//------------------------------// // Stanza 2 // Story: Maud Slam // by Jarvy Jared //------------------------------// There were more than just ponies here. In the hush of purple bubble lights several minotaurs and hippogryphs sat, for the most part quiet. There were even some kirins, and if Fluttershy’s account of when she and Applejack went to their home was accurate, then this was not a surprise: more than a few missed rhyming, it seemed. Maud, Trixie, and Starlight chose a table in the middle row, where an orange candle had been lighted. A pamphlet was at each seat. Up at the front of the room was a wide wooden stage, with a dark red curtain and a microphone. “Quite a crowd,” Starlight murmured. “Are they all going to perform?” “No,” Maud said. “This place is called La Galería Sestina. The Six-Line Gallery. When they hold these kinds of events, they only allow six performers for the night.” “You being one of them, that leaves five more.” Starlight paused, casting a careful gaze over the other creatures there. “Is it just me, or does everycreature seem a bit… tense?” “Of course they’d be tense!” Trixie said. “They’re probably really nervous about the competition. Trixie supposes she can’t blame them; if you aren’t used to the stage as I am, you’d be tense, too!” Starlight ignored that bit of Trixie’s ego showing. “Competition? I thought this was, you know, a bunch of individual performances. Like an improv night, but with poetry.” “Nope! It’s a competition, and here’s the prize!” Trixie lit her horn and flipped a few pages into the pamphlet, stopping at the one that had a page-sized picture. A large, bronze quill sat glittering on display. The caption read: Quibble and Scribble Award - Given to poets whose writing invokes the essence of what it means to be a poet of the world. “Wow,” Starlight said. “You know, I bet Twilight wouldn’t mind having one of those—if she ever wrote anything other than reports. Though I’m surprised you want a chance at that, Maud. You never struck me as somepony who cares about awards.” Maud shrugged. “It seemed like a fun idea. Mudbriar said I should share some of what I write. And if I win, well… it’ll look nice in the cave, at least. If not…” She shrugged again. Starlight smiled at her. “If there’s anypony who has the talent to earn that quill, it’s definitely you, Maud!” “Is that right?” Maud’s smile, involuntary and secretive, slipped away at the new voice. She worked it into what she hoped was a neutral line, before turning her head. If one were to look at the pony standing behind Trixie for the first time after stepping out from the street, one would have immediately thought she came straight from the brickwork. Her apricot coat meshed nicely with her maroon mane, which was split by a lighter carmine-red shade. A gray beret rested just behind her horn, which glowed with magical exertion as she carried a small folder with her. When she turned to place the folder back into her carry-on bag, they all got a look at her Cutie Mark: it was of an albatross, holding up a wreath of tulip bulbs. She turned back to them. She was smiling; but the smile, all teeth, suggested not kindness, but mockery. “Well, I do declare!” she exclaimed. “Maud Pie! Is that really you?” Maud gave a terse nod, careful not to look too closely at her face. She could feel those cobalt eyes judging her in secret. “What a surprise! I would not have imagined that you’d be coming to one of these events! And with, ehh, other ponies, no less!” Starlight and Trixie looked at Maud, the obvious question hidden. Maud sighed inwardly. “Girls, this is Elegy Mixer,” she said, pointing to the newcomer. “Elegy, these are my friends, Starlight Glimmer and Trixie Lulamoon.” Elegy turned and smiled at the two of them—it was the same smile that she had for Maud. “Friends! Well, that’s something. You know, Maud wasn’t much of a friend-maker back at school. But I guess anything can change!” “Yes,” Maud said, mostly because she didn’t think staying silent would do any good. Starlight, Maud noticed, was looking at Elegy with bewilderment, for which Maud couldn’t blame her. Yet Trixie, meanwhile, seemed just as uncomfortable as Maud was. She shifted in her seat, and though her smile and demeanor were otherwise polite, she kept glancing back and forth between Maud and Elegy. “Starlight!” Elegy suddenly said. “You look like a poet. Are you the one entering today’s contest?” “What? No, no, oh no! No, that’s Maud.” “Really? But I thought—” “Thought what?” Trixie said. She was leaning slightly forward, and her face suggested she’d drank something repugnant recently. Elegy’s smile dropped into pursed lips. “Well, it’s just… Well, Maud, you’re working in the geological field, aren’t you?” “I am.” “I suppose I am just, well, surprised, then, to see you here. After all…” She paused, glancing up at Maud. Then she shook her head slightly, and reclaimed her smile. . “But anyway! Good luck, I suppose. I am surprised, though. Very surprised.” And she repeated that word to herself as she trotted back towards a distant corner, up until Maud could no longer audibly hear her. A moment passed at the table, before Starlight let out a low whistle. “Wow. She’s…” “A diva,” Trixie finished. They both looked at her. “What? It takes one to know one. I can tell.” “And based on what she said, you two went to school together? But I thought you went to school for your rockterate.” “I did,” Maud said. She suddenly felt a bit heated, and rubbed the side of her head. “But I also attended the school’s literary arts magazine club. That’s where I started writing my poems. Elegy Mixer was the club’s President and Supervisor.” She paused, then added, “She basically ran it herself. It was admirable.” “That doesn’t explain why she was like that,” Starlight said. Maud took a moment to open up her bags and pull out some sheets of paper. She lay them out, careful not to crinkle the pages. “Elegy doesn’t think ponies who don’t specialize in writing should write,” she simply said. “That’s what she got her Cutie Mark in. Wrote a poem. Got it published. Poof. Mark.” She pointed to one of the papers. “Here’s something I wrote in school that I’ve polished up a bit. I submitted it to the magazine. Elegy rejected it.” The faintest hint of a tremor passed through her. “She said it wasn’t a poem, that it was just a geological lab report.” Starlight winced. “Oog.” “Well, that’s just silly,” Trixie said. “I mean, I’ve heard and read some of your poems before, Maud. They’re all really good! That pony doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” “I agree.” Starlight nodded vehemently. “But that makes this contest all the more important to you, right? Because now you’ve got a chance to prove her wrong.” “And win that sweet trophy,” Trixie added. “Yes, that, too. So don’t you worry, Maud.” “I’m not worried,” Maud said. Still, she could not help but look, out of the corner of her eye, to where Elegy now sat. She had taken out her folder again and was juggling several pages at once. No doubt they were some of her finest poems; her talent nopony could deny. Maud looked down at her own poems. She’d glanced at them during the train ride, though it wasn’t necessary, since the rules of the contest were that she could only perform aloud the poem she’d submitted with the reservation. She’d brought the extras mostly because she liked having them close. Having her writing there with her made them feel somehow more real. But now, new doubts wormed their way into her mind, and it took a valiant effort to set them aside. The lights in the cellar dimmed. From behind the curtain on the stage, an aged, liver-spotted, silver-maned pony wearing a red, striped vest stepped out, her legs quivering beneath her, and her glasses threatening to spill. She walked up to the microphone and cleared her throat. At once, all chatter ceased, and all eyes turned attentive towards her. “Good evening,” she said in a somewhat humorously high-pitched voice. The microphone squealed. “My name is First Draft. Thank you, everycreature, for coming to the thirty-ninth annual Scribble and Quibble Poetry Slam. As always, I would like to extend my sincerest gratitude to our host, La Galería Sestina, for this performance space. While we would rather you sit through the performances completely, during intermission you are more than welcome to go and grab some refreshments and a bite to eat. Attendees have ten percent off of every main item, in any case. My fellow judges would say you should try the blueberry bagels. My fellow judges are wrong.” Some applause, and some laughing, followed. Draft’s lips twitched into a smile. “We are fortunate to have gathered six entries for this contest—six entries, six poems, and six performers. The order has already been decided; you will find that in the beginning of the pamphlets.” Maud opened hers. She was slotted for the last position, just after Elegy Mixer. “Saving the best for last,” Starlight said. “Each performer, once we begin, will come up to the stage and read the poem out loud to us. This poem is the one they’ve submitted with their RSVP, and this will be the only poem being performed. A short break will follow so that the next may get ready. Three judges—myself, Inky Quill, and Red Rhetoric” —nearest to the stage, two ponies, a mare and a stallion, stood and did a short bow—“will preside over the whole event. At the end we will discuss our results, and then we will announce the winner of the award.” First Draft paused to straighten her glasses, then glanced back up, smiling still. “We’d like to thank all of our performers in the audience, and we cannot wait to hear what you have to say. Thank you.” More applause as she left the stage to join the other judges at their table. Trixie leaned over. “That reminds me, Maud. Which poem are you going to show us?” Wordlessly, Maud shuffled the papers aside until she found the one she’d submitted. It was called Rock In The Cave. Trixie looked down the lines quickly. “It’s about a rock,” Maud added helpfully. “I can see that. Still! It definitely sounds good. To me, anyway. I’m sure the judges will love it!” Maud nodded, but could not quite bring herself to smile. Instead, her mind traveled back to Elegy Mixer. There was a curious feeling on the back of her neck, like somepony was staring fire into her, but when Maud turned around and looked in Elegy’s direction, she saw that she had her nose buried in her own poem, apparently busy. The lights brightened again, and as the first poet trotted up to the platform, Maud knew that the Poetry Slam had begun.