I do not own "My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic". Please give me feedback on this. Any ideas or ways to improve would be great. This is my first fanfic of anything ever, so any suggestions or tips would help. Couldn't use computer, so sentence layout may be incorrect.
There is no evil, there is no good, there is only the great torment of darkness and the purity of light. Many do not know of this, and many have been consumed by darkness, because they believed they were good, but there is no good, nor evil, only light and dark. However, in all light there is darkness, and in all darkness there is light. Even those who are filled with darkness may be seen as "good" by all, save those who know of which is light and dark, and they know their good is only a piece of light in their overwhelming darkness. This way of thinking can go both ways though, so it is impossible to say someone is "good "or "bad", because these terms simply do not exist. Such is the way of the universe, which knows no bounds, not even the tormenting darkness can destroy all light, for within that torment is always a sliver of purity and nor can purity drive out all torment.
Unless...
He laid freezing on the leaves of the forest floor on a winter night, which was so dark, he couldn't see anything, not even himself. "Why do I have to suffer like a pitiful old foal," he pondered as he tried to catch even a wink of sleep. He lay still, utterly motionless, listening to the sounds of those in the shadows, to forget the bitter cold. As soon as his eyes began to close, he saw the flicker of a flame in the distance. Soon, all his mind could do was focus on it, because a fire meant warmth. However he though of this: "What if I am seen? I've never been seen before." He didn't even know how he knew how to speak, all he could remember of his past was-
Suddenly, a voice spoke to him, "What are you doing in the dark, of a fire I do not see a spark."
Slowly he got up and looked at the one whom the voice belonged and with his long unused voice said, "I have nothing to light a fire with. Perhaps you can spare me a match, I may die of cold soon." He could tell by looking at her she was not of his species, but he had nothing against her, for she seemed friendly enough.
She then said, "Please, come to my humble abode, for there you won't catch a cold." She turned around heading down a path. He assumed she was honest and didn't plan to deceive him, so he trudged along behind her.
Finally, they arrived at her hut in the forest. Already, he could feel the heat radiating from the her small shelter, a defiance to the forest's naturally evil ways. When she opened the door, he could see into it, finding she had very cultural place. Hanging everywhere were potions, tonics, herbs, masks, and other unique items he had never seen, nor heard of before. However with her being the first he had communicated with, he did not know this to be odd, so he didn't bother to question it. Being deep in thought, he flinched when she spoke, "I hope you don't mind a stew, for that is what I brew."
He responded with mumbling out, "I give you my gratitude for whatever you can spare." He found it quite peculiar that everything she said rhymed, but, yet again, he did not question her behavior. She gave him a bowl of fresh stew, which ate quickly, curing his hunger.
Then, she spoke, "What is your name sir? For I believe you will be quite the stir. The kind that is out-of-place, do you catch my pace?"
Again she had rhymed, but he replied with, "Reign." He had not told the full truth, but if he did, what might she do to him? He doubted she would attack, but, most certainly she would send him away, likely in a quite rude manner, at the very least.
She herself said, "My name is Zecora, as you can see I practice many an aura. Please, take my bed I'll take the floor instead."
He hastily thanked her for her kindness being eager to sleep and set the bowl down. When he got into the bed, he fell asleep before he could even say goodnight.
Reign's eyes wearily opened to reveal that the sun had risen. Immediately he wanted to continue to sleep, but he knew he had to get up. "Besides",he thought, "I've slept long enough and I'm not tired." So he slowly crept out of the warm, soft bed and his nostrils filled with the aroma of the various herbs Zecora had collected. He wondered about each of their properties and he nearly tasted one, however, he thought better of it, "It might be poisonous," he supposed. His stomach seemed to still be filled by the stew, so he did not bother to search for food. Instead, he decided to go outside, because Zecora was nowhere in sight. A long, mangled, ragged, and outright the most unkept silver-gray mane in existence. This lay heaved upon his unbathed black coat which was as dark as a night without the moon or stars. Eyes, they were an emerald color with a darkened tint, living in the dark forest for years had begun to transform the pupils from spheres to cat-like slits. At first, he thought it was a window he was looking through, but no, it was him. Not for an uncountable span of time had he seen his own reflection. His appearance seemed to make him appear as if he was one of the creatures who lurked in this forbidden forest.