Thirty Minute Pony Stories

“Mares and gentlestallions, may I present the first act for tonight…”

~~~

The crowd was roaring in the distance, shaking the mirror even through brick and mortar.  The cracked glass danced in its frame, threatening to escape free, while the light bulbs lining it flickered in sympathy.  The mare did her best to ignore it, but it was hard to ignore when the glass in front of her shook in time to a hundred stamping hoofbeats.  Just thinking about the size of a crowd upstairs terrified her.  Her manager had told her that the venue was completely sold out, every over-priced seat and box filled with ponies eager for her opening act.

You’ve got this… you’ve practiced for this hundreds of times…

The thought did little to calm her nerves and neither did her visage in the mirror.  Her two-tone mane and tail were limp and un-styled, both holding an unpleasant greasy sheen in the dim light.  Her coat hadn’t been brushed yet, making her look like a common floozy off the street.  Her fine-boned face still lacked that touch of stage make-up that stood up to the bright lights and sweat off performing.  Worse of all were her violet eyes, what everypony said were her best feature.  They looked sunken and had tired bags underneath them, making her look like an old, worn down spinster.

Making her look like some nopony.

She closed her eyes against the sight, before leaning forward to rest her head against the class.  It felt cool to the touch and helped sooth her nerves, even if her growing headache still jumped in time to the glass’s shuddering beat.  Slowly her thoughts stilled themselves like the stage curtains just before the start of an act.

I can do this… I can do this…

The mantra was a familiar one to her.  They had carried her everyhoof step she had taken to get to the dingy basement she found herself in.  They had been with her from the very start.

It hadn’t been easy, running away from home at the age of eighteen.  It had hurt so very much and she knew it would hurt until the end of her days.  She wondered sometimes what her dad had done when he found out.  A part of her desperately wished that he had been desperate to find her, had spent countless days and bits he didn’t have to find her.  Another part of her heart hoped that he hadn’t looked for her at all.

If only you could see me now Dad…

Each day she wondered what he would have thought on seeing her.  The mare hoped he would have seen the young filly he loved grown strong and been proud of her as a parent only could be.  She feared that instead he would see only the spitting image of her mother.  Just thinking about that selfish unicorn brought her bile to her throat.  Her father had loved that mare, loved her more than words could describe.

She knew because she had asked him to explain his love to her once.  To this day, she still shuddered remembering the glassy, dead-eyed expression he had given her.  For days afterwards he had avoided her, coming home from work, making dinner, and then hiding himself in his room.  Each night she had heard him sobbing himself to sleep and each morning she awoke to find him already gone and breakfast awaiting her on the table of the shabby apartment they lived in.

———[Time limit]———

She had hated it.  She had hated that life.  She had hated her dad.  There was barely any food to eat, just enough to get by each week.  Her clothes were threadbare and worn, just enough to get by each season.  There was never enough affection for her, either from her dad or her distant teachers, just enough to get by each day.

Eyes still closed tight, headache still pounding in counterpoint to the crowd upstairs, the mare gave a bitter laugh.  Those words, ‘just enough…’, were what had seemingly dictated her life.  She had just enough passing grades to get out of high school.  She had just enough bits to purchase private lessons on magical showmanship from a washed-up has-been.  She was just pretty enough to have caught the eye of the sleazy stallion who was her manager.  She was sick of being just enough.

She had spent her whole life trying to escape from having just enough.  And this was her chance.  Her one chance to show the world her talent, to lose herself in the faceless adoration of the crowd, to be loved by countless ponies only because of her skill.  This was her one chance to be more than enough.

And she wasn’t going to let it slip by.

Her eyes opened.  Where they had once looked tired, they now burned with that familiar fire.  Leaning back, she gave herself a cocky grin and an indulgent wink.  Her spirits buoyed, her horn lit up with her magic.  The disparate objects on the vanity lit up before they buzzed around her like a swarm of attendants.  With minutes, the old her was gone.  Instead a proud unicorn, well-groomed and ready to perform, stood in front of the mirror.  She paused to inspect herself one last time.

She was thrilled at what she saw.  She was more than enough for the crowd upstairs, now, she knew it.  With a flourish of her cape, careful to keep her hat balanced atop her head, she raced upstairs to the waiting crowd and her future.

~~~

“…The Great and Powerful TRIXIE!”

Obs ses: Aha! Clever interpretation of “Breakout” there, in using it to refer to Trixie’s career. I am rather saddened to hear how Trixie’s life was before she became a showmare, and rather happy to see her successful in spite of what she’s had to go through.

And… now that I realize she eventually became what we see in the show, I’m suddenly saddened again. D:

But good work!