Inb4 someone screams “Oh god there’s a fanfic on DH!”
I know someone is going to pull a “the horror, the horror” since we’ve always said that we would never do Fanfics here on DH (namely because that’s EqD’s thing), but this will be only the 3rd ever to appear in our posts, and for good reasons.
Many of the newer fans seem to mistake Derpy Hooves’ occupation comes from her scene in Feeling Pinkie Keen, as she is unloading a delivery truck (and attempting to kill Twilight). But that is wrong, she got her job through a short story written by early fan member Manefag, dubbed Bright Eyes. I wouldn’t call it so much a fanfic, just one of those quick stories that use to get posted on /co/ all the time in the earlier days. (Yes, I know there are still some, but it use to be a nightly event). This story was written shortly after 10/25/10.
So for your late night reading pleasures.
“Bright Eyes” by Manefag
In my dreams, I fly.
There’s no ground, no trees, no serious cloud cover…just thermals, breezes, gales, and all the different weather I could ever want to play around in. No jobs to do, no appointments to meet, no chance that if I close my eyes I’ll accidentally run into something. Just endless sky, and my wings to carry me through it.
As sun peeks through my curtains, I drift awake, bit by bit. A comfortable-looking bank of clouds invites, and I settle in it, before rubbing back against it and letting my eyes slide open.
It’s only just after sunrise, so I can appreciate the splashes of yellow and orange, the swiftly-shortening shadows, and not resent the sun too much for beginning to dissolve my cloud-room into morning mist. With a yawn, I rise to all fours, fold my blanket, and tuck it into my saddlebag, one of two. The other is for business only.
As the comforting cool of my quick shelter dissolves, I head for the post office, backwinging slowly to a stop. The comforting smell of coffee and hot chocolate wafts from within, and I trot in with a smile.
“Morning, Bright Eyes.” Stamp’s already there; sorting the modest piles of mail headed in and out of Ponyville. He’s probably been up for hours; his dedication to the mail is admirable. “Coffee’s on. Mixed a little cocoa into it for you.”
I nod, and trot evenly over to the counter, smiling at the straw. Stamp has finished piling the letters, and only now does he join me, taking his coffee with a single lump of sugar.
As I drink, he details the mail.
“Nothing particularly difficult. Cinnimane has a package; there’s a catalog for the Cakes, and a directory of cloth swatches for Rarity. The rest is all regular mail.”
As I finish my drink, he tucks the mail into my saddlebags, balancing both sides to ensure I fly straight. Once both are buckled down, I gallop out the door and into the sky.
It’s easiest to start from the farthest outskirts of town and work my way in. If there’s new mail, it’s ready as soon as I get back, and I don’t need to backtrack.
The first stop, therefore, is Applejack and Big MacIntosh’s farm. Two letters, one of them regarding new varietals of apple, go on their doorstep, before I’m in the air again.
For the next hour, I hop from doorstep to doorstep, leaving mail in my wake. Rarity is there in person to accept the cloth swatches, tail still in its curler, and is at once delighted with new materiel, and furious at having been seen at all below perfect. I assure her I won’t tell anyone, and she is mollified.
At the Bakery, Mrs. Cake offers me a fresh macaroon, which I accept gratefully. Apparently Pinkie Pie is still asleep, which is something of a relief. A few doors down, Cinnimane’s package is left on her doorstep-apparently not a morning pony.
A brief hour after I left, I return to the Post Office.