Something of an Artistic Roadblock (Open!)

The pony outside of Mr.Sohoofcles (the old drama instructor's) classroom was, very apparently, having a hard time.

Slyph Gongjiang was curled in a fetal position upright against the wall besides the door to the studio space of the theater department of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. The hallway was mostly quiet, as class was in session. He cradled himself in his hooves as the young unicorn whispered a litany of worrisome assurances on the proximity of his own death.

Even with his cerulean fur, his gaunt face was a shade darker as tears stained and blush deepened the color of his cheeks. The unicorn released his death grip on himself and held his hooves over his face.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM."

Even muffled by his hooves, his anguished cry reverberated through the hall. Immediately he looked up to the small window through the door into the classroom: There stood the renown professor of drama and the other students, undisturbed by his scream as they continued with class. A class he should be in right now.

"I hate theater I've never liked theater I can't do theater." Slyph's epistrophe had little effect on his current predicament: he was living on borrowed time.

Of course, here 'living on borrowed time' is something of a hyperbole. He was in no immediate bodily danger. And the likelihood of him dying was slim. But in the mind of this imperiled pre-pubescent pony, the simple monologue he had to perform for a grade felt like it was the end of the world.

And unless SOMEPONY SOMEWHERE SOMEHOW would help him...

Well, you'll just have to be that somepony, somewhere, somehow... Won't you?