Sincerely, Ragamuffin

by Homage

Letter 5

Dear Princess Celestia,
Things have been getting worse for me since the last letter. I have been tending to the crops for three months now. The work is brutal, not just because it is tiring, but because it is repetitive. Wake up, eat breakfast, walk out into fields, fill wheelbarrows, plant cacti, break for lunch, fill more wheelbarrows, plant more cacti, go home and eat dinner, sleep, repeat. Except on Sunday. Sunday is my favorite day, because we don't have to work. We usually try to do something fun together. Last week, Prickly Pear and I played dress-up with some of the fashions she made from woven cactus fiber. The week before that, Dad, Jackfruit, Pear and I played hoofball while Mom watched with a smile. On Sunday, I always have my weekly cutie mark quest. Since I still haven't found my special talent, Mommy and Daddy encourage me to spend at least an hour every Sunday trying to find it. These “cutie mark crusades” usually end with disaster, but at they are often fun. Jackfruit and Prickly Pear usually help me! Last week, I tried painting Pear's hooves, but they ended up all being different colors. I also accidentally got some polish on her mane. She laughed, but she hasn't let me anywhere near her hooficure set since. These little adventures are, unfortunately, just temporary distractions from the hard labor waiting for us the next day. On Sunday, I am a free mare, but for the rest of the week, I am a slave to the cactus. The spiny green plant is like a monster to me. I imagine it as a dark green pony with solid black eyes, needle sharp teeth, and a mane and tail made of cactus spikes. Its cutie mark is also cactus needles. The spiny pony mocks me in a low, creepy voice that makes my coat stand on edge. It whispers to me, "Ragamuffin, you belong to me! There is no escape, you will join me and become a cactus too!" But I don't want to be made of cactus. I don't want to be dull. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to be prickly. I don't want to hurt anypony who gets close to me. I am sad, but as long as I have my family, I think I can manage. Prickly Pear sings songs with me while we work, Jackfruit has started to let me back into the kitchen again, Dad reads with me on Sundays, and Mommy helps me with work when I am having trouble keeping up. Still, though, I can tell that they are not happy either. Even Mom, who actually likes tending to the cacti, is unhappy, because she knows that we are. The cactus monster is at our doorstep, but the five of us, together, can protect each other from being pricked. I hope.

Sincerely,
Ragamuffin