Racing through the shadows the masked mare spotted a particularly smelly garbage can and jumped on top of it using it to vault to the roof of the building. Heart racing Velvet Step landed on the roof awash in the newly risen moonlight. After taking a few deep breaths steadying herself she looked to the next building, but before she could leave she realized where she was.
It happened here.
It felt like it had been so long ago that she was surprised the memory hadn't grown dim. What a silly thought, as if she could possibly forget the moment when she realized fully who she was. Gazing down at Sunridge Sweets the wholesome smell of cinnamon rolled over her forcing latent memories to the surface.
It feels like it was only yesterday that I stopped that mad stallion.
Closing her eyes as the tangy scent of lemon enveloped her she remembered.
I have enjoyed dancing for a long time. The joy of leaping about feeling yourself defy gravity one moment then placing oneself at its mercy the next as you spin like a top. The exhilarating rush of practicing a new move than showing it to the ponies you love is an amazing feeling. I've sometimes worked late into the night perfecting a new allegro just so I can appear to effortlessly pull it off to the delight of my friends.
Perhaps surprisingly it wasn't some grand stage performance that got me interested in dancing. Oddly enough it was a book. I say oddly because it was the very first series of books I read that did it. Until that day I hadn't know reading could be fun and not only another school assignment. And it is all thanks to my good friend Crystal Wishes that my eyes were opened. Prima Donna. She was so amazing. The way she gracefully danced across the pages leading me on, making me want to read just one more chapter. At the time, I wasn't sure which part I found more inspiring. The way she wowed ponies in the spotlight or cleaned up the town from the shadows. Either way, the how, her incredibly elegant dance, was what so captivated my attention.
I didn't exactly make a secret about how much I was taken with Prima Donna. It is one thing to talk about a hero of yours, even a fictional one. Sure you might even pretend a little bit that some things you do are really their actions. It is something else entirely to wrap yourself entirely in their persona and look, unable to dismiss the comparisons other ponies might make. I knew one excuse I could use to put on the trappings of my hero. To dance about without looking crazy, Nightmare Night. I had been trying to work up my courage to ask Crystal about Nightmare Night for days. I am embarrassed to admit at the time I didn't think she would want to leave Canterlot for a small town like Ponyville. I was shocked and a bit flabbergasted when Crystal brought up the idea herself to go out on Nightmare Night in costume. I feel bad believing that Crystal wouldn't want to go down to Ponyville, but after she brought up the idea I sprang on it without hesitation.
The evening of Nightmare Night I was brimming with excitement while waiting for Crystal to arrive. I must have spent at least an hour running, jumping, and twirling about the condo. None of the ponies I conjured up could contain me as I deftly spun out of their grasp or leapt over their heads. Occasionally I might even have trounced a few of them with a rapid pattering of hooves until they begged to be forgiven. Just when the Miserly Mare was about to square off for another throw down with me there was a knock-knocking at the door. Leaving behind my vanquished foes I dashed to the door flinging it open to find, no one?
"En garde!"
Crystal really is the best. Not only did she want to go to Nightmare Night, but she had even dressed as Fencer Felon to compliment my costume. I may have squealed in excitement a little at the sight of her coming at me as if she had stepped off the pages of a book but that was nothing compared to the heartfelt joy I was feeling on the inside. After a few minutes of horsing around, we were collected by my mom and headed to Ponyville where I earned this mark beneath my suit.
I was a little, make that very nervous when we finished doing every activity Ponyville had to offer except one, the costume contest. Crystal was having none of that though and insisted we show off our costumes, we did have matching ones after all. Even though I tried to back out a few times Crystal was there every time to reassure me and help laugh away my nerves. No matter what I said she wasn't taking no for an answer. For that I am eternally grateful, Crystal you really are a fantastic friend.
The next thing I knew we were on stage in front of so many piercing eyes. I could smell the press of bodies surrounding the stage and resolutely held my head high. I wasn't sure what we were going to do on stage, strike a few poses, maybe walk back and forth a few times until being told to leave. Before I could start overthinking what to do Crystal reared back and struck a dramatic pose.
"Prepare yourself, Prima Donna!"
The sight, sound, and even the smell of the crowd faded away from me, and I was alone with Crystal on the stage. It was one of the most magical experiences of my life. I ducked and dodged, spinning about the stage while Crystal chased me at every turn. We struck poses and taunted one another all within our own little world. My heart beat faster and faster as I performed increasing strenuous moves, first a Grande Jeté across the stage, then a quick Tour en l'air to reverse my direction. As I closed in on Crystal I was no longer the one being chasing. It felt like a lightning bolt went off in my head and I was Prima Donna, not just a filly pretending for one night a year. Slowly the world faded away and I was back in Ponyville on stage in front of a crowd doing its best to bring down the house with their thunderous cheering.
Now we get to my mistake. All those ponies yelling compliments and telling me what a great dancer I was, some even thinking I had been training for the ballet already. Giddy with excitement we looked to my flank and there it was. A single pink ballet pointe shoe with its ribbons entwined as if climbing an invisible leg. At the time I was ecstatic. Oh, how I wish I could whisper in my younger ear that pictures don't always tell the whole tale.
I might not have been entirely correct about the calling of my cutie mark, but I wasn't completely wrong either. I did and still do love to dance. The feeling of exercising even a minute portion of my talent at first was enough. Days, weeks, and months passed and gradually I started to doubt. I made many new friends such as Azure Dancer and Morning Grace who pushed me while we competed with each other to master our craft. They were and still are good friends, but night after night something was lacking. Even on those special days when we would practice until we were nearly unable to stand on our hooves, the spark I had felt that wonderful night was absent. Confused I redoubled my efforts and through myself into learning and grasping the smallest detail of the most obscure dance moves. It never returned. That elusive feeling of being complete was always just beyond my reach, teasing me from a distance, yet close enough to drive me nearly mad with distraction at times.
I begin to experiment with taking my show on the road so to speak in my quest to capture that surety of purpose. I snuck into different theaters around town thinking that a change of venue might be all it took. The Cloak and Rose, The Sunrise, even the small stage in Ponyville where I first felt that spark. It was a real test of persistence getting into a few of those places. I even had to wait until after dark and go in through a skylight for The Mare and Winter Garden Theater. I was so hopeful for that last one. I felt more alive than I had in weeks jumping and leaping from one perch to another on the way to the top. But even then that missing spark failed to catch.
I pondered and pondered about what was missing from that night back in Ponyville. My next idea was ponies. After all, I had been on stage before the eyes of an entire crowd of cheering ponies that time. That must be what was missing, the adoration of a crowd well pleased. I sought out ponies who performed around town for the enjoyment of the public. I had a great deal of fun learning the art of spontaneously dancing with like-minded ponies for the enjoyment of our fans without the aid of choreography. Those moments when I lost myself to the ebb and flow of the dance concentrating on flying about the stage with power and grace, I felt so close to breaking through and recapturing that spark. But it never came.
As silly as it may sound with hindsight I became so desperate that I even conceived of the idea that it was Crystal specifically who I needed to dance with or have watch me. I set aside an entire evening for Crystal and me, determined to find that lacking spark. Poor Crystal, she really was a good sport, but by this time expecting her to keep up with me for an entire evening was asking too much. She gave it her best and even kept going past the point that her dancing was more like a zompony shuffling across the room. After literally dancing her into or at least onto the floor I let her crawl towards the life-giving strength of the snacks I had brought. Frosted Red Velvet Cupcakes, mom really is the best even when I've been a bit mopey lately.
I admit, at this point, I gave up. Maybe I wasn't ever going to re-experience that feeling of wholeness. I still loved to dance and even if I didn't feel that absent spark it could be enough. How wrong I was.
The night didn't feel special, sure an almost magical glow blanketed the city turning all of Canterlot into a silvery reflection of itself, but that's Canterlot for you. I finished what must have been a brutal practice if Morning's exhausted groans were anything to go by. I honestly couldn't tell the difficulty of one session from another anymore due to all the extra time I had spent around town searching for that missing feeling. I said my goodbyes to the girls and headed to Sunridge Sweets for a post-practice snack. I wonder if mom has any of my favorites left.
As I approached Sunridge Sweets something smelled fishy, and I don't mean Catch'em and Clean'em in the griffon market. I tensed as I noticed that the door to the shop was barely ajar instead of closed for the night. Dad would never forget to close up. Stealthily edging forward I carefully opened the door enough to squeeze through without setting off the bell. The front looked normal enough at first glance, a few leftover sweets were behind the counter. Taking a deep breath I paused, something was wrong after all. It was dark enough that I couldn't make out the labels but I knew where each different dessert went. The smell of chocolate was far too strong in the air to believe my eyes. Somepony had shuffled the extra cupcakes around to the wrong places. Stifling a gasp I froze as a faint rustling sound caused my ears to rotate forward. The pony was still here and they were up to more mischief. Heart rate rising I darted from shadow to shadow towards the source of the noise.
Even before I pushed open the door to our next-day-stock storage room I knew it was a stallion from the masculine smell emanating out of the room. My nose wrinkled as a got a second, fuller, whiff, a real low life if the faint smell of alcohol and stale scent of sweat was anything to go by. Wasting no more time I took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. Pew. That guy stunk. Steeling myself I reared back and bucked the door open with a loud crash.
"Get out of here!", I yelled as I burst into the room.
I must have sounded pretty impressive because I could swear that stallion nearly hit the ceiling in surprise. Now that I was in the room time slowed, I could more clearly smell that loathsome creature and a rush of new information hit me. Oh, how I could smell him. Little details jumped out at me. I could detect the faint rotting stench of a leaf and greens salad he had for breakfast. The barest hint of a lilac perfume confirmed that beyond all odds some mare willingly allowed him in her presence. Rising above all that though was the sharp smell of adhesive radiating from his hooves. I had interrupted him while he was in the middle of swapping the labels on our cake boxes.
The scruffy brown maned stallion turned around towards me, his pale red coat rippling ominously with slabs of muscle, hooves raised in surrender. Hooves he promptly dropped when he saw me.
"You're a whee girl, best be getting home to mama now". He turned back to the shelves slapping a Lemon Fresh Delight label on a Bold Chocolate Surprise box.
I wasn't done, though. Even if he might be talking a big game I knew he was bluffing. I could still smell that he was nervous even if he was pretending otherwise. Bracing, I gathered myself again. "I said, get out of here, now!".
Turning around again I saw his eyes grow hard and detected a subtle change to his scent, he was going to fight after all. The pas de deux began and my pulse pounded in my ears. I realized right away that while he might be built like a brick house he was about as fast as one too. We danced around the room together as if we had practiced in anticipation of this moment for years. I felt alive. Slowly at first then increasing quickly the world started to fall away. It was just the two of us in our own private dance. Over and over he tried to catch me but each time I lithely evaded. Pirouetting aside to avoid his clumsy hooves, bending back nearly in half so he found nothing but empty air. As it became increasingly obvious that he was outclassed he started making more and more desperate attacks. And I felt it, that spark, rekindling deep inside.
Faster and faster we danced. He grabbed cakes off the wall casting them at me, hopelessly trying to bring me low. No matter how hard he tried I was never caught unaware as even with my eyes closed I inhaled the sweet smell of cinnamon and effortlessly dodged aside. With an angry bellow, my partner tried running me down like an angry bull. By this point, it was already over even if he didn't know it yet. My spark was back and had erupted into a roaring blaze. I laughed, joy racing within my heart, I had found it at last. This wonderful feeling of completeness, knowing that this, this was who I am.
For the last time, the Loony Labeler bore down on me like a living avalanche. Waiting until the last moment I held my ground. Closer and closer he came until the putrid smell of his breath was nearly a physical presence. I spun aside and as he raced past I brought my leg down on his back like he was a barre at the studio. Letting out an explosive whuff he crashed to the floor all four legs splaying out and let loose a deep sigh before stilling. I leapt on top of Mt Gag and struck a rather fine arabesque and bowed to my admiring audience. Squealing in delight I pranced about the room undoing the damage all the while euphoric to have finally reignited my lost spark.
As the memory faded I straightened up smelling trouble on the wind. Yes, right there, a freshly lit fire was burning and I could tell that it wasn't in any fireplace. With a quick burst of speed, I was off following my nose to the dance.