Story Ideas #7: Scenes from a Childhood · 5:26am May 15th, 2020
I wrote “Equestrian Business” with the goal of opening up avenues for new Equestria Girls stories. This one is mine.
(For those coming here because they favorited “Equestrian Business”, I’ve been throwing out story ideas in my blog that may or may not ever end up as full stories. This is idea #7.)
The idea is that I would re-tell what happened from before the first movie all the way out to Forgotten Friendships, from the point of view of Trixie and her single mother. I saw a plotline of a young woman who believed in magic for intensely-personal reasons, contrasted against an older woman who steadfastly refused to believe for her own reasons. This would culminate in a scene immediately after Forgotten Friendship, where Trixie demonstrates her new abilities for her mother in a scene that would powerfully show the conclusion of their character arcs.
The only problem is, Equestria Girls kept going, and Trixie appearances like that in Spring Breakdown undermine what I’ve done with her character. So this idea goes on the “dead” pile.
I’ll give you the only chapter I wrote, followed by a quick outline of the rest:
Chapter 1: The Death of “Bea”
July 10, 2000
The white 1995 Honda Civic sat at the main railroad crossing for the city of Canterlot, New Brass Sky, waiting for the gate to lift. Catherine, the driver, was clearly from out of town, as evidenced by a name that wasn’t obviously descriptive in English, as well as her un-Markist pale pink skin. Her bright red-orange hair though looked like it did belong. Her rose-tinted lipstick was equally striking. She was wearing a white blouse and a dark blue skirt, both of them immaculately clean and freshly-ironed. She looked taller than she actually was, thanks to her habit of sitting ramrod-straight in her seat. In short, she looked like she was driving to a job interview, or perhaps from.
It was a look she had worn faithfully for the past two weeks, in a drive that had followed Interstate 80 West all the way from New Jersey. A dozen interviews…zero results. Her last interviewing spot was Omaha, and her next would be Cheyenne, Wyoming, and she had no intention of interviewing anywhere in between. Canterlot was smack in the middle of Markist territory, and everybody knew that Markist firms hired their own whenever the feds would let them get away with it. She had left the freeway for a snack run, and that was it.
Catherine had just realized that this was a freight train she was waiting on, and an exceptionally long one at that, so she put the car into Park and allowed herself to zone out. This brief moment of relaxation was not fated to last.
Catherine’s eight-year old daughter, Bea, was curled up on the passenger seat until she noticed that the car had stopped moving. She ran her blue fingers through her two-toned hair of pale blue, rubbed her eyes, and looked around. Then she gasped in surprise and grabbed her mother’s arm. “Look, Mommy, look!” she exclaimed, pointing out the window at the people that were walking up and down the sidewalks next to the car. “I see an orange girl! And a purple boy! And…and…so many colors! They look like me!”
Catherine sighed. “Yes, this is the town that your father came from,” she explained. As she got a good look around her, she noticed a small sign: “Canterlot Church of the Goddess, 5 miles.” She bit her lip in thought, then looked over and noticed the uncharacteristic beaming smile on her daughter’s face.
Just then the railroad crossing beam finally lifted, revealing the supermarket on the other side. She drove right past it.
“Mom, weren’t we supposed to stop there?” asked Bea.
“A little later, my sweet. I’ve got business with the church.”
~ ~ ~
The Honda Civic pulled into a parking spot alongside the stable-shaped building that was the Canterlot Church of the Goddess. Catherine got out, took Bea’s little hand in her own, and marched purposefully through the doors. The interior had a vague resemblance to the churches of Catherine’s Catholic upbringing. There were pews on either side of an aisle, terminating in stained-glass windows and an altar. There were no services being held at the moment, so the building was being used as an impromptu daycare, as was also familiar from Catherine’s childhood. The two members of the church who had been roped into the job of babysitters were a tall man with pale green skin and yellow-orange hair, and a short woman with pale yellow skin and turquoise and white hair. Almost as noticeable as the skin and hair colors were the emblems, or marks, that both adults and children wore prominently on their clothes or on chains around their necks. Without thinking, Catherine pulled a small gold cross on a thin gold chain out from inside her shirt, and positioned it where it would be easily seen.
Catherine approached the man, who of the adults seemed the less preoccupied. “Excuse me, would it be possible for me to see one of your counselors? I have a question regarding my daughter.” And with that she gently pulled the suddenly-shy little girl out of her shadow.
“Oh!” the man exclaimed, looking them over. “Of course! I can take you to see Father Delver right now!” He pointed at the door of an office in a nearby wall. “My name is Gnosi, and this is Meridiem.”
“Catherine Lulamoon, and my daughter Bea.” Catherine took a moment to look silently between her daughter and the four girls that the pair was looking after. “Um, would it be alright if you looked after my daughter while I spoke to this Father Delver alone?”
Bea looked up at her mother with a cautious look.
“It’s alright, Bea. You can make some new friends while I have a talk about your nightmares. It will only be a little while.”
“Will they be able to make them go away?” Bea asked in a small voice.
“I hope so,” Catherine replied.
~ ~ ~
Bea hesitantly let go of her grip of her mother’s hand. “OK,” she said, watching as the man named Gnosi led her mother away. She then turned to face the other girls.
The pink member of the quartet was instantly in her face. “Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie, and I only got my mark last week! What’s your name?”
The blue girl stepped back nervously. “I’m Bea, which is short for Beatrice. Although…Mom told me once that among Markists, my name is Trixie.” She gestured for the others to come close before adding, “That’s my real name,” in a whisper.
Pinkie then introduced her sisters: Maud, Limestone and Marble. She did this so quickly that Bea, or rather Trixie, wasn’t sure which one was which. “Our parents are busy moving all of our stuff from this cottage twenty miles from here into this big house right next to the high school! Well, one of them, anyway. We used to live next to the refinery.”
“I’m sure we’ll get used to the strange new smells eventually,” added the voice of one of the other sisters, who was doing her best to avoid direct conversation by hiding behind the babysitter, Meridiem. Trixie would later learn that this one was Maud.
“Was that your mom?” asked another sister. “Her colors are weird. …Her name, too.”
“Don’t be rude, Limestone,” said Meridiem. She turned to face Gnosi, who had returned after dropping off Catherine.
“Bea’s mother is a Christian,” Gnosi patiently explained. “Did you see the cross she wore?”
“I thought that was her mark,” said the final sister, in a nearly inaudible squeak.
“Where’s her father?” asked Limestone.
“My daddy’s Jack Pot,” Trixie replied, puffing herself up. “He’s a real famous magician in Las Vegas.”
“Can he come by and do a show for us?” asked Pinkie.
Trixie shook her head. “’Fraid not. My mom kicked him out when she caught him at an orgy.”
Gnosi and Meridiem’s mouths dropped open in unison.
“What’s an orgy?” asked Pinkie Pie.
“That’s a very grown-up thing,” Meridiem said loudly, hoping to down out whatever Trixie was about to say.
“An orgy is the wrong kind of party.” That’s what Trixie actually said.
“There’s a wrong kind of party?!” demanded Pinkie.
“Uh-huh,” said Trixie. “Orgies have booze.”
“Oooh,” the four sisters said in solemn unison.
~ ~ ~
“Trixie was born in New Orleans. Her father was just starting out in stage magic. He claimed to have all sorts of supernatural abilities, but the only one I can attest to is his charm. Eventually, his true colors showed themselves, and we separated. Until that point, I did my best to be the best Markist spouse and mother that I could be.”
Catherine was seated in a comfortable chair facing an ornate desk. Sitting opposite her, as identified by a placard on the desk and the sign on the door, was the Most Reverend Truth Delver, Bishop of Canterlot. Father Delver lacked the sheer presence expected of one of his rank, sitting rather too comfortably in his chair. He had white skin and bright blue hair. He wore a suit, all of white, including a pair of kid gloves.
“But you are no longer quite so certain of the best path for her, yes?” he asked.
“She has not been treated well at either of the schools she has attended thus far.”
“Non-Markist?”
~ ~ ~
“The kids called me Zom-Bea,” Trixie said matter-of-factly, presenting her blue hands to her audience. “Three of them threw me in the dumpster one day so I could be with the other dead bodies. And the principal said nobody would be punished, because the damage was ‘only psycho-log-i-cal’.” Trixie closed her eyes so she could remember how to say that last word, because it was very long. “And then Mommy…I mean, and then somebody did something so horrible to those three kids that we had to move away. Really fast. But my mom said it was okay, because the damage was only psych…psycho-logical.”
“And that’s why you were having nightmares?” asked a traumatized Gnosi.
“What? No. Everybody learned their lesson. But it did make me wonder why me and my dad were the only people I knew with skin that wasn’t pink or brown.”
~ ~ ~
“Obviously, she would be better off living the rest of her live in a Markist town like this one,” said Catherine. “But I am just starting in my chosen career, after a long time making my way through law school.” She leaned forward. “The world I know, the world I’m comfortable with, is non-Markist. I’m not sure what use a place like Canterlot has for a corporate lawyer without a mark. And I’m nervous about what a mark will do to my daughter’s prospects for the future, if she ever wants to live in the wider world.” She leaned back and sighed. “She’s been having dreams that she was difficulty describing to me. Abstract shapes of bright colors passing through each other. Songs in inhuman languages. That’s the marking dream, correct?”
“Correct.”
“They are not pleasant dreams. She always awakens from them crying, and usually remains sad for several hours afterward, despite being unable to remember what in the dream made her feel that way. Have you ever encountered anything like this before?”
“No,” said Father Delver, looking down at his gloves for a few moments before nerving himself to meet her blue eyes with his blue-green ones. “But it isn’t good.
“I don’t know if you believe the more-outrageous stories about what our marks can do for us, but the fact of the matter is that nobody can control what mark they get, and not all of these marks are useful. And another thing: once a Markist gets their mark, they are forever changed by it, especially if they let it control their life.”
“So you’re saying that she could get a mark that makes her an idle dreamer, a drifter who never accomplishes anything. Is that what the nightmares are pointing to?”
Father Delver shrugged helplessly. “Perhaps. Or perhaps they represent the struggles she will have ahead of her, regardless of your choice.”
Catherine stared at the desktop as she thought. “If she grows up a Markist, she’ll have to get her mark to be accepted. And she’ll have to deal with constant prejudice in a non-Markist environment.”
Father Delver rose to his feet. “If you decide to stay, I can try to get you a job—I have a lot of contacts. But as you said, you would be the one facing discrimination. You would be starting as a clerk, and would have to work harder than anyone with a mark to prove yourself.” He then helped Catherine to stand as well.
Catherine opened the door of the office and looked out, to see her daughter telling stories to the group of four children and two adults and keeping them spellbound.
She looked back at the bishop. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said.
~ ~ ~
Catherine sat in a pew, waiting for her daughter and Father Delver’s assistant Meridiem to emerge from a rather large windowless room that was attached to the front of the church.
Suddenly the door burst open and the little blue girl emerged, clutching a small object to her chest and running at top speed towards her.
“Mommy! Mommy! You’ll never guess what mark I got!”
Catherine did her job as a parent by catching her running child before she had the chance to crash into anything, taking a bruise to the shin from an errant foot. “And what did you get?”
The girl held up the small porcelain plate she had been clutching, which showed a magic wand superimposed on a crescent shape formed out of a sparkly-blue substance. “See!” she exclaimed. “This means I’m going to be a great magician when I grow up. Just like Dad!”
Catherine held her daughter close, so she couldn’t see the tears of disappointment in her eyes. “Yes, my sweet, just…just like your Dad. So, Trixie, how would you feel if we moved to this town?”
Trixie pushed her mother away so she could look at her, her eyes sparkling with joy. “We can move here? Yes, Mommy! This place is the best!”
Catherine pulled her in for another hug. “I’m glad you agree, my little sorceress.”
“Um, Mom?” Trixie asked, turning her head to look up.
“Yes?”
“You called me Trixie.”
“Yes, I think that should be your name from now on.” She paused as she took in the permanency of this moment. “Is that OK?”
“I’ll be the best Trixie ever, just you see!”
“That’s my girl.”
In Chapter 2, Catherine has gotten a job at a Markist-run corporate law firm, where her attempts at advancement are constantly blocked due to her lack of a mark. She starts going by the name Cat, to make it less obvious to those she deals with through correspondence that she’s not a Markist. She’s living in an apartment, and her ambition is to make enough to afford a house.
Trixie, age 10, has gone all-in on the idea of being a magician, and she constantly bugs her mother to buy her more and more props for her act.
One day, Trixie is taken to work by Cat after her usual babysitter cancels on her. She goes in for a review, and a snooping Trixie discovers how her mother is being treated. Seeing the magnitude of the forces arrayed against Cat, she resolves to change her own behavior, to be as good as possible so to make it easier for her mother to put in the work needed to prove that she’s better than her competition.
In Chapter 3, Cat nearly runs over a derelict teen, and takes her home. This is Sunset Shimmer, newly arrived on Earth, and she eagerly takes in every bit of information Cat and Trixie give to her.
In Chapter 4, Trixie runs for Princess of the Fall Formal in opposition to Sunset. Sunset warns her to back off, but Trixie doesn’t listen. On the eve of their big debate, Sunset lets Trixie find her notes, which reveals that she will use the forum to expose Cat’s past as an exotic dancer in New Orleans, a revelation that is sure to destroy Cat’s career. Trixie backs out of the race, and when she tries to tell her mother what happened, she finds that Sunset has poisoned her mind by revealing secrets that Trixie has been hiding from her.
Chapter 5 covers the aftermath of Equestria Girls. Trixie interviews her fellow students, trying to get to the bottom of the events she witnessed. She’s unable to work anything out until Sunset shows up at her door to apologize for what she did in the election two years earlier. Trixie has only two conditions before she’s willing to forgive Sunset: tell her mother the truth, and tell Trixie everything she knows about magic. And so Sunset tells her everything.
I don’t have much planned for the next few chapters, which go through the other movies and specials. They all take place either between movies, or during scenes when the camera wasn’t pointed at Trixie.
Cat’s journey revolves around her job, and how her pursuit of power beyond what was needed to be happy has made her distant from her daughter, who she holds in unconscious contempt for reminding her of her ex-husband.
In the wake of Forgotten Friendship, Trixie can finally perform real magic, but not on command, and certainly not in front of an audience. So she sneaks through the portal into Equestria, and seeks out her duplicate. Along the way she finds out that her magic can only be used for the benefit of others, not herself.
Meanwhile Cat discovers her daughter is missing, and tries to find her. Jack Pot finally shows up, but it’s only because a reporter was trying to use his neglect of his daughter to hurt his reputation—he just wants a photo with his smiling daughter to put in his wallet. Cat sends him packing. And then she finds Trixie’s journal, with a note attached asking her to read it if Trixie ever went missing.
Trixie returns home, and demonstrates real magic for Cat, leading to a big cathartic moment.
The End.
Sounds like an interesting concept; I'm sorry you lost motivation to write it. Still, thanks for sharing this. :)
I've always been a strong proponent of the grandfather clause in fanfic writing. Never let something as minor as canon elements you couldn't have known about shoot down your ideas, I say.
(What? No, I'm not biased just because I want to see more from this universe. Don't be ridiculous.)