, on her bed, looking at her work.

 

“I did this,” she murmured. “Me.”

 

That’s when it dawned on her. She wasn’t perfect. But she was special. She was an artist. That was who she was—who she was meant to be—what made her happy—what singled her out from all the other ponies in the city.

 

She smiled as she fell asleep, too tired and pleased with herself to notice that her cutie mark had appeared.

 

The End

 

 

***

 

Inkspill watched nervously as True finished reading the story.

 

True continued to stare at the pages, though she wasn’t really reading.

 

“Inkspill…” she murmured. “Is this… is this supposed to be about…?”

 

True didn’t finish her sentence and Inkspill looked down at her hooves. Neither of them had to say a word. They both understood.

 

“Thank you,” True whispered to her friend, nuzzling her with affection.

 

“Anytime,” Inkspill whispered back.

 

True closed her eyes as it occurred to her that Inkspill would have to leave at the end of the summer. Looking at the brown unicorn, she smiled.

 

She’d make the most of every moment they had.

 

~ The End ~

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