Pinkamena Diane Pie was a normal filly; she worked from a young age, like many foals during that time period, and worked with dignity and integrity. She was a strong earth pony, even moreso then her relatives and fellow earth ponies, who could push multiple rocks at one time across a field in ten seconds flat. She never argued with others and was fair and balanced, always following orders and doing them flawlessly.
Pinkamena also loved parties.
Her bright blue eyes shone when she sighted a balloon, twinkled when she saw a cake. Never did she turn down an invitation, though they were few and far between. Her friends said that although she had a tough exterior and muscles, she was the life of the party and didn't stop 'till their parents kicked her out.
Yes, the young magenta filly loved parties and everything about them, but she never had the pleasure of having one for herself. Her parents, both uptight and simple ponies, thought of them as "frivolous" and "not at all needed for a joyful time."
But every night, before she slept, Pinkamena dreamed of those balloons she saw at her friends' parties. She wanted blue and yellow ones; along with pink those were her favorite colors. She dreamed of what cake she would have, what music would be playing, who she would invite. "I'll invite every pony in Equestria." The little filly thought.
Every night, before she slept, Pinkamena prayed for a party the next day.
The next day, a sunny Tuesday, Pinkamena woke to no yellow and blue balloons and the entire of Equestria in her room, but her stoic mother with a small scroll in her mouth. "Pinkamena, I have a job for you." She said flatly, setting the scroll on her daughters bed. "I have to help Inkie and Blinkie in the East Field, so you need to go into town and pick up some supplies for the week."
Pinkamena shuffled out of bed and gazed at the scroll, which was quite long and filled with mostly grocery items and toilet paper. She never knew why her mother needed so much toilet paper, why it was on the list every week. "Sure, mother." She replied, putting the scroll firmly between her teeth and heading out behind her mother.
They emerged in the family room, a small room that held a few wooden chairs, a finely carved stone table, one fluffy couch (Only mother and father could sit on it), and a turntable that father owned when he was a foal. The Pie sisters liked to joke that the turntable was around when the dino-ponies walked Equestria.
The other two sisters in question were sitting in chairs across from each other, making faces at one another. Inkie stuck out her tongue and blew out air, puffing out her cheeks. Blinkie giggled. "A dragon!" She exclaimed.
"Of course!" Inkie responded. She watched her sister flap her hooves wildly and make tiny buzzing sounds.
"A bumble bee?"
"No, dear sister, but close."
"A bird! Yes, a bird!"
Blinkie shook her head and flapped harder.
"It's on the tip of my tongue... Ah ha! A pegasus!"
"Correct!"
The two laughed softly as not to get in trouble. They were still giggling as Pinkamena came over.
"Are you two having fun?" The pink filly asked. She was older than her sisters, and tall for her age. Most of what her sisters could see was her legs.
"Yes indeed, we were just playing a game Inkie made up." Blinkie, the youngest of them all (Three years younger than Pinkamena) replied.
Inkie, a year younger than her pink counterpart, blushed. "You helped as well, don't give me all the credit!" She said peevishly.
"Oh well," Blinkie went on, "it's a wonderful game where you make a funny face that depicts a creature, and the other pony has to guess what you're depict-ing!"
"Sounds delightful." Pinkamena complimented her sisters' creativity with a warm smile.
"Why thank-" Inkie was stopped by her mother's loud steps coming into the room.
"Pinkamena, the groceries are waiting." Her mother growled.
Pinkamena dipped her head and picked up the long scroll once more, then bounded out the door towards Ponyville.
As the bright sunlight hit her eyes, the earth filly lowered her eyelids and squeaked. She had never been this far away from home before, and the sun that was high above her had just emerged from the dark hills that surrounded her humble abode.
She had just entered the heart of the town, where dozens of ponies of all shapes and colors milled around. Some stood behind strange wooden carts that were filled to the brim with everything from apples to carrots.
Pinkamena was about to take another step when a white pony ("A stallion," Pinkamena thought) with a electric blue mane that curled around his face in thick tendrils flew right in front of her hooves. "Woah!" He cried, twisting in midair to avoid hitting her. The young foal yelled out of fear and hopped back, trying to understand why a pony- a pony, not a bird- has wings! Sure, they were long and fluffy, fast and smooth, but why? Why didn't she have wings?
The stallion landed awkwardly in a nearby puddle, face-first with his white rump high in the air. Once he got himself up and brushed the dirt from his fur, the pony turned towards Pinkamena and winced. "Sorry, little filly!" He called out as he sped away.
"Goodbye, fair winged-stallion!" Pinkamena said to the wind. After looking both ways for incoming flying ponies she went on her way, into the fray of ponies in Town Circle.
She looked down at the scroll and saw that first on the list was Granny Smith apples (her mother was very specific when it came to apples), which were in a stand manned by an orange earth pony with a few white freckles. She had a yellow mane that was perfectly braided across her shoulders, but from that up her mane was a mess.
"Ya'll get ya sweet apples right ovah 'ere!" She was yelling in a strong Southern accent. Two orange hooves, each holding a different kind of apple, were up in the air and advertising their business. "Right from Swe-et Apple Acres! Get em' while they ah fresh!"
Pinkamena bounded over to the cart and scrambled to a stop in front of the chipping wood. "Hello there, provider of glorious apples!" She smiled and waved at the other filly, who raised an eyebrow. "I require one basket of the finest Granny Smith apples!" She then blushed and grinned sheepishly. "I'm so sorry, where are my manners today?"
The filly blinked slowly. "Ah didn't understand one bit of ya fancy terms and such, but what ah did understand was ya hankerin' for our famous Granny Smith apples!" She exclaimed.
The filly ducked behind the cart, fiddling around in the depths of it for the perfect basket of ripe, sweet apples. "Ah ha!" She said happily as the ideal one came into view, filled to the brim with lime green apples. She picked it up by the wicker handle and thrust it to the counter, using her natural strength to follow through. The basket easily made it upwards, and once the filly got herself situated behind it she put out a hoof.
"Well?" She asked, wiggling it.
Pinkamena blinked. "Oh, pardon me." She raised her own hoof and shook the farm filly's warmly, but noticed she didn't return the favor and stopped. "What ever is wrong?"
The other filly shook her head. "These apples ain't gonna pay for 'emselves."
Pinkamena gasped. "Of course! Silly me!" She reached into the satchel her mother had given to her and pulled out a small, velvet bag with gold strings. She had no idea how many bits were in it (it sure felt heavy, though), but nonetheless she handed the entire thing, bag and all, to the filly.
The foal behind the cart looked suprised as Pinkamena dropped the bag, and became even moreso when she heard the sound it made. "Miss, the apples are only ten bits."
She shook her head. "No no no, keep the change, my dear farm mare. And many thanks for the delicious apples!" She called behind her back as she dragged the basket towards the next cart that was on her list. "A new dress for the Gala..." Pinkamena read. She wasn't very suprised when she saw a small but beautifully crafted stand a few paces away that read "Dresses for sale." There seemed to be a stand for everything in this strange town.
Behind the counter of the stand was a unicorn the color of the first snow, which a mane the color of those plums Pinkamena loved dearly and huge eyes that drank in everything they saw. She had laid out an array of spectacular dresses and hats that had colors ranging from the beginning to the end of the color spectrum that gleamed in the waxing sunlight. Pinkamena saw her mother had not specified the color and design, which was unusual. She would have to make a logical decision in hopes of not unleashing her mother's anger.
"Hello, miss!" She greeted the unicorn with a smile as wide as a mile.
The unicorn filly, about the same age as her if a little older, turned around with a start and gasped. "Who-wha-where?" She asked, very confused. Then she saw Pinkamena, smile agate, and couldn't help but smile back. "Oh, hello there. What may I interest you in today, miss..."
"Pinkamena. Pinkamena Diane Pie." Pinkamena smiled again and put out her hoof.
The other filly seemed to hiss and cower at her hoof, her eyes as large as moons. Pinkamena frowned and stretched it farther. She retreated even farther.
"Rarity. My name is Rarity." The unicorn replied after a while. Pinkamena was satisfied and stepped back to give Rarity some space.
She then looked down at the dresses. They were indeed of the best quality that she had seen, the stictches tight and aligned and the frills perfectly fluffed. "Oh my, I just don't know if I can decide!" She finally exclaimed.
Rarity beamed with pride and her ears perked up. "Why thank you, darling! What occasion are you dressing for? A wedding, perhaps? Maybe a simple party?"
Pinkamena brightened at the sound of a party. Her earlier goals came back to her. But she shooed them away for the moment being; she had to finish her mother's list. "It's for my mother, who is attending the Gala."
Rarity squealed. "The Gala!?" She hurried behind her stand and grabbed a small poster she always hung on the back. It depicted a white unicorn dressed in a fine tuxedo holding the hoof of a white unicorn mare, dressed in a grand gown of purple and magenta and white. Both were smiling happily, and the stallion was reaching down to kiss the mare's hoof which was covered by a glass slipper.
"I've heard so many stories about the Gala; some about how whoever steps through those gates into the garden are destined to find their true love on that night and some where a poor dressmaker became as famous as the Princess' themselves on that very night!" She pointed to the print on the very bottom, which read "Grand Galloping Gala, May 6th, 2011."
"This is a poster for this year's Gala- mother said that if I sell enough dresses here, I can buy my own ticket and go!" A huge smile that could barely fit on her face tingled.
Pinkamena had decided by now, and a simple crimson dress with thick frills at the end of the fabric caught her eye and didn't let go. She picked it up to examine the overall size. "I think this one will be perfect." She decreed.
Rarity's eyes sparkled. "Fifteen bits, miss Pinkamena." She took out a small metal box with a lock that Pinkamena had presumed was a "Bit Box," as her family called it.
She rummaged through the satchel and found another identical bag, the same shade of dark lavender and, according to Pinkamena, the same weight. She dropped it on the counter, where Rarity opened the bag and was amazed to see bits after bits pouring out. "Pinkamena, it's only fifteen bits. Not fifteen million."
"Keep the change, dear Rarity." She winked. "I hope you get to go to the Grand Galloping Gala." With those words still hanging in the air she began to prance off.
"I can't thank you enough, Pinkamena!" Rarity shouted after her. "May Celestia watch you, always!"
The next day Pinkamena awoke with trembling legs and long slashes across her flank. Mother had expressed her anger through her whip, which she hadn't used since she was a filly and went to a rodeo.
She squeaked as one of her legs collapsed on itself, but tried to keep moving. Mother always did a follow-up the next day.
Pinkamena limped past her mirror, down the first stair, but something shiny caught her eye and she clumsily turned around to see it again.
In the mirror was Pinkamena, but she was different- not hurt, not scratched, clean and brushed to perfection. What really caught her attention and held taut was the long horn that came from her forehead.
"Oh my..." The filly turned to the side and admired her shiny addition. She noticed a pair of glimmering magenta wings attached to her back that caught the light of day and shone.
Pinkamena's look was one of suprise- and maybe a bit of satisfaction.
"I cannot wait to see the look on Inky's face!" With newfound energy she bounded down the stairs and into the family room, where her stern Mother was standing with her whip. Father was still asleep, as it was a Sunday, and Inky and Blinky had just went outside to play with a new ball Pinkamena had picked up from a Toy Shoppe the day before.
"What do you think, Mother?" Pinkamena lifted her chin and did a cute twirl. Her long tail slapped her Mother's legs. "Arn't I stunning?"
"I think there's a filly in need of a whipping." Her Mother answered sternly, stomping on her daughter's tail as it came back again.
Pinkamena stopped. "Whatever do you mean?" Her eyes expanded. "Don't you see my beautiful wings and horn?" She frowned when her Mother didn't respond.
"I don't see anything but a bruised flank."
Pinkamena the earth pony filly felt like crying. Not once had she when it came to petty things like this.
The filly felt the salty tear roll down her cheek as reality hit her hard. She stood at attention and waited for the crack of the whip on her tender flank.
Even ten years later, Pinkie Pie still pondered questions she thought of in her childhood. Had Rarity, the adorable dressmaker, gone to the Gala? How did the pegasus get it's wings? How had that mirror altered her appearence to the point it made her look like a proud alicorn?
She thought about these questions every day. They never got answered.
Some days she thought of events, some happy and warm but some horrifying and dark. She relived that trip to the small town of Ponyville and the harsh whipping of her Mother. But she didn't blame her- not in the slightest.
Ten years later, Pinkie Pie was simply a filly in a larger body.