//------------------------------// // Pegacorn Problems // Story: Broken Cookie Cutters // by Jake Witt //------------------------------// The night comes to a close as Luna’s moon lowers past the horizon and the bright rays of the princess’s sun begins to rise. Ever since you moved into your new house you’ve regret the existence of the sun and those under it. Boxes upon boxes of your belongings block your window and yet the light still reaches your eye from the cracks of the boxes. You saved up some bits to move away and make a name for yourself and now you’re saving up to move back so there wasn’t a need to unpack everything you brought. An odd, yellow unicorn lifted her body and got out of bed to welcome the inevitable. She tightened her pink robe and wobbled to the bathroom. She brushed her relatively short mane and sighed in disgust. You see, she tried dying her bright red mane a dark orange but somehow ended up with a blue dye, giving her an ugly purple color with red streaks. You are not a purple nor do you want to be one or ever planned to be one and you’ve hated how it made you stand out even more than you already were. You took off your robe, letting free two large wings, the source of your ire ever since you moved from Canterlot to... Cantertrot, a town known for its lack of originality and a strange strength of spirit. A spirit that redirects to wherever you stand. Lifting your plastic tiara, you stare at your reflection; salmon eyes to salmon eyes. You frown, rubbing your chin, “What if I change my name to tinkle? What tourist would want to meet Princess Tinkle?” Your name is Twinkle Star and you have a slight deformity called “Almost Alicorn” where 1 out of 30 ponies are born with a horn and wings but lack the earth pony strength and the branching magic wells. It’s more noticeable with those dubbed “Pegacorns” than “Earth Unicorn” or “Grounded Pegasus” since the last two could be attributes of another birth defect. You are a Pegacorn, unfortunately. Unfortunately? You can fly and use magic! Sure but not at the same time because of your lack of branching magic flow and you look like an alicorn. A princess. You moved to safely make a life for yourself but now you’re stuck being a Diet Princess for Diet Canterlot. I stood guard next to her front door. A green stallion in his cardboard and plastic royal guard armor with a white body suit underneath and my blue mane gelled back with a few hairs out of place. I wasn’t wearing my mask or helmet today... because it was hot out and I lost the anonymous mask. Nobody has made a big deal the other times- Your thoughts faded away as the Sleeping Beauty left her house earlier than usual, her silver, glittery boots shining in your eyes more than the artificial gems on her crown. “Captain Little Star, reporting for duty,” you drone the daily mantra. “I’ve found the optimal chilling wall and I refuse to move.” “K.” She begins to turn and you start to move. “I accepted your refusal, bud.” “And I refuse to get paid for nothing.” “But following me around has the same impact as leaning on that ‘optimal chilling wall’.” “Do you have any groceries you need?” I asked, briefly glancing at her gold star cutie mark with the silver border... and what lies beyond the border. “Any spring cleaning?” “If I order you to get me groceries, can you get anything else but bananas?” I tapped my chin, “So I hear you don’t like- HMMMMM- bananas?” She raises a brow. “I’m kidding! But you will have to wait for Rusty; I heard you’re starting to attract a bad crowd. The mayor has the whole three members of your guard on high alert with real weapons this time!” Twinkle Star began to scan the area, “Then why did you offer to do chores?!” “I outrank Rusty and Gutsy; I’m not missing out on the opportunity.” “You know what? Follow me. I don’t care.” She turns around, almost whipping me with her red tail. I fixed the helmet on my head and followed. Nearly four months have passed but the sudden influx of your fans is still overwhelming. Anywhere you go and everything you do becomes a town-wide trend and a forced red carpet event. Your famous for existing and it’s stupid because there are more ponies out there that need the attention; not this act you put on day in and day out. Though you’re fake around your fan base, there are moments where you can let a tiny bit of yourself escape. This is one of these days where you let a guest onto your stage. You find Rusty Horshoe and Gutsy, your other guards, join you. They remove their white masks to let their respective tan and lime green faces free. The four of you walk to the Everflea Park where you find a hooded unicorn filly sitting at your usual bench. You just asked about her day. She looks up, “What is it like to be a princess?” Her eyes seemed to be a mixture of blue and green that directed your attention away from the curious frown on her pink face. “Straight to the point! Haha!” My fans laughed nervously behind me. “Well, originally you’re a regular pony with a quirk that some ponies can warm up to before being thrusted into the position where you wear shiny things, live wherever you want, and have appearances to uphold! It’s not an easy job.” “Do you think I can be a princess?” The nosy crowd ‘aww’ed while I let the question churn in my mind’s eye. I never want to lie and I hate this job... what do I tell her? Here goes a bad idea, “Well, I believe anybody can become a princess but there are trials. Some trials are personal to a pony and can very in difficulty yet there is one common trial that shows up at the beginning and the end. The easiest trial that starts and ends your journey.” She stood on the bench to get to my eye level, bouncing as excitement and anticipation grew. “It’s a question: Are you sure you want to be a princess?” She stopped, looking down and then back up. “I don’t know? Maybe?” Twinkle Star smiles, “I can relate to your uncertainty; a princess has a huge responsibility. In all honesty, I’m not a real princess- or rather I’m the Princess of Cantertrot and Acting. I fear my actions may reflect an image onto the real princesses sometimes. I’m still not sure if I want to be a princess but I don’t know what else I would be if I wasn’t.” The crowd began shouting in support and outrage with words like ‘modest’ and ‘phony pony’ spreading around. The filly took off her hood, showing her own tiny wings, “Can I play princess, too?” I was taken aback from the surprise but not enough to stop me from placing my tiara on her head and bowing, “You may join me Princess...?” “I’m Princess Berry Tart!” I put on Little’s guard helmet, “And what are you the princess of?” “Ice cream!” She hopped down as I led her to the nearest ice cream parlor, without a huge crowd of ponies following us. From the crowed, green smoke flew into the sky...