Dixie Lulamoon by Pandora
The sunlight hurts my eyes.
I roll out of bed and my hooves fall onto the worn carpeting below, intricate patterns in the material long since disappeared, dead branches of a lifetime filled with wonder, joy, and sorrow. I cough, forcing air into and out of my lungs as I blink quickly. Tattered curtains hang like fallen angels against a backdrop of gray, the open window blowing them about and leaving them alone long enough to slowly fall back down.
My mind wanders back to the brighter days of the past. My older sister was always somepony I looked up to, somepony I trusted with my life. Her commitment to her magic arts was like none other I had ever seen before, traveling all across Equestria in search of ponies who would pay to see her perform. My sisters and I… we always supported her. Whenever her act was anywhere near Hoofington, we’d go see her shows, congratulating her afterwards and giving her praise. Whenever she was home we would stay up well into the night, trading stories and tales of her adventures while she pressed into the realm of our own lives, wanting to know everything we had been up to over the weeks or months she was gone. Whenever she left, my other sisters and I would be teary-eyed, wondering when we would see her again. She always stuck to a schedule. Trixie was like that.
My mother, however… wasn’t very supportive of her traveling show. Naturally, she wanted her eldest daughter to go into a “nobler” profession, even though she hadn’t been one to do very much with her own life, anyway. More often than not when Trixie was home she would berate her in front of us, making sure to tear her apart for missing this family event or this celebration. Her lectures and nitpicks would eventually begin evolving into shouting matches between the two of them, and one night she up and left without saying goodbye to my mother.
At least she made sure to tell us that she was leaving, the yellowed note that still hung attached to my dusty, cracked bedroom mirror was enough to remind me of that….
“Be back in fourteen days. Need to blow off some steam, traveling to a few towns in the south. T.”
When she didn’t come back, my mother blamed herself. We blamed her, too. When our father disappeared after one too many arguments about my mother’s drinking habits, we blamed her then. Naturally, the same happened with our eldest sister. For the couple of days after Trixie didn’t come home, my mother spent most of her time at the local bar.
We didn’t care until we came home to find her hanging from a rope made of her own bedsheets, swinging limply from a beam in her own closet, her chair kicked over to the side.
That’s when we knew we were alone. We assumed it was suicide; the evidence was obvious. The police ruled the death the same way, taking away the body for more examination even as my youngest sister, Charm, tried her hardest to keep them from taking our mother from us, her tears mixing with the water on the damp pavement underhoof.
Without a father, without a mother, without an older sister… the commitment to keep my siblings safe fell to another family, two new ponies to take care of the three of us. Maple Basket and Opal Crest, a duo of incredibly nice ponies who gladly took us into their home.
We were able to continue going to school, saving up money on our own so that we would be able to go to University once we graduated high school. I was nine the year mom died, while Jinx and Charm were eight and seven, respectively. We weren’t ready for the push and pull of emotion in our daily life that would ebb and flow continuously day by day; from simple, unobtrusive memories to choking back sobs in our school cafeteria. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt real for the first few months.
“Dixie,” my middle sister Jinx had asked as she offered her plate to me, “you need to eat some more.” I had shaken my head, managing a smile as I pushed her plate back towards her, our conversation isolated in the veritable cacophony of the school lunchroom.
“No thanks,” I responded, forcing a smile that I knew my eyes betrayed. “You need it more than I do.” Jinx looked at me for a moment longer, mouthing unintelligible words that I knew she wanted to say. Soon enough she looked back down to her food and continued eating, slower than before. Not the time or place.
That was two years ago. Some things have gotten better since then… some things have gotten worse. The carpet on which I stand was a remnant of that same house, the only surviving memory of my mother and father that I own other than a few family photographs scattered around the house. Most of these are located in my sisters’ rooms however; all I need is this old carpet to remember my parents by. Maple Basket and Opal Crest have provided us with everything we need, my clothes fitting better on my growing body than ever before. Our home is comfortable, our food is warm, but I know that it’s not what any of my siblings or I want. We want to be back with our parents. We want Trixie to come home.
I, personally, suspect it is because of the lingering memories of Trixie. But all three of us know that she’s not coming back….
It was two Mondays ago when we heard the news. My sisters and I were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying breakfast while Opal engaged his wife in conversation from across the room. The normality of the entire morning hung over me, a dark blanket of feathers ready to fall at any moment, their lead insides crushing my heart as soon as a few sharp knocks sounded on the door.
“I’ll get it,” Maple said, straightening up and untying the apron she wore around her chest. She quickly trotted towards the door and pulled down on the doorknob with a wing as I gestured for my siblings to continue eating.
A police officer stood in the doorway, and I tilted my head to the side to look behind Maple as I saw two more waiting on the path up to our house.
“Ah…” she dumbly mumbled, “good morning, officer, how can I help you?” The officer glanced at a sheet of paper he held in his magical aura off to the side, taking a deep breath.
“Are you Mrs. Maple Basket?” he asked, looking past her at the kitchen table. I continued eating my food, turning my head slightly to keep all three of the officers in my sight. Maple nodded and the main officer swallowed heavily. I could see something in his eyes, an emotion I knew all too well from days upon days of staring in the mirror, waiting for Trixie to return and this nightmare to be over.
“Are all of the Lulamoon children present…?” he trailed off, as if unsure what to say. Maple nodded and Opal moved beside her, an air of confusion evident in the way she held herself.
“Yes, they are,” Opal said, voice laced with the sour tang of worry. I tapped my hoof on the ground a couple times—although I only meant to tap once—and stood up from the table. Jinx and Charm came to either side of me, as we trotted to the door as well, pushing past our foster parents into the gray day outside.
“We…” the officer cleared his throat. “We have news on the whereabouts of your sister, Trixie.” My heart leapt and a smile broke across my face.
“You found her?!” I exclaimed, turning to both of my sisters and seeing the looks of both surprise and joy adorning their countenances, although their eyes showed signs of something much darker as they continued to look at the officer. My smile died on my lips, the warmth radiating from my happiness slowly turning to an icy ache. “Is… is she alright?” A tear ran down the side of the officer’s face as he turned away for a moment, wiping it with the back of his hoof.
“No…” the officer started. “She’s… she’s dead.”
Jinx choked back a sob and the officer moved his gaze to behind us, presumably looking at my foster parents.
“... dead?” Charm asked, looking at Jinx and I with wide eyes. “What does he mean…?”
“Charm…” I started, slowly moving towards her and placing a hoof on her shoulder. “Trixie… Trixie’s not coming back, little sister.”
Charm stepped back, looking between the officer and me quickly. A breath caught in her throat and she choked, coughing before straightening up. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the officer.
“No,” she started, a tear betraying her rage. “No, you’re wrong. You’re wrong, she’s coming back. Trixie’s coming back….”
I wrapped her into a hug just as she began to quietly sob.
My world shattered into a billion pieces, the glittering remains of a time long passed flying away from me as I desperately tried to grab onto anything I could in the endless ocean of sorrow that instantly gripped my heart.
A drop of pure despair fell to the floor, followed by another. Soon enough I was holding onto Jinx for dear life as well as she bawled into my chest, her heavy sobs wracking her body as her hooves dug into my back. The three of us were left on the porch in our circle of consolation as our foster parents followed the police officer out of earshot to speak privately. I didn’t care what they were talking about. All I knew was that Trixie would never again be part of my life, and right then the most important thing was consoling my younger siblings.
For more than six years we didn’t have a father, for more than three years we didn’t have a mother. But all along we had held onto the last glimmering sliver of hope in our hearts, longing for our oldest sister to return home. In less than a second however, that sliver of hope was gone, reduced to ashes and swept away by a red-tinged cloud of denial, despair, heartache and death.
A few hours later my sisters, foster parents, and I were seated in the police station, flanked on either side by officers who were trying their best to console us. I still hadn’t shed a single tear. To this day I haven’t. I hate myself for it.
Jinx hadn’t stopped crying, even as we looked through the identification images of our sister, mother, and father. They were all dead. All three of them were never coming back, never going to tuck me or my other siblings into bed, never going to laugh with us when we made up a funny pun, never going to cry tears of joy when we got an award, never to hold our hoof as they drifted into the realm beyond the way they should have.
But their lives were stolen from them, as we very quickly came to know.
By none other than the Element of Generosity herself, Rarity. To this day, none of my siblings or I can say her real name, but instead refer to her with utter contempt as The Ponyville Butcher. Three of my family members met their demises to the hooves of this mare….
When we held the memorial service for my sister and father last night, I spoke. I said everything that had been eating away at me ever since my father’s disappearance more than seven years ago. How I had gone from confusion, to denial, to longing, to anger, to loneliness, and then to complete and utter acceptance that he was never coming back. That he would never grace our family with his protecting presence ever again. That we would never feel the joy of welcoming him back into the house after he returned from another long business trip.
I was only five. I was only five.
Jinx cried. Charm shut her eyes and tried to block out the world. And I talked. I rambled on and on, longer than I ever thought I could address any one group of ponies about the same thing. I went on tangents, talking about how amazing my sister was, about her caring spirit, about how she was always there for my family and supported us in any way she could, even until her last weeks with us. She was only in her mid twenties. That was no time for a mare with as much energy as her to die.
We’ve tried not to think about The Ponyville Butcher and what she did to our family. We try to block it from our memory, not think about the irreplaceable damage she caused us and so many other families like ours. But as I watch the gray curtains flap lazily in the open window and feel the crisp autumn air grace my coat, I find myself thinking back to all the best memories I had with my family. Trixie teaching me how to use magic, my mother combing my hair and dressing me up for my first day of school, my father reading to my siblings and I every night before bed….
We miss them so much. I miss them so much.
“... Dixie?”
The small voice disturbs me from my reverie and I turn to face the doorway where Charm is standing, rubbing at her leg with a hoof. Her eyes are red and puffy and I feel a pang of sadness in my heart as I stare at her face. She looks past me and out the window with a forlorn gaze, as if there was something beautiful beyond those clouds, but the ephemerality of her vision is tainted as I finally answer.
“Yeah, Charm?”
She turns to look at me, her lip quivering.
“Do you think… do you think they’re in Paradise?”
I lower myself to my haunches and gesture for Charm to come to me, opening my arms as she runs into my embrace. My forelegs instinctively wrap around her teenage body, slowly brushing at her mane as she burrows herself into my chest.
“Oh… Charm…” I start, feeling my heart get caught in my throat. I hold my sister tighter and lean down, nuzzling her cheek gently as she begins to cry. “I know they are. I know they are.”
Outside the wind blows harder and I close the windows with my magic, bringing a loud silence to the room that is only broken by my sister’s heavy sobs.
“I know they are.”
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Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about this universe! So glad that one guy at Everfree NW introduced me to this story.
(If you're reading this—you know who you are, we met after the panel with ocalhoun, Horse Voice, and others—hit me up man)
EDIT: Oh snap, featured!
Well, it's great to see that you updated one of your older fics
6066391 I'm almost 3000 words into a Shadow Hangs Overhead update, too. I'm so close!
Dam, been a while since I read on of your stories, its interesting to remember back when this was just getting started.
Man this hit me hard, Trixie is my 2nd favorite pony so her death is one of the few that really hit me, this makes that death hit even harder
.
6067224
For some reason I'm best at writing heartbreakingly sad stories. Sorry ;-;
6067356 Nothing to forgive, Bronywriter killed her, all you did was give Trixie an interesting/nice family which is what makes it so sad that her family had to go through what they did because of Trixie's death.
Wow. It's nice to see this series updating again. I have missed the updates to the Killer Rarityverse.
The death of Trixie in the original story is one of the more emotional chapters as it takes the two dimensional character and finds a way to redeem her even as she dies on Rarity's table. This short story continues to flesh out the emotions of her family in a believable fashion, making me relate with their family and the important position that Trixie held in their lives. Good work Pandora!
6087513
Thank you! <3
The sunlight hurts my eyes...
*thinks of Dubstep immediately*
Interesting to see the myriad ways Rarity's actions... well, rippled across Equestria.
Author, you're still alive? I found the Secret Life of Rarity from A Shadow Hangs Overhead, and after reading the trilogy and its AU, I'm struck with feels everywhere!
But that's besides the point, are you still accepting stories into this anthology?
6906064 I am.
6906170 Oh um... is it possible to enter a small chapter still?
6906185 Totes, as long as I can edit it.
6906258 Hmm... is there anything I should know about this before I think about writing as such using characters only within the universe?
6906334 Such as?
6907162 anything important to you such as characters, time, location, etc.
6907401 It's a pretty fluid thing. Write up your chapter (or chapters. Do as many as you'd like) and if anything doesn't gel, we'll talk about it.
6908303 This... doesn't really explain much... okay, maybe I should be specific... I wanted to know if I can do these below me.
sorry if I'm being not understandable here, but I just want to be certain sometimes... :twilightsheepis:h
How do I send a story to you?
6936364 for one you want to write for this? PM me a gdoc
6936393 Ok. I plan to write one, but not for a little bit until I get the story fleshed out.