Thirty Minute Pony Stories

I slipped into my bedroom and slammed the door behind me, all the curtains drawn and the candles unlit, clutching my leather book tightly.

I first became interested in magic when I read the incredible works of H. P. Hoofcraft. One of the most talented magicians in the world, he was capable of incredible feats of magic, and his books had thorough, in-depth studies and examinations of magical spells and techniques. He was my role model. I wanted to grow up to be like him.

Heh, and I actually thought I could do it, too. When I learned my first show-spells, ponies actually told me I was talented. I started showing them off—I learned spells specifically to dazzle audiences over practical function. That was when I had the idea to put together a magic show—I thought I could let my talents shine that way. That was until I encountered that purple unicorn in that hick town. I won’t go into that episode, but let’s just say I thought my magic was pretty good until I saw hers. Now my magic feels weak, and I feel next to worthless.

Hoofcraft died a few years later. Unexpectedly, too—he wasn’t that old, but he looked like a stallion in his sixties. There were rumors of one last book he’d written before his death, which contained his best magical spells and techniques. I clutched the leather-bound book even tighter. That book was mine now. This was how I was going to perform feats of incredible magic, and show that purple unicorn who is really the most Great and Powerful unicorn who has ever lived.

I won’t bore you with the story of how I got the book. But I will say that the pony who gave it to me warned me that the contents had been kept secret for a reason—they were very dangerous. When I opened the book, I saw immediately why. He had spells that claimed to do things I had been told were impossible since magic kindergarten, using magical techniques I’d never seen anything like. That didn’t deter me, however, in fact it excited me. If I could learn these, perhaps I could follow Hoofcraft after all.

I set my horn to the first technique on the list. The magic surged through me in an unfamiliar, uncomfortable way, like something crawling just below my skin. Then I felt a great blast of energy, and the universe felt just a little bit denser. I looked down to spot my creation: a speck of dust, barely visible.

Well, that wasn’t going to impress any audiences, I thought, but I was still giddy with excitement. A lot of showponies had tricks meant to look like conjuration, but they used tricks like teleporting the target in from an unseen place, or if they were really good, forming it out of surrounding matter. What I’d just done was something I’d always been told was impossible: I had created matter.

I turned back to the book. With a little practice, I could learn to conjure even bigger, more complex items… And from there, I could go on to the bigger spells, things that would truly demonstrate my power and greatness.

As I prepared to set out the next day, I looked in the mirror and noticed my fur looked thinner and more scraggly than yesterday, and my mane was developing a few white hairs. No problem, I thought—some make up will cover that right up.

Krizak Comments!

The Great and Powerful Trixie needs no eldritch being to offer her the power to defeat that infuriating unicorn in exchange for her soul! She’ll just slowly tear it apart with magic not meant for mortal ponies. I really liked the first-person perspective for Trixie here, show just how deluded the showmare is, just how much she doesn’t see… or refuses to see.