//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 : Windy Scamper // Story: Sticky Notes // by Windy Scamper //------------------------------// I grabbed the torch and brought it to the small white bird, palming the white silk that the dove would "turn into." A quick trade-out, as they call it in the magic buisness. "No! Stop!" It was high-pitched and on the bloody murder category. I turned in the middle of the switch to see what was wrong, and in all the confusion, the torch dropped. The stage was set ablaze, and I watched in horror as ponies rushed out of the theatre, trying to avoid the advancing flames. And as I flew as fast as I could, grabbing a couple of screaming earth ponies and rescuing them, as were the other pegasi, I got a glimpse of the screamer. It was a foal. A stupid foal who thought I was seriously going to burn that dove alive. My career was ruined and ponies were injured just because some stupid couple couldn't keep their foal's mouth shut! The last thing I remember was watching the fireponies coming to rescue the others as I collapsed on the ground. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I reflected on the past night as I sat outside a cafe in Sugarcube Corner. My coat was dyed dark purple instead of it's usally lime green. A baseball cap from Sweet Apple Acres was pulled over my head to hide my eye, as an attempt to keep ponies from recgonizing me. I had gone into hiding after the accident, afraid of being pressed with charges that weren't my fault. I had already appeared in multiple newspapers, and sometimes in the front page, such as the article I was reading now. Amateur Ponyville Magician, Windy Scamper, Causes Fire Accident. I read of the numbers in each article I saw involving my accident. 23 injuries. 4 casualties. The latter always caused a sharp pang in my heart. 4 casualties. 4 ponies died because of my ADD like personality and the stupid, screaming foal. Thus, because of all of the commotion, I potrayed one of the popular mares from my high school days; Rosemary Petuina, who specialised in chroma therapy, or whatever you call seeing/color therapy. Basically, she arranged flowers to make certain people feel certain ways; to make a colt's marefriend feel loved, to give a grave rememberance, or to give the sick hope. It's amazing what colors can do to a pony, she had told me once. Thus, this was what I said I did for a living. Nopony had recgonized me yet, and I hoped to keep it that way. Unfortunately, this meant wearing dresses everywhere I went, to cover up my cutie mark. However, I would not allow myself to be discovered. Of course, what life is there to live if it isn't mine? I don't have much hope; my career is shot, and nopony will even bother talking to the real me. I have no bits, and no place to stay. My parents had already abandoned me, and this incident probably caused them to erase any memory and trace of them ever giving birth to me. And so, after coming to the conclusion that there was no point in living much longer as a pony I am not, I made a deal with myself; Once a pony discovers who I really am, I am ending my life. And that will be that. Half of me wants to be discovered soon. The other half of me wants to cling onto that last string of hope that says that things will get better soon. Who knows, maybe it's because of my new purple coat. The real Rosemary would certaintly know. I continued to try and make sense of my jumbled thoughts when I saw a mare put up a note on the billboard. I had never really noticed it until now, I had assumed it was for flyers and announcements. But all I saw were sticky notes of various colors. I walked up to the board after fixing my skirt to cover my cutie mark as usual, and lowering my hat. I saw a sign posted on the wall, and five scattered sticky notes. The sign read; Voice your opinion! Leave an anonymous sticky note below to get all those feelings out without anypony knowing who you really are! Most of the sticky notes were pretty lame. The first 3 were all variations of hi, the 4th was a smiley face drawn out to fit the entire note, but the fifth was serious. It talked of a reason for hatred on somepony else, and why everypony and their cousin should hate them, too. Coward. Using the anonymousity, if that's even a word, to destroy others. I'm sure you wouldn't say that to everypony's face. And yet, I was offically sucidial, so who was I to talk about being cowardly? I contemplated whether I should add to the serious side of these notes, or whether I should just turn away from it now. After all, considered how I'd hated the first five, I'm sure the 5% of ponies who actually stopped to read these things would just find mine just as stupid as the others. But I had to do as the sign said; get all those feelings out. I saw the stack of sticky notes to the side, and took one, along with one of the "Sugarcube Corner" souvineir-like pens. I scribbled out a note, writing in the smallest print possible to fit it all in. I reread it at least ten times before finally taking it into my hoof and slapping it up onto the board to join the others. I reread the note one more time before turning around and leaving the board, with no intention to ever see it again. I've made a huge mistake, and ponies died because of me. In a week's time, I will be gone. This is my goodbye to a world in which I have nothing.