>The market place is bustling with activity as you walk through it
>Looking over the list again, you see that there is only a few items left to get.
“Milk, eggs, and a loaf of bread.”
>You are Anon, and you’ve only been in this place for a few weeks.
>No one is really sure how, but you were dropped here likely because of magic fuckery.
>And no one knows how to get you back.
>So you’ve been getting used to this place and its inhabitants.
>Long story short, you’re in Equestria and this town is called Ponyville.
>Their leader, Princess Celestia, was kind of enough to give you a place to stay.
>Though truthfully, you hate how you’re basically on welfare.
>In any case, you’ve been trying to make some friends here.
>Unfortunately, that hasn’t worked out too well.
>Even the princess’s student who has been helping you out, is one of the few you can call a friend around here.
>Though you’re certain it’s more likely because you’re from another world.
>As for her friends, with the exception of Pinkie Pie, the others don’t mind you.
>But are not really your friends either.
>Sure they talk to you, but more or less are just acquaintances.
>As you’re dwelling on these thoughts, you accidentally run into a pony.
“Shit!”
>You stumble and look back towards the pony you knocked over.
>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.
>She looks at you with wide golden eyes and is shaking in fear.
>You attempt to calm her down and apologize.
“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t watching were I going. Let me help you up.”
>Just as you reach out to her, she gets up quickly and gallops away.
“Great, that went well.”
>Looking around, you see some ponies staring as if you did something wrong.

>No point in standing around, not like you can fix this.
>Just as you start to move again to finish your list, you step on something.
>Pausing to look down, you see a book on the ground.
>The mare must’ve dropped it when you ran into her.
>You pick it up and take a quick look inside to see if there is an address.
>There is nothing inside, and you realize the book is full of blank pages.
>Probably a sketch book, wouldn’t hurt to return it though.
>Who knows, maybe you can make a friend from this.
>You go back to shopping and pick up the last items on your list.
>After dropping off your groceries, you head out to see if Twilight can help you identify the mystery mare.
>You reach Golden Oaks and knock on the door.
>Spike, her baby dragon assistant, answers the door.
>”Oh, hi Anon, what’s up?”
>You smile at the little guy.
“Hey there Spike, is Twilight around?”
>He beams and nods.
>”Yep, come on in.”
>You walk in after him and immediately see Twilight sitting nearby with a stacks of books surrounding her.
“Hey Twilight, got a moment?”
>She places a bookmark on the page she is on and looks up to you.
>”Hey there, of course I do. What do you need?”
>You give her a quick rundown on what happened earlier and a description of the mare.
>She raises a hoof to her chin and starts to think.
>”I’m surprised you didn’t ask Pinkie first, but she does sound a little familiar.”
>You shudder.
“Yeah, but Pinkie would’ve talked my ear off, so I came to you first.”
>She giggles and continues.
>”That’s Pinkie, but the pony in question sounds like that one sketch artist I’ve heard of.”
“Alright, just give me an address so I can return this and apologize.”
>Twilight smiles, but shakes her head.
>”I’m afraid I don’t know where she lives, so you will have to ask Pinkie.”
>A part of you was afraid she would say that.
>You sigh and slump a little.

“Alright, fair enough.”
>”Oh come on Anon, she’s not that bad.”
>You give her a deadpan stare.
>Normally you would argue, but screw it, you’d rather save your breath.
>Just as you’re about to leave, Twilight calls out to you.
>”By the way, I’m certain her name is Happy Accident.”
>Considering how weird these ponies names are, you don’t question it anymore.
>You wave your hand in acknowledgment and head out.
>Doesn’t take you long to reach Sugarcube Corner, and you take a breath before heading in.

>Finally catching your breath, you set down your bags and start locking the door.
>After the last lock is in place, you feel relieved.
>That creature nearly scared you to death at the market.
>It looked like a deformed minotaur with no fur.
>Getting up, you open up your bags and go through your purchases.
“...More pencils, erasers, some more drawing paper...Where is the sketchbook..?”
>A small bit of panic hits you.
>You must’ve dropped it in your escape from that creature.
>It hurts to lose it, but you accept it.
“...Co-couldn’t risk that thing yelling at me...”
>Wiping away an errant tear, you pick up your things and head over to your easel.
>You focus on a bowl of fruit you set on the table in the center of the room.
>After staring for a few seconds, you start to sketch.
>Your eyes shoot back and forth from the bowl to the paper before you.
>Quickly moving the pencil and stopping occasionally to erase your mistakes.
>Minutes pass, and you finish.
>Setting down your pencil, you pick up the sketch and place it next the bowl of fruit.
>Looking back and forth between the two, you pick out the differences.
“...Needs work, my shading is off...Still terrible...”
>You mark it and set it on the ever growing pile of scrap.
>Setting up for the next sketch, you hear a knocking at the door.
“...Who could that be..?”

>Your anxiety flares up as you approach the door.
>Slowly, you start to unlock it.
>Most ponies have told you that you have too many locks.
>Most ponies don’t have the fears you do.
>Finally you finish the last lock, and very slowly, open the door.
>As you peak your head out, your eyes hurt for a moment from the light.
>As they finally adjust, the sight before you makes you freeze.
>”Hi, I came to apologize and to bring the book back you dropped.”
>It’s the creature from earlier.
>Your heart starts to race, and you want to run, but you can’t move.
>You stand there frozen for a while, before the creature starts to talk again.
>”So, here you go. I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going earlier.”
>It holds out the book you bought earlier.
>Finally you snapped out of it, and take the book back.
>Words return to you, but all you can manage is a mumbled thank you.
>It gives you a unfamiliar look, and rubs its claws? Hands? You’re not sure what, before backing up slowly.
>”I’m gonna just go. Uh, take care and...Well, bye.”
>It leaves your porch and walks away.
>You close the door, lock it back up, and hold the book close to you.
>Heart is still racing, and your fear is still there.
“...Th-that was close...At least I got my book back...”
>You look it over, it’s undamaged thankfully.
>Slowly you calm down, and walk back over to start sketching again.
>Though as you try to sketch, you find yourself distracted.
>While that thing scared you nearly to death, its form fascinated you.
>You feel driven to try to sketch it out.
>Placing another sheet on the canvas, you try to draw it from memory.
>Try as you might, you’re unable to get it correctly.
>A bit of frustration brews from within and you squeeze your eyes shut to focus.
“...Come on, come on...I-I can do this...I’ve done this before...”

>You try again, but the form is wrong, of this you are certain.
>You stomp your hoof in frustration, and set down your pencil.
“...I’ll just make some coffee...An-and try again...”
>Heading to the kitchen, you make a fresh pot and think more about the shape.
>The pot finishes brewing, and you grab a cup to bring back to the living room.
>Going back, you try once more at sketching.
>More frustration brews as you fail once again.
“...I-I don’t get it...May-maybe I was too afraid to focus on the details...”
>You feel a little sad, but an idea comes forth.
“...I could ask around about the creature...Wait, that means I’d have to talk to another po-pony...”
>Before you give up entirely, you decide to go ask the one pony who would know.
>Pinkie Pie.
>You wouldn’t resort to this, but you must sketch that creature.
>Thankfully, you don’t have to ask her face to face, you can just write a letter.
“...Sh-she will understand...”
>You pull out a sheet of paper and an envelope to get started.
“...Dear Pinkie Pie, I’m writing to you...”