One week had passed since that tragic night Scribble got left abandoned at the café in cold freezing rain. It had been a week he would rather forget. Being sick and having to confess certain aspects of one’s life was not fun. But today Scribble Script had a chance to escape his turmoil if only briefly.

“Okay Sketch ya got everything covered for this arvo mate?” Scribble asked, saddle bags loaded and ready. To Sketch’s curiosity Scribble had packed a black bandanna, plastic pirate sword, a toy parrot and several poster size pictures of pirate ships Sketch himself drew.

“What’s youze goin’ ta be raidin’ an’ pillagin’ da nearest jewel shop now Scribble?” Sketch asked, trying to stop himself from laughing like a hyena.

Red replaced cream on Scribble’s embarrassed face. He drew circles on the wooden floor while searching for the perfect excuse. “Nope, today is orphan day mate.” Scribble cleared his throat while he pulled out and put on an eye patch from his saddle bag. “Yaarr, today the colts and fillies are sailing far buried plunder. Ya got e problem with that, ya whata savvy?” done with his best pirate voice, which surprisingly was really good.

“Dat…… Dat is well… Not bad,” complemented a shocked Sketch. He put a hoof over his muzzle in an attempt to stop the laughing that was about to pour out like a raging inferno. “But, dat patch makez youze look ridiculous.” Not able to contain his laughter anymore Sketch broke out all over the floor behind the counter.

“Huh!” Scribble blurted out with excitement, pointing a hoof at his laughing friend. “See the foals will love it! If ya think it funny, then they will be on full sugar overload for it! Woot!” he cheered full of excitement while making a beeline for the door.

Upon hearing the store’s front bell Sketch popped his head back above the counter to look. ‘Sommat ‘bout that pony will neva change.’

Scribble took a deep breath eyeing off his target, the Manehattan orphanage. A nice little building with a city block of its own sporting nice gardens several buildings and an arched overhanging wooden fence you trotted under to enter the facility.

‘It’s a nice arvo for some great pirate adventures. The little foals going ta love this so much.’ He was acting like an excited little colt, jumping up and down on the spot squeezing to himself before bolting into the main building.

The front doors to the reception area swung open as Scribble charged in making a grand and to the receptionist behind the counter shocking entrance. Stunned and scared the mare behind the counter dropped her pen and jaw at a cream dust cloud that suddenly appeared in front of her. She struggled to say her normal rehearsed welcome line. “Hello sir can…”

Scribble had cut her off using his somewhat baffling mystic powers. “Help you. Yes ya can. I’m here for my weekly visit to read the foals an’ exciting tale of mystery an’ adventure,” he stated, full of childish excitement ending it with a pirate ‘yyyaaarrr’.

The receptionist rolled her eyes at Scribble and his childish remarks. She pointed a hoof down the corridor that lead into a big open room. “Sure just…”

Again cut off by Scribble as he bobbed up and down unable to wait patiently. “Go down the hallway an’ wait in that room for the foals! Sure no problem mate!” he announced, a little to loudly making the mare behind the desk cover her ears. With a cloud of creamy dust replacing where he stood just a second ago Scribble was gone quickly as he came.

The mare behind the counter rolled her eyes. ‘One of these days I must figure out how he can finish my sentences like that.’ She got up and trotted down another corridor to fetch the foals playing outside.

Entering the big room Scribble got to work prepping for his big adventure. He closed the curtains to darken the room, dawned his pirate costume, eye patch and fake parrot, then pulled a seat in to the middle of the room. He hoofed out two posters and put them on the table behind his seat. ‘Must remember to thank Sketch again for these amazing drawings. To think he whipped both them up in ten minutes.’

The hallway began to rumble, loud echoing screams came from behind the double doors. Scribble’s attention drawn to the double doors, he jumped up on the table and got his pose ready. ‘Show time pirate captain,’ he thought, giving himself a little giggle.

The doors burst open with a loud ‘BANG’, hitting the back walls from the pressure the foals put on them to open as they burst in cheering and yelling. ‘Story time, story time’ they all cried out encircling Scribble and his island table.

“Yyyaaarrr! Ye scurvy sea ponies be ready for me tale of adventure an’ treasure this week hey!?” Scribble yyyaaarrred at the audience waving his fake sword around.

The crowd of foals and a couple of mares all cheered. ‘Whoa, even the staff want to sample my story this time. Well I best not disappoint them.’ Scribble pulled his hat down a little and jumped into his seat. “Yyyaaarrr, well I be Captain Tickle Torture! The funniest pirate on these here seven seas!” Pounding his chest with a forehoof Scribble looked like a proud warrior. “An’ this here be me first mate, Paulie,” the pirate grinned, pointing a hoof to the fake parrot puppet sitting on his shoulder.

“Funny, ya aren’t funny. I’m the one with all the jokes and one liners ya scallywag,” the parrot chirped, making a fool of the pirate captain to which all the foals started to laugh.

“I we have ya know I the most feared thing on these seas since sliced bread. Ya are only the parrot because I think having a parrot on me shoulder looks cool ya cracker eating bird brain!” Tickle Torture insulted with a smirk, acting like victory was his.

The parrot squawked in protest. “Oh ya bucko!? The only reason ya called Tickle Torture is because I do all the tickling! Who ya think supplies all the feathers around here, dumb flank!”

The foals in the audience were all having a hard time containing themselves with laughter with Scribble’s antics, and the fact he was arguing with himself in two different voices. One acted for the pirate the other for the fake parrot on his shoulder.

“Don’t ya be getting all cocky with me Paulie! Remember this feather for brains, I be ye one who does all the actual tickling. Ya lucky ya can supply the feathers, otherwise ya be nothing but a pillow feather supplier!” he protested, taking control of the argument.

“Ah! Ya say that now, but don’t forget who’s got the map,” Paulie whistled, with a cheeky grin.

Tickle Torture reached behind his back onto the table and grabbed nothing. “Yyyaaarrr, I got it ya dumb bird!” he declared, as his hoof came back around and showcased nothing.

The Captain stood there with his eyes shut and his chest pumped out full of pride, electing a few cheeky snickers from the foals. He slowly opened his eyes to inquire about the laughing. “What ye all laughing at! Huh!?” Captain Tickle Torture asked, eyeing down the foals with a snarly smile.

The parrot chirped up. “Take a look what’s in your hoof.”

“Yyyaaarr, the map of cour…” He cut himself short as the smirk pirate noticed no map in his hoof.

“Some days I wondered who voted you the captain,” squawked the cheeky parrot. Making more laughter come as some of the foals were rolled on their backs with so much laughter. The mood in the hall was cheerful bliss and fun. Even the mares that cared for the orphans could not contain themselves.

“Yyyaaarrr, this not be up for a vote you squawking pile of feathers!” the pirate yelled, jumping up onto the table. He pulled up a poster of the pirate ship and let it learn against his flank. “I be the one who owns this here pirate ship, so what I say goes, got that ye bunch o’ land lovers!” Tickle Torture accused, with hoof pointed at the laughing foals.

“Ya, land lovers, says the pony with no wings,” squawked the sarcastic parrot.

This elected a snarling stare from the captain who pulled up another poster this time of a treasure map.

The front door bell to the book shop rang with a stallion trotting into the establishment. A tall standing white stallion with maroon red mane eyed of Sketch behind the counter.

Hearing the bell drew Sketch’s attention. The busy artist stopped his cleaning and polishing of the counter and eyed the stallion sporting a house for a cutie mark. “Ey, how cans I helps youze ta-day?” he casually asked, with his normal charming demeanour.

“Yes, hello good sir. You wouldn’t happen to be Scribble Script would you?” the gentlecolt inquired.

“Nah. Sorry but, da writer youze looking fo’ wills not be in till tomorrow, sorry,” Sketch said, looking the big white stallion up and down.

“Okay than, thank you good sir. Please tell him that Grand Estate came by calling, and will do so tomorrow. Good day.” Tipping his hat he turned and trotted out of the shop, leaving Sketch confused.

Scribble trotted through Trot About Creek, on this really hot and muggy day. The town was not the biggest in Equestria but it was enough for the locals who lived there. Big wooden buildings with corrugated iron roofs dotted the street on either side. The hot sunny summer afternoon scorched all those who dared outside of any cover. The town was abuzz with life despite the hot heat and high humidity. Scribble had a shopping list, seemed his mother insisted he do the shopping for dinner tonight. So here he was just outside the celery stand. “Um, I will have…” His jaw went agape as he stopped talking when the mare in front of him disappeared like some cheap magic act.

“What the heck!” he screamed. Scribble looked around the town as one by one other ponies popped out of existence, triggered when ever he looked their way. Confused and worried Scribble dropped his saddle bags of food and made a frantic run for home.

No matter what he did everypony around town vanished driving the him crazy. “No, no, no! This can’t happen! Why is this happening!? Just stop it already!” he yelled, to nopony in particular. Scribble came to a screeching halt right smack bang in front of the big town clock in the center of Trot About Creek. Scared beyond belief he eyed the clock that was just about to strike four in the afternoon.’ ‘DING’, the clock rang its big loud bells. The whole town started to flicker from colour to that of a black and white film. ‘DING’, the second strike sent shivers up Scribble’s spine, again the whole town flickered. ‘DING’. “No, this can’t be happening! Why does everything always disappear!?” he demanded to know. The clock seemed to slow time itself the last ding on the bells took way longer to activate than the first three chimes. ‘DING’, the whole town was now deserted deprived of any life the used to populate the outback slice of heaven. Scribble finally managed to open his eyes after crying a little. What he saw was straight out of a nightmare. The black and white piece of heaven was a ghost town, all the buildings looked centuries old and in ruins. The only sound was that of the howling wind through the abandoned streets.

A miserable Scribble picked himself up and just galloped for it. He refused to stop until he made it home to Shimmer Shine Ranch. Hurls and cries of pain could be heard around the town as he made for his destination. Echoes in the dark corners called his name. The howling winds strengthened making it harder to run southward home, but struggle through he did.

Finally at home Scribble pushed open the gates and bolted for the family home. He slowly opened the front door to the farm house fearing the worst of what could be on the other side. Not failing to impress his thoughts were right on the money. Scribble peered into the living room to see the remains of his father Blazing Cane on the sofa. The undead head moved to face him, slowly turning into dust as it did. “All alone now son,” the skull grinned, while laughing maniacally before falling to the ground in a pile of dust.

Scribble let out a huge scared ‘AAAAAHHHHH’, one straight from the heart. His deepest fear was right in front of him with a reaction to fit the scenario. “I have to get the buck out of this joint!” he yelled, his hooves acting of their own accord bolting out of the house into a big black world of nothingness.

The steady pacing of beeps stirred the sleeping victim in his bed. He slowly opened his eyes to investigate what could have waked him. The roof was plain white, the walls a misty green, a door on one side and a window looking out over a nice garden on the other. Scribble in an attempt to get out of bed to further investigate why he was in a strange room was stopped by sheer pain spreading all over his body. He couldn’t move a muscle without his body groaning in protest.

The sound of Scribble groaning in agonising pain awoke Sketch who was asleep on a seat next to the bed. He looked up to see his friend’s eyes were open and looking a bit confused. “Ey Scribble ‘bout time youze woke up youze big sleepy head,” Sketch snickered.

Scribble tried turning to address his friend seated just below the window. “Err what the buck happened to me?” he groaned, still with pain from head to hoof.

“Youze tellz me. Youze da one who fell off da table in da orphanage,” Sketch informed, concerned for his friend. He got out of his seat and came to Scribble’s bed side. “Besides, dat not even da half o’ it Scribble.” With hoof pointed to Scribble’s left forehoof.

Scribble managed with some more pain to turn his head and notice his left forehoof was in a cast. “Oh great, what else could possibly go wrong in my useless life?” Scribble rhetorically asked.

The door to the room opened while Scribble was still eyeing off his cast and in trotted a very cute mare and a few fillies. “Well good morning, Scribble. Seems like you finally came round. It’s wonderful to finally see your eyes open.” She smiled while letting the fillies come into the room with gifts in tow.

“Hey, Happy Bliss. What ya doin’ here?…Matter of fact, what am I doin’ here?” Scribble asked looking around the room again, finally putting two and two together to discover he was in a hospital.

“Well after you fell off the table while telling your pirate story, you was out cold. But I must say it was a very dramatic fall,” she snickered, at the his expense. “You just spaced out after you got to the part of the story where the parrot marooned you on a small island all alone while he took your ship and sailed away. After that you just fainted and fell off the table breaking your hoof in the process,” she stated, pointing out the hoof in the cast.

“Must o’ been anotha nightmare again, youze need ta tellz me what is goin’ on Scribble.” Sketch used his telekinesis to pour Scribble a glass of water and brought it up for him to sip.

“Nightmares?” the foal carer voiced out of concern, as she helped the fillies put a get well card and present on the table next to Scribble.

“Ya last time he was out fo’ two days. Iffa ask me Scribble youze should talk ta somepony ‘bout it,” Sketch said, giving him a stern look.

Bliss was nor a little concerned if Scribble should read to the foals again while in this kind of state. “Oh my, that seems bad.”

Scribble’s whole body was in pain, the slightest movement sent shockwaves all over his body. He forced himself to endure it in order to acquire the information he needed. “Just how long was I out for this time?”

“Four days dis time, buddy.”

“Wow really?” Scribble asked, wondering if he still was in a dream or not.

“Afraid so, we really needz ta do summat befo’ youze get inta any permanent coma.”

The door opened again bringing to an end any topic of conversation over Scribble’s nightmares. A yellow mare with rose red hair trotted into the room. “Oh Scribble, youze finally awake. Dats good, now we can finally see some results an’ treat youze properly,” the Unicorn doctor said with a cheerful demeanour.

“Well it’s good to see you Scribble. That present from all of us at the orphanage, we hope once you better you will come tell us more stories. All the foals will miss your weekly visits while you recover,” Bliss said, leading the other fillies out of the room with all of them giving a friendly wave good bye.

The three ponies left in the room waved Happy Bliss out as she made for the door, we’ll those able to move did. The doctor turned to Scribble and made her way to the right side of Scribble’s bed. “Okay Scribble, I’m doctor Pulse. I needz ta do a few tests ta check youze recovery so far,” Pulse uttered in a way to cheerful demeanour than the room was set for.

“But I can hardly move without anything hurting,” Scribble groaned.

“Sorry, youze will jus’ have ta tough it out. Besides, I have a nice lolly pop fo’ da big stallion when we done,” She grinned teasingly. This made Sketch burst out in laughter as the doctor started her tests on the helpless and annoyed victim.

Scribble cried out in pain as the doctor took his pulse, temperature, made him stick out his tongue and heartbeat. “Ah come on Scribble, youze made o’ tougher stuff than this?” Sketch laughed, rolling on the floor unable to stop. “O’ I will not let youze live dis one down fo’ a long time, MATE!” Sketch mockingly stated, putting on his best outback voice impersonation.

“Okay, okay youze. Scribble will needz da help o’ some good friends after dis. As youze told me youze think it is da nightmares he is havin’ dat causes dis,” she said, forcing Sketch to stop laughing and pay attention.

“Ya Sketch, ya have to stop laughing now mate,” Scribble demanded managing a grin to shut Sketch up.

An evil smile came over Sketch’s face as he slowly trotted over to look Scribble in the eye. The scared patient gulped as to what could be going through his evil mind. Sketch invaded Scribble’s personal space before delivering his message of doom with an evil snicker. “Okay Scribble, I willz promise ta stop laughin’ iffa afta’ youze get betta youze promise ta spill da beans. All o’ dem an’ not leave anythin’ out as ta what makin’ youze have so many nightmares, okay?”

Scribble despite the pain shook his head in protest. Sketch let out an annoyed groan. “Ey doc, think I can give him dat yucky medicine?”

Pulse caught on quickly to what Sketch was doing and played along. “Sure, I can arrange dat fo’ youze.”

Outnumbered two to one Scribble was starting to sweat with the doctor closing in from one side and the evil artist from the other. “Okay, okay I promise Sketch. Ya win, ya win. Just get that medicine away from me,” he howled out in desperation.

Both the doctor and his friend let out cheeky grins. “I never said youze actually had ta take any medicine,” she smiled, with a side order of snickering.

“Sketch I will end ya…OUCH!”

“Ya youze an’ what able body?” asked Sketch, snickering with victory.

Pulse put back on her smiley face and took out her pen writing down a few things. “Well, Scribble will have ta stay heeya anotha night ta let his aches an’ pains clear up. Afta’ dat his cast will only needz ta stay on a week. Lucky fo’ him he only sprained his hoof not broke it. Youze should be able ta walk on it properly in a week or two,” Pulse informed, eyeing off Scribble to make sure he would comply.

“O don’t worries doc, I will make sure dat da patient does as told,” Sketch snickered, with evil intent eyeing his victim.

‘I’m doomed.’