Starlight in a Broken Vessel

by the-pieman

Chapter 108

Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Chapter 108

I pick up the book and flip through it as I walk through town without any real destination in mind. The entries are in chronological order, and each is pretty simple, with just a day/month/year date combo, the location, and what the researcher did to try disrupting the song. Below those details are the explanations of what happened as a result.

Attempt: Tackle leader of the song, and hold her mouth shut.

Result: A freak wind caused a roofing tile to fall down, hitting me on the head and rendering me unconscious. Thankfully, it only caused a concussion.

Huh, that’s... something. Could still just be a random coincidence along with bad luck.

The next entry reads

Attempt: Cast silence spell on the area, and prevent the song.

Result: Magical feedback strong enough to throw me through a wall, knocking me unconscious. Thankfully, it only caused a concussion.

Hard to argue with that, but so far nothing like what Twilight could be worried about.

Attempt: Dropping a microsurge grenade to disrupt the spell matrix.

Result: Sudden and inexplicable flamingo migration resulting in my being mobbed by over six hundred such animals. Thankfully, I only lost a lung and an eye.

Dafuq did I just read?

Attempt: Dropping a microsurge grenade (again) to disrupt the spell matrix.

Result: A branch from a tree that did not previously exist whipped back from a flexed position to hit me in the face. However, I lost my other eye to this, and cannot continue my studies.


Attempt: Direct a dragon into the song’s area, to disrupt the SMN via fear and/or panic

Result: I am writing this from inside a dragon that was teleported right in front of me as it was closing its jaws. Results inconclusive.

Now that’s just craptastic timing.

Attempt: Set fire to the schoolhouse in the midst of the SMN to encourage the foals to evacuate in place of finishing the SMN.

Result: My third degree burns from the fire refusing to light until I was inspecting the firepaste are all the results I care about, thank you.

Okay, now he’s a moronic psycho.

Attempt: Light off small firecrackers to scare the lead singer into missing a line.

Result: I’m not sure where I am, but it’s really dark and I can hear things out there. If you’re getting this, please send help.

I need to find somewhere to sit down and read this... ah! the park. Also, how the fuck did that happen?

Attempt: Stop singing in the midst of the SMN

Result: literal frog in my throat; medical professionals have no idea where it came from, but it’s very healthy. Have adopted it. It’s blue.

Later note: The frog exploded, right as I was about to propose to my darling. That’s just wrong.

I agree. Most blue frogs are poisonous and should not be kept as pets.

Attempt: Trip one of the singers, causing them to miss a beat as well as a dance step.

Result: For two weeks, my legs seemed paralyzed, as I could not move them.

I call bull.

Attempt: Another pony attempted a flying tackle on a minotaur leading the resultant parade, as an act of racial hatred. Not affiliated with researcher.

Result: Somehow, she tripped, rolled into a beehive, then a pillow full of pegasus feathers, and finally ended up somehow trapped in a bundle of rope, completely unable to escape as the bees attacked, and then a small foal mistook her for a pinata. considering her previous actions, I feel this was absolutely justified on the part of Harmony, and approve wholeheartedly.

Friggin’ racists.

Attempt: Attempted to lead the SMN to the top of the nearby mountain, to deter the other participants.

Result: A four-hundred hooflength drop onto hard stone. Back is still mending. Why there was a pelican in the desert, I still don’t know.

Obviously it was Winter somewhere else.

And so on. There was something about one attempt leading to the researching getting hit with a custard pie and something involving a half-ton of rancid ice-cream.

In the back of the book was a few blank pages, evidently for filling more if I so chose. Considering that most of the entries are really bad, I don’t see why anyone would... except that a lot of them seemed rather exaggerated, or just really bad luck. It was like the SCP files, but for the darwin awards. Written by sixth-graders.

I lean back on the bench, just in time to get a bucket of paint on my face. In the literal sense, too, as it wasn’t falling opening-down, either.

And that hurt. I just got out of the hospital!

“Someone better have a really good reason for that little accident!” I yell to whoever was nearby.

I look up in time to see Ditzy touch down, a look of sadness and guilt on her face. “I- I’m so sorry, I lost my grip all of a sudden, and the paint just dropped! I’m so sorry Anthony!” the gray pegasus looked about ready to cry.

“Well, it’s not that bad.” A blatant lie, it hurt like hell. “Perhaps next time you should just walk when carrying things that can be dropped.”

Ditzy nods tearfully. The gray mailmare suddenly lunged forward, gripping me in a vice-like hug.

“Woah there, it’s fine. No big deal.” I just try to ignore the pain. I don’t want to make her cry.

After several moments of her just continuing to hug, me she finally lets go. “I- I’m still sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.” The little blonde pony looks like she’s been whipped, minus the lash marks, and it’s heart-breaking.

As she flies away, I have to wonder if that counts as the universe getting its vengeance on me. No, it was just a coincidence, it could have happened even if I wasn’t here. I grab a small stick from the ground and, using the small bit of paint on my face as ink, write my own entry.

Attempt: Easily resisted the urge to sing through sheer willpower.

Result: Absolutely nothing. The previous researchers are all whiners.

Satisfied, I turn to go back to the library, step on a discarded piece of ice-cream, and meet the road with my face. It hurts all the more when the still-cold ice-cream gets into the cuts on my face. Now what wasteful, clumsy idiot would waste ice cream by just dropping it? Nevermind about the road hazard, that’s just insulting.

I stand up, and take two steps, then find the only mud puddle left in the edge of the grass and fall on my face again. Someone in charge of this world must have a fetish for pratfalls.

“You know, if this is revenge for resisting, it should have happened weeks ago, moron, and on top of that, these little trips are pathetic.” I say out loud to the world around me.

Then, a grand piano hit two feet to my left.

“See, that doesn’t even make sense. If it’s supposed to be a warning, it should make sense in context, or it-”

With a whumpf, a forty-pound sack of rice hits me in the back, slamming my face into the dirt painfully. Talking back doesn’t seem to be getting me anywhere...

But it’s obvious that whatever’s doing this is sentient. “So are you just gonna be doing this all day? Until I do what, admit that SMN’s aren’t just minor annoyances? Or do you want a doughnut or something?”

I lift my head, and nothing happens. Figuring that it’s at least laying off for now, I stand up, and look down to wipe the dirt off my shirt and pants. I stop when I see that there’s rice stuck to my shirt forming words. ‘saY sOrrY’. Huh.

“Oh come on, certainly we, as intelligent beings, can talk this out. Unless you enjoy pulling these simple, overly-childish and frankly pointless inconveniences on me.”

I look around, and see the rice on the ground, spilled into the words ‘alriGht, haVe iT your Way. nO heLp geTting yOur poWers bAck’.

“Pfft, like I need help. I just have to wait. Anyways, what’s your beef with me, really?”

After a few moments of nothing, I experimentally kick the rice, and -to my utter lack of surprise- forms words. ‘yOu messEd my sOng uP. JerK.’

“I may be a jerk, but I don’t take weeks to set up my revenge, and when I do, it’s better than falling objects. Why wait so long to drop stuff and make me fall?”

‘didn’T wAnna kIll yOu.’

Oh. “Well thanks, but why the delay? You have a root canal that day or something?”

‘no, sOng ElseWheRe. Not eveRyWherE aT oncE.’

“Fine, fine. So who exactly are you? You got a name?”

‘i Am haRmonY. alsO, lettErs hArd.’

“Wait... for real? Dude, this is hilarious! Harmony itself? Heh, you’d make quite the impression on Earth.”

‘I dO nOt unDerstAnd. I am HarmOny-betWeen-pOniEs.’

“Great. So why the issue with me then? You worry about ponies, and I’ll worry about me, ‘kay?”

Several moments went by without a response. Then, as I turned to leave, a swarm of passing butterflies formed the words ‘sOrrY, thOUght yOu weRe a pOny. hAve a nIce daY.’

“Before you go, is there a way I can prove I talked with you? Twilight would flip out, and I’m not passing up that opportunity. Heck, I could rub it in Celly’s face!”

The butterflies passed by again. ‘Run throUgh tOwn naKed, scReaMing ‘i sPoke to HarmonY tHrouGh thE butteRflIes.’ sHe’ll kNow wHat thaT meAns.’

“Nice try, but I don’t see why doing it naked has anything to do with it. Everyone else around is already naked in the first place... I just had a brilliant idea for later, thank you. If you ever want some advice on better revenge material, just ask. I got loads of ideas. Anyways, nice chatting with ya, cya later. Or not.”

With that, I returned to my goal of going back to the library. Twilight may not believe me, but if she doesn’t, then I can mess with her anyway. Before I do go to see her, I take another stick and write in the book.

Attempt: Resisted the urge to sing through sheer willpower.

Result: Absolutely nothing. The previous researchers are all whiners

Had a conversation with Harmony itself weeks after the attempt. It didn’t know I was human, and now it’s leaving me alone. I assume I now have permission to ignore SMNs all I want.

Next Chapter: Chapter 109 Estimated time remaining: 19 Hours, 49 Minutes

Return to Story Description


Login with