Garbage day. A day that most ponies abhor.
There are many different reasons why ponies dislike this day. The smell, broken bags, the trip to dispose of it. The strain the compacting spell causes if you’re a unicorn, the smoke, ashes and heat if you burn it.
However, there is one pony in Ponyville who happens to love garbage day.
“Twilight!” Spike called out, hoping to catch her attention.
“Yeah Spike?” Twilight responded, popping her head out from a pile of books.
Holding back a chuckle at the sight, Spike spoke. “Do you know what day it is?”
Twilight cocked her head to the side “Tuesday?”
“The first Tuesday of the month. Which means…?” Spike asked, purposefully dragging out his question.
Twilights eyes lit up as her tail swished in anticipation. Calming down her features, she answered his question. “Which means it’s garbage day. Thank you for reminding me Spike. I’ll take care of it all if you would be willing to get it together for me?”
Spike rolled his eyes at the excitement Twilight was hiding, which easily shone through her eyes. “Already done. It’s all out back waiting for you.”
Unknown to Twilight, a large excited grin came across her muzzle as she stood up from her piles of books and put them away at once with her magic. “Thanks Spike. That’s why you’re my number one assistant. I’ll get right to it,” she said as she made her way towards the back door inside the kitchen.
Once the door had shut, Spike could only shake his head at the odd pony. “What kind of pony gets so excited over garbage day?” Spike had long since gotten used to most of Twilight’s odd habits and brushed it off quickly. ’At least she put her books away this time,’ he mused as he went back to work.
With a purple flash and a popping noise, Twilight appeared in a pure rock part of the quarries outside of town with a few bags of garbage.
After setting them down, Twilight looked in every direction to make sure that nopony was around. After assuring that she was alone, her horn lit up as she used her magic to grab a collection of wood that she had hidden a while back. After the bags were set with wood and stone creating a perfect fire pit, she performed a kind of spell that few ponies had seen her purposefully perform. A pyromancy spell.
As the bags started to burn, Twilight took a seat in front of it much closer than any pony would have considered safe, Twilight sat and watched the flame struggle with all its might to grow. It was like watching a newborn foal trying to run. Sometimes the flame would catch something and begin to grow only to have its newfound fuel end. Like a foal getting a good start only to fall. Both may have had problems getting started but once they got a hold on it, they didn’t slow down.
Once the flame had grown, it didn’t so much burn as it did dance. Moving to and fro, growing and shrinking. It was beautiful. Much unlike her own dancing and yet so very much alike. There was no seeable rhythm and it danced only how it wished, not how anypony thought it should.
With smoke as its backdrop and curtains the ballet continued. Twilight found her hoof moving toward the flame. She simply watched as her hoof became covered in the flames.
She had never figured out for sure what made her so different from other ponies. Why her fur simply turned white when covered in fire instead of burning away and causing intense pain. She at one time had theorized that she was a natural born fire mage. Through history there had been some very powerful fire mages that could walk through fire for a short time. She dismissed that idea eventually due to too many differences but, at that moment, she didn’t mind not knowing for sure. She didn’t think about what implications could come from she could be. She was too taken by the movement of fire trailing up her leg. As the fire spread, so too did the white fur. It was a strange thing, Twilight knew that for sure but again, she simply could not find it in herself to care all that much at that moment.
As Twilight became more than half covered in flames and white fur, she felt warm. Though many ponies would say that she was simply making a terrible understatement, it was a different kind of warm. It wasn’t the kind a pony gets from sitting in front of a fireplace. It was like her foalhood, being cradled by her mother. It was like her fillyhood, being wrapped in the wing of Princess Celestia. It was like when she was hugged by all of her friends.
It was as though the flames themselves loved her as their own child and wanted nothing more than to protect and make her as comfortable as equinly possible. Twilight thought that perhaps, she loved the flames just as much.
As the flames completely covered her, she turned her attention back to the stage and its dancers.
The only tune that they danced to was that of their own crackling. While most ponies would only think of it as noise, Twilight heard a symphony. Within the cracks and snaps lied a beautiful song without a single instrument. Only the dancers were needed.
At times, the flames coming from onstage would combines with their closely sitting audience. These moments made Twilight feel as though she was a part of the show. As though, had there been credits attributed to it, she would have been allowed to name herself among the dancers though she stay sitting throughout the show as the private audience.
The show that Twilight thought was fit for the largest of theaters was now reaching its crescendo as she was completely bathed in flames.
While this was undoubtedly the most exciting part, Twilight knew that soon it would be over. She knew that, soon the smoky curtains would come up and consume the dancers, leaving none behind. She would have to collect all that was left. The ash roses that would lie where they once went through the air with grace that would make the greatest of dancers jealous.
Though Twilight was sad that the show would soon end, she knew that next month there would be an encore.