It was a pleasant evening. The air was crisp and the sun was hot. Lily, a waitress at the Pansy Pastry, was finishing up for the day when she came to clean up her last customer's table. She looked at the stallion with a mix of curiosity. He reminded her of someone. She stood thinking when he spoke up.

"Hello. That was a lovely meal. Thank you," he said with a brisk smile before returning to some papers he had on him. They appeared to be letters. He leafed through them and sighed when he came to one of them. "Why is it I always attract the strange people?" he asked to himself.

She was confused by his behaviour, but noticed something as she was cleaning his table. One of the papers had a name on it she was all too familiar with. Her heart bounced as she realised who the man she had served was. "Are you... R.S. Parchment?" she asked. He turned and gave her a smile.

"Yes, I am." he gave her a shy smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't do public book signings." he was about to return to the papers at hand when he glanced across the pavilion at a pair of young lovers, who were gently kissing. His smile faded and he averted his eyes, but something was troubling him. Lily could tell something was wrong.

"Is everything alright Mr. Parchment?" She asked him. He looked up at her with eyes of a deep dark brown.

Words played on his lips, but soon found themselves lacking a voice. He turned once again to the lovers who had caught his glance before returning his gaze to Lily. "Miss, may I ask you if you would like to hear a story?"

Lily was almost breathless. A story told to her by her favourite author? When would such chances happen? "Is it one of your stories like Horror Crest?" She asked.

"No no, this is a story that actually happened. Hold on I have something." He reached into a bag that was by his chair and pulled out several sheets of paper. He placed them face down. "I will give you one of these to read during breaks in my story. I hope you can understand the writing. The writer had a quite heavy horn." Lily laughed at his words, but nodded and said no words on the subject. "My story begins several years ago. There are two main characters, Silk and Marigold. Two young ponies that were taught a valuable lesson."

---

"Silk was walking through the cafeteria at his school like usual. He hardly said a word as he passed by the bullies. They never touched him, for fear of his size, but they always shouted out insults as he passed. He ignored them as he had done for years of his life and quite by chance he saw her. He stood there for a few seconds before the world caught up and he was knocked over by a group of younger students.

'Hey watch it lanky!' The boldest of them said to him. He barely had to even look at the boy to scare the wits out of him. Silk... had a reputation. He was quiet, tall, and he knew odd things. He knew about ancient tortures for instance and he knew strange medical facts about the body. People thought he was crazy for when he did speak; he spoke of only strange things. He told stories to himself during lectures and drew in his books during lunch. Nobody ever saw him eat a thing, but he must do, for nobody could be as big as he was on a small diet.

After the younger students had run away from him he took a seat at a table opposite Marigold. He didn't know why, but he wanted to talk to her. Something inside of him told him to speak and speak he did. 'Pardon me.' He said in a quiet voice, the kind of voice that you would expect of someone awed by a saint. Marigold looked around and saw him. She had heard of him by his reputation and was slightly scared, but she was gentle and wanted to know who he was.

'My name ith..is..is Silk.' He said to her. She giggled as he lisped.

'Hi, I'm Marigold.' she said in response. 'Is there something you wanted to say Silk?' She asked him. He went sheepish turned away. Marigold was caught quite off guard. She had expected someone more dangerous sounding and in appearance for such a reputation. She watched as he brought out his books and lifted a pencil to start drawing. 'What's that?' Marigold asked him after watching him draw for a while.

He half jumped when she spoke and accidently knocked his book to the ground. Marigold gasped at the picture she saw, it wasn't one of beauty, for Silk had no skill in drawing, but for what he lacked in skill he made up for in imagination. The picture was that of a strange world filled with creatures of all shapes and sizes. There were sponge like trees and vines entwining around them like thick rope. Creatures appeared to be gliding through the tall trees. As hard as she looked, she could not see the ground in the picture. Silk picked it up after a while and held it against his chest.

'It's something I'm working on.' He said to her. She smiled. Silk smiled. Soon after the bell rang and they had to leave for their classes, but that was just the start of the story. They sat together for every lunch after that and Silk told Marigold of his many stories and showed her much of his work."

---

"So what happened after?" Lily asked.

"Wait and I will tell you." He handed her the first sheet of the stack. It was a letter addressed to Marigold. She read it.

Dear Marigold.

I fell so full of life. You are the first person I have been able to share my stories with in so much depth. I feel that my many worlds are now free and no longer chained to me. I know this letter is short and not much, but I decided to give you the drawing you saw when we first met. You looked so happy staring at it.

Best wishes, Silk.

She was handed another sheet which was the picture. She stared at the old and worn page, but could still see every vine and tree that had been there the day Marigold had seen it.

---

"Soon school ended and they were unable to talk during lunch, but they kept in contact through the mail. Silk did his best to keep writing, but something was playing on his mind. He woke up one day and realised what it was. That day he was barely able to eat and help on his families' hay farm. He slipped a couple of times and earned himself a few new scars. By that evening, he was so tired and weary that only one thought played out. He said it to himself before he fell asleep. 'I love her...'

---

"A love story... so romantic..." Lily interrupted.

"Not quite. None of my stories are romances. They bore me stiff." The author retorted.

"But he just said..."

"Enough of that. Here read these as I continue my story." He handed her two sheets, both were letters.

---

"Silk got up the next day with a skip in his step and a beat in his heart. He was back at school for his final year, but something was different. As he walked into the place where he would always meet Marigold, she wasn't there. For a whole week he waited for her to appear before going and asking her other friends.

'What do you mean she's gone?' He asked.

'She's gone from school to help her aging mother. She said she won't come back.' Silk was devastated. During the next class he spent the whole period writing a letter that he could post on his way home. He rewrote it several times so that it would be perfect. His perfection cost him two days in detention.

Dear Marigold.

I heard you aren't returning to school. I didn't hear mention of this in your letters and was confused when you didn't show up. I guess it's just me trying to fall back into routine, but I guess since your mother's health is of concern I can't be opposed to not seeing you. I guess we can still talk through our letters and I hope this finds you and your mother in good health. I wrote a new story over the summer and was going to give it to you as a surprise. It's a romance which I know you like. Next time I see you I'll give it to you personally. It's too bulky to send through the mail and I don't want prying eyes to read it before you do.

Sincerely yours, Silk.

"He received a response much later than expected. A full two weeks after. He had thought his letter had got lost in the mail."

Dear Silk.

I'm sorry I haven't replied sooner, but my mother needs my care and support. I was sure in one of my letters I told you, if not I apologise. I don't think I'll be able to talk as we used to, though I would love to read your story. Thanks for asking about my mother, she's doing better at the time than usual.

Marigold.

"He spent the next few months working as hard as he could while writing letters to try and talk to her. He was rewarded with the few letters he did receive and they were short at that. Those months were hell for him and he slowly slipped back into his old ways. He stopped talking to people and resumed his solitary style. Then one evening he wrote one final letter in the hope that something wonderful might happen."

---

The old stallion lifted the last sheet and handed it to her. She took it hesitantly wondering what it might contain. Her eyes went wide as she read the neat letter.

Dear Marigold.

I've been trying to express what I fell in words for some time now. It's hard for me to describe how I feel as I have never felt like this before. You've always been someone to listen to my stories, but there has always been something else playing on the tip of my tongue that I have been trying to tell you. How can three simple words be so hard to say? I would think words like 'Impregnable' and 'Luminous' would be harder to say. Have you ever tried to express what your heart says loudest? It's almost impossible to define or explain.

What I am trying to say is the three words that have been trying to pin themselves down to the letters I send to you for months. I love you. It's as simple as that. I don't know when or how or why, but when I met you the only thing that I felt was joy. Something I felt very rarely before. Your smile brought light to my world. I don't know how it happened, but I love you and I always will. I don't know if you feel this way about me, but if you don't I will always be a friend and I will always have a story to tell.

Love, Silk.

Lily read the letter in silenced as Parchment watched her. She felt warmness come over her as she read it. "So what happened? Did she reply?" Lily asked, wanting to know more. "Were there anymore letters?"

"No, there were no more letters. In fact Silk and Marigold only talked again two years after that." He told her while shaking his head. "It was during her wedding. She was marrying an old friend who she had dated years before."

"But... didn't she love him?" Lily asked.

"Yes she did." He replied.

"But then why?"

"Take a look at the letter. It has all the answers." She lifted the letter up and read it again. After 5 minutes of just staring she shook he head.

"I don't know what it is you're trying to show me, but I'm not seeing it." She simply said. He sighed and tossed her an envelope.

"Try putting it in there." He told her.

She sighed and was about to fold the letter when she realised it had no creases. The realization of what this meant. "He never sent it." She said. The stallion nodded. He picked up the letters and papers that he had brought out of his bag and started putting them away. "Isn't there anymore to the story? What happened to Silk?"

He stopped. "Silk... Silk grew old. He never stopped writing, but he couldn't create anymore stories with such beauty as he once did, but his ability didn't die. He turned from writing stories about wonderful vibrant places to a much sadder tone. His stories grew dark in texture, but his characters were alive as ever. He changed. He even writes to this day."

"I've never heard of Silk before today, is he any good?" She asked.

"Good? Some consider him the best. You've probably read at least one of his stories without realising it. He spends a lot of time trying to enjoy what is left of his life. He learned too late in life a lesson he should have learned long ago and tries to teach others not to make his mistakes."

"I would know if..." She stopped. She turned to him and his eyes told her more than know. Her jaw fell as she began to put the last fifteen minutes of conversation. "You're Silk..." Her tone was soft as she said the two words.

"I am." Silk told her.

Lily couldn't believe the words "But your name..."

"My pen name. All I did was change the order of letters in my initials." He explained. He lifted his bag onto his back and gently took the letter he was holding. "I never sent it because I was too scared to. I didn't know what would happen. In the end when I was invited to her wedding I had long believed she had all but forgotten me. When I met her that day, she told me how she had felt and explained that she had once tried to write a letter explaining how she felt. She never had the courage to pucker up the truth, but she decided after I stopped sending letters that I must have forgotten about her and found something else to occupy myself.

I would have told her right then and there, but something told me no. Don't ruin this for her, for them. I kept my mouth shut and after the ceremony I handed her the story to read, the story I had promised her years ago. She smiled as she read it. But as she came onto the last page, she found an extra piece of paper I had forgotten I had tucked in there. It was the letter. She read it and looked at me. She and I knew she couldn't love me, she had given her heart to another man, we had both waited too long to tell each other. Her heart was given and mine had shrivelled. I took the letter and the story and left. We never spoke again after that."

He turned to Lily. "The moral is, try to get what you want. If you fail, appreciate what you have. There is no sense crying over what you could have had." He slipped the letter into his bag and pulled out a stack of papers. "Here, take these for me."

"What are they?" Lily asked as she was given the pages.

"A parting gift to a young listener. It's the last colourful story I ever wrote." He turned to leave. Then a thought struck home "You remind me of her in some ways."

Lily was flattered. She leafed through the first few pages. She looked up to see him almost gone. "Wait! Do you ever feel sad about it?" Lily asked wanting to know the end of the story.

Silk turned to her. "Sometimes, but I find it is best to remember the past and work towards the future. It took me a lifetime to figure that out." The old stallion smiled to her and left. Leaving Lily with the last piece of his old life. He looked once more at the young couple who had been in the same restaurant and then back at Lily who was reading his story. But sometimes... sometimes, maybe it's good to think about what might have been. He looked towards the setting sun and started walking. It was a long trek back to his house and he decided now was as good any time to think.