II

“Wow...” said Pinkie. “I haven’t seen so many books in all my life! There’s even more than in Twilight’s house!”

“And no one of them as a title,” noticed Ryan, looking at the spines. “Weird. Anyway, we’d better start searching for the exit, before the Taunt comes back. Pinkie, jump on my shoulders.”

“Okey dokey lokey!”

Ryan almost fell to the ground. Pinkie was heavier than she looked.

“Weeeee! This is fun! What do we do now?”

“Could you take your hooves out of my eyes, please?”

“Ups, sorry...”

“That’s better. Now, can you see above the shelves? Look for any door or exit sign.”

“I see a big door over there!”

“Good, that must be the entrance.”

Still carrying Pinkie on his shoulders (because, honestly, who wouldn’t want to?), Ryan followed the directions of the pink pony and walked through the shelves, right towards the entrance. He advanced carefully, thinking twice before turning a corner, fearing that the Taunt could be waiting for them.

But the monster didn’t jump from behind the books, as Ryan was expecting, and they managed to get to the entrance safely. Both the door and the counter were inside the limits of a green line painted on the floor, with the shape of a square. The boy sighed in relief when he saw a signal inside that same square, with the words Taunt-Free Area. The creature would not attack them while they were there, apparently.  

Pinkie jumped off the shoulders of Ryan, and the young man tried to open the big wooden door, but it was useless.

“I guess we’ll have to find a key...” he said.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.”

Both Ryan and Pinkie were startled by that female voice, which came out of nowhere. They looked, and saw a woman at the other side of the counter, one that, Ryan would’ve sworn, wasn’t there a few seconds ago.

“Do you wish to leave?” she asked, with a smile.

“She looks a lot like you!” said Pinkie, talking to Ryan.

It was true. That woman was, basically, what he would be if he was of the opposite gender, and maybe a few years older. But Ryan didn’t care about that, they had found the exit to that place, and he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

“Yes, we wish,” he said. “What do we have to do?”

“You,” corrected the woman. “You have to do. You have to write.”

She took a bunch of white sheets of paper from behind the counter, as well as a pen, and left them on the wooden surface.

“Create a story,” she explained. “Then, you can go.”

“Do you write?” asked Pinkie. “I didn’t know that!”

“Yes...” mumbled Ryan. Unlike the pony, he was not very happy about that idea. “I... I kinda like writing...”

“Oh, then you have to meet my friend Twilight, cause she loves reading! And Rainbow Dash, too! Well, she’s kinda a newbie, you know? She didn’t like to read, until that day when she had that accident and went to the hospital, and then Twilight...”

“Pinkie, I don’t want to be rude, but I can’t concentrate if there’s too much noise.”

The pony smiled, apologizing with a look, and put a hoof on her lips, silently promising to be quiet.

But that wouldn’t be enough, Ryan knew. If they had asked him to write anything one or two months ago, he would’ve come up with something. However, his inspiration had been on strike for the past three weeks, both his mind and fingers were reluctant to create. Fate couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to put him in such situation.

The boy gulped and took the pen with his left hand. He realized, then, that he could just rip-off something. He knew books and short stories which were famous only inside the small circles of their fans, he could take things from them and do a mix-and-match. Who would care? The librarian woudn’t realize, she probably didn’t know about those stories.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” she said, still smiling.

Ryan was left paralyzed, feeling cold sweats. Could she read his mind, or what?

“You have a to create a story of your own,” she explained. “If you cheat, that green line in the ground will stop protecting us from the Taunt.”

“Ok...” he said, gulping again.

Ryan stared at the blank sheets of paper, with the pen trembling in his fingers, and begging to his brain to give birth to something, anything, no matter how small it could be. He approached the pen to the paper, afraid of releasing the first dot of ink, afraid to begin something that he would not be able to continue, afraid of having to crease the paper and start all over again.

Afraid that the smile of the librarian could turn into a grimace once she read the story.

Ryan left the pen in the counter. Once again, for the God-knows what time in three weeks, he had been defeated by the first page.

“I can’t”, he mumbled.

“Why not?” asked Pinkie. “Is there something wrong?”

Everything, thought Ryan, but he didn’t said that: “Nothing, it’s just... I have a lack of inspiration right now.”

“No problem,” smiled the librarian. “I’ll left the papers and the pen here. Try again when you feel capable of.”

“I have an idea!” said Pinkie. “Why don’t you read some of the books here? Maybe that way you could get some inspiration!”

Without getting too away from the safe zone, Ryan and Pinkie picked some books from the closer shelves and read them. They discovered, however, that all of them were totally empty. Not a single character was written in the white pages.

"What the heck is this place?” wondered the boy.

He complained at the librarian, but the woman just shrugged and smiled again.

“I’m getting tired of this,” he said. “We only want to leave! Can’t you just open the door?”

“That is not how it works,” explained she.

“Ok... Is there any other way out of here?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?!”

“For those kind of questions, you’ll have to ask the Master Librarian.”

She pointed at the other edge of the room, beyond the shelves, at some stairs which ascended to the second floor of the library, where there was nothing but an office, with windows made of black glass.

“That wasn’t there before!” exclaimed Pinkie.

“I know,” said Ryan. “Apparently, everything in this place has the nasty habit of popping in and out of existence when they feel like to. But if he can help us find other way out, we’ll ask him.”

“Are you sure? What if we just wait here for a while, until your inspiration comes back?”

Ryan took a deep breath of air.

“It won’t come back, Pinkie. Never,” he said.

And so, with Ryan holding a huge book of several hundreds of pages in his hands, to use it as a weapon in case they were attacked by the Taunt in their way to the stairs; the two of them abandoned the safe place around the entrance and dived in the sea of shelves.

Fortunately, once again, nothing happened. They reached the stairs safely, to the point that Pinkie was bouncing and talking loudly again, and Ryan didn’t say anything. He was starting to think that maybe the Taunt hadn’t been able to suffocate the pink flames, and that it had burned to death. That would make things a lot easier.

“Why would anypony use these ugly black windows?” asked Pinkie, putting her face in the glass. “I can’t see what’s inside! Oh, but I can see my reflection, he, he...”

And she started to make funny faces in the dark mirrors.

Ryan looked them, too, but he jumped back when he saw his reflection. The Ryan at the other side of the mirror had no eyes, just black empty holes, staring at him with an expression of terrible pain.

“Are you ok?”, asked the pony.

“Do... do you see that?”

“What? It’s only your reflection.”

“Really? Don’t you see anything wrong with it?”

Pinkie shook her head. Ryan approached the black windows, face to face with his nightmarish double. Only he could see it, apparently. The young man discovered that the mouth of his reflection was hollow, too, with no teeth, nor tongue.

Hollow, just how he felt down there, with the pen on his hand...

“Let’s get over with this,” he mumbled.

The door of the office wasn’t closed, but Ryan waited a bit before opening it, since it had a small note taped. He picked it, and recognized the same red writing he had seen in the white room:

You’ve given up too quickly, Ryan, now there’s no turning back.

Running away is an option no more. You’ll have to fight him, you’ll have to stop him.

Be always with Pinkie. She’ll protect you.

“What’s that?” asked the mare, bounding around Ryan, trying to read the note. “What’s that? What’s that?”

“Nothing,” was the only answer of the boy, as he introduced the paper in his pocket.

He was fed up with that dream, with the nonsense, and with the anonymous notes. He wanted to end it all and return to the real world, although he would miss Pinkie.

Ryan opened the door, and they entered in the office. The room was in complete darkness, with the exception of a table in the center, right under a weak column of light. The boy approached it, while Pinkie bounced in the shadows, searching for a switch, or a lantern, or something.

In the table, there was a gray folder, with documents inside. Ryan took them, and started to read. It wasn’t easy, most of them had been ruined, burned, and only a few words were still readable:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door can be found inside the minds of the humans, inside any mind. With the adequate conditions and ............................... the door will open. ..................................

...................................................... I, the Master Librarian ............................... have found the door ..................................... the Taunt is its guardian ........................

.............................................................................................

Once a god dies, a devil enters ...............................................

...........................................................................................................................................

.........................................................................................................................................

God = creator

Creator = god, in the universe of his mind ................................................

...............................................................................................

Desánimo, Lord of Despair, Killer of Hope, He For Whom All Empty Tears Will Be Shed .................................................. he will come through the doo................ the Taunt is his servant, so am I ................................

...................................................................................................................................

..................................................................................

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The walls are covered with papers!” said Pinkie, from the shadows, while still searching. “Come on, there has to be a candle around here...”

Ryan kept reading the burned documents, although all of them were nearly identical, filled with nonsenses about some door, and someone or something named Desánimo. No useful information about how to abandon that library.

The last sheet of the folder was different, though. In perfect state, made with a different type of paper, and written by hand, with a blue pen:

Hello, Ryan.

If you’re reading this, that means that you weren’t able to get out from here. Good. I worked really hard preparing the grand finale, and I wouldn’t like you to ruin it by fleeing like a cockroach.

If you’ve already met the Taunt, I apologize for its rude behaviour. I told it that I needed you alive, but I didn’t specified that I needed you intact. Well, it doesn’t matter, the result will be the same.

Everything will be over soon, Ryan. The end of the path you started walking three weeks ago is near. Don’t think about running away, don’t think about changing direction, don’t think about fighting back, it’s all useless.

There is no hope left for you, Ryan. You’ve dived too deep in this black sea, and now you can’t go up.

But don’t worry, you can still be useful for something. I need two sacrifices, after all. I will be the first, the one which will allow Desánimo to enter here, in this little limbo. You, the second sacrifice, will allow him to enter in our world, which will become one with the Despair Dimension. The sun will never shine again, the birds will stop singing, there will be no more happiness... it’s going to be beautiful.

We’ll see each other soon.

Your friend, the Master Librarian.

And, under the last blue paragraph, a small note written in red:

He has gone crazy. For the love of God, Ryan, you have to STOP HIM!

“I can’t find anything to turn on the lights,” said Pinkie, approaching the table.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ryan, putting the documents back in the folder. “I don’t think we’re going to get any help here. We should go back to the entrance. I guess I can try to write something, maybe...”

Then, the lights came on in the whole office, revealing that, just like Pinkie Pie had commented, the walls and windows were completely covered by papers, notes of different size, but all of them perfectly readable from any distance, since their messagges were written in capital letters, big and black.

“Let’s go, then!” said Pinkie, ignoring what had just happenned.

However, Ryan was paralyzed, suddenly looking smaller, weaker. His eyes were staring at all the messagges in the walls.

“What happens?” asked the pony. “Come on!”

Ryan just crouched, hugging his own legs, with the head down. Pinkie Pie looked at all the papers, and the words written in them:

     YOU’VE FAILED RYAN, YOU ALWAYS FAIL.                YOU’RE A LOSER.

YOU SUCK.    RYAN, YOU ARE WORTHLESS         FAILURE

   I HATE YOU       YOUR WORK IS GARBAGE, RYAN         USELESS

        YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING RIGH          ALWAYS A FAILURE, RYAN

       YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING GOOD               NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU

YOU SHOULD GIVE UP        GIVE UP, RYAN

And many more, all through the walls of the officce.

Ryan had been reduced to a shadow of his former self, curled near the table, trembling, with his face hidden behind his knees.

“Who would write such nasty things?” asked Pinkie. “Come on, Ryan, let’s get out of here. I don’t like this place.”

But the young man didn’t move an inch.

“Hey, stand up!” insisted Pinkie, grabbing him for an arm. “What are you doing? Didn’t you wanted to return to the entrance? Why are you so pale so suddenly?”, then, she realized: “Is it because of those notes? Ignore them!”

Ryan didn’t answer. The pink mare started to rip off the papers from the walls, stomping on them. After that, she approached the boy and put a friendly hoof on his shoulder.

“Hey, cheer up!” she smiled. “Remember what you said! We’ll go back to the entrance, and you’ll write something to get us out of here!”

“I can’t...” mumbled he.

“Yes, you can!”

“No!” Ryan grabbed his head. “I can’t! I haven’t been able to write anything in three weeks, and I won’t be able to do it ever again!”

“Why not?”

“Because I will fail, I know! Nobody will like it, it will be garbage! I’m not a real writer, I’ve been lying to myself all my life! I can’t... I just can’t... I will fail, and it will hurt me...”

He stopped talking, and started to sob.

“Come on, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” said Pinkie, trying to cheer him up.

Ryan didn’t answer.

“You have to be more positive! I understand being worried that some people may not like your work, but you can’t stop writing just for that, if you love it so much. Look at me! Not everypony likes my parties, but I don’t think about it. And that doesn’t mean that my parties are bad. After all, many other ponies do like them! You can’t please absolutely everypony, but that’s ok, it’s normal. And, if somepony doesn’t like my parties, I’ll try again and again, always improving, until I throw the best party ever!”

Pinkie ended her monologue with a huge smile, hoping for Ryan give her another one, but the boy just raised his head, slowly, and looked at the pony with rage in his wet eyes.

“What do you know about it?” he asked, with a bitter voice. “You’re not even real, just a product of my subconscious.”

The smile of the pink pony faded away.

“Hey, come on...” she said. “That’s not a nice thing to say...”

“I’m tired of all this!” Ryan started to hit his head with the fists. “I want to wake up, I want to wake up! I want this dream to end! I don’t care anymore about the notes, and about this stupid library! I don’t even care about ponies! Just let me wake up!”

“Calm down, you’re scaring me...”

“Go away! Leave me alone! You and everything else this dream has spawned! The Taunt, the Master Librarian, the grim reflections, whoever leaves those red notes, and you; I don’t care! Go away!”

Ryan ended his outburst of rage, and through his tears and all his fury, he saw the heartbreaking image of Pinkie Pie crying. Not with fountains of tears, like she had done several times in the show, but in a more realistic way, with small salty rivers running down her cheeks, coming from two watery eyes. That made it even more heartbreaking.

Before Ryan could say anything more, the pony ran away, leaving him alone in the office. Second passed slowly in silence, and the boy stood up, realizing what had just happened. He had made Pinkie Pie cry. Maybe she was just a product of his dream, but she was still Pinkie Pie, and he had made her cry. He hated himself.

“Pinkie...” he said, coming out of the office. “Pinkie, I’m sorry. Please, come ba... oh...”

Outside of the room, the whole library had suffered a transformation. The shelves had become taller and darker, twisting themselves and fusing with each other, creating long corridors which intersected with other corridors, in a geometrical chaos.

The library had turned into a labyrinth.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 Estimated time remaining: 18 Minutes