Twilight arrived home and immediately set about laying the book carefully on the table, carefully arranging her equipment, changing the angle now if I put that just there so that the light shines through the pages an-
"Uhh, Twilight?"
"Yes, Spike what is it? Can't you see I'm busy?" Twilight turned to face him briefly, before snapping back down to the desk, deep in preparation for Celestia-knows-what.
"I was just wondering why you have an autopsy prepared. Especially for your old copy of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone." Said the young dragon, indignantly. This he mused, may not have been the best of ideas, he could already tell; the franticness in her voice, the sense of rising panic she just emanated at times like this and the jittery movements. She didn't understand something, this was never good. "Look Spike, this isn't game, this is important. If this were to be an unobserved phenomenon, then I'd immediately have to report my findings to the princess! Instead of standing there, why don't you get that copy of Maladies and Mildews of the Modern Book, the one I had last week, remember?"
Spike muttered something momentarily, before retrieving the book for Twilight.
"I have some gem hunting to do with Rarity today so..." There wasn't any point, nothing could draw Twilight's attention now.

"Finally," Twilight exclaimed "some peace". She delved into Maladies and Mildew of the Modern Book "I'm sure I'll find something. Time passed, and not a word on odd sketches in books. So she then took examined the novel in question, tracing it's every familiar edge with a tentative hoof. She read pages and pages, not a changed word, not a page out of place, not a trace of anything other than the sketch, that sketch looking at it now, the faces seemed contorted, grinning maliciously at her. She shook her head, "don't be ridiculous", out loud, however, she sounded even less sure of herself. By this time it was almost evening, Spike would be back soon. "I guess" Twilight gulped, as this was something she had never admitted. "It was ...nothing." The last word was little more than a whisper. She picked up the rubber and begin to remove the image that'd wasted a day of her life. Heedless of the ridiculous screeching of the rubber she continued the task.

"Huh?" The long drawn out screeching seemed to emanate from the book on the linoleum counter. "What the hell?" I murmured, mystified by the horrendous noise. Carefully I opened the offending novel. One, two three pages in the screeching was suddenly amplified, reminiscent of fingernails on a blackboard. With every screech however, part of my picture vanished. A rubber? But who could be doing that? I turned the page over. Nothing abnormal, just a few dedications. I turned it back, grabbing a pencil, I begin to write. Hello? Is someone doing that? And if so, who? My heart did a flip in my chest, the scratching and scrabbling of a quill on the page, spatters of ink starting to appear. I am Twilight Sparkle, bearer of the Element of Magic. Though who are you?

Twilight sat at the desk, eyes wide - waiting on a reply from her favourite chidhood novel. When an answer did appear, she was unsure as whether to blush or scream; I'm a fan.