Memoirs of a Blank Flank

by SakuraSama

Journal Entry One

4th of Spring, 7 PM

Those doctors in Canterlot General don't know anything. My poor mother spends so much money for all these visits, and nothing's helping! I honestly don't know why I even keep going to see Dr. Helping Hoof at all. What's more, he even wants me to start keeping this lame journal. I honestly just don't see the point! I mean, it's not like writing's going to make my cutie mark appear!

I guess, if nothing else, I can put everything out on paper. Perhaps then I can make some sense of all of this.

I suppose I should start with the basics. My name is Hidden Talent and next week I'll be 27 years old. I'm about average height for a stallion. While I'm not quite as statuesque as my father Best Talent was, at least I still managed to inherit his impressively sized horn and penchant for all kinds of magic. I admit I don't remember as much about my father as I'd like, since he died when I was quite young. The moments I do remember of him are good, though.

My mother, Hidden Beauty, has an unfortunate name that doesn't refer to her outside features at all. She is, in fact, quite lovely, both inside and out. Her name refers to her cutie mark and her talent in using her magic to restore objects and artifacts.
After Best died, my mother did everything she could to make sure I had the best of everything. She even went to far as to join an adventurer's guild, to give herself easier access to ancient treasures she could restore and sell for loads of bits.
I remember her being gone for long periods of time when I was a very young colt, but before long she would return, bits in hoof, willing to buy me anything my little heart desired. Her restoration business was quite lucrative, making it easy for her to live off of her income and support a growing colt by herself.

Though both of my parents are both of rather soft pastel color schemes, everyone was surprised at my deep cobalt fur and dark navy mane. My mother proudly compares my look to that of Princess Luna, which is in equal parts flattering and embarrassing. Even if it IS Princess Luna, I don't really like the idea of my mother thinking of me as a mare. I mean, I have a little pride a stallion. I would look a great deal more like the Moon Princess, if not for my vivid fuchsia eyes.

I'm not ashamed of my look, but I wish I didn't stand out so much sometimes. Ponies in Canterlot are not afraid to blatantly stare. I know that for a fact.

I guess I do keep my mane a bit long, but I think my square jaw and larger horn make it hard for anypony to mistake me for a filly anytime soon. I would trim it, but since I don't go out much except for doctor visits, it seems like a wasted effort. Besides, a short mane really doesn't suit me.

I live in Canterlot Heights with my mother (at least until I decide I'm ready to go back to school). Not that I hated school or anything, mind you. If anything, it was the best time of my life. I attend Princess Celestia's School for Talented and Gifted Unicorns, just like Starswirl the Bearded, the Great and Powerful Trixie and Twilight Sparkle. Or at least I used to attend, until the nightmares and stress overcame me. Eventually it got to where I couldn't sleep at night, and was nodding off in all of my classes. My grades took a plummet, and that only drew more attention to the fact something was wrong.

Even now, I don't really know how it all happened. My lack of a cutie mark was never really an issue for me before. Now a day hardly passes without me mourning the loss of my future and everything I hold dear because I am a FREAK. A fully grown BLANK FLANK. Dr. Helping Hoof tells me not to say such things, "to avoid negativity" and "find peace in my current situation". That, and that "I must believe to succeed".

Well, forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm.

I want to believe that there is still time, that I'm not very sick, cursed or something. That I will wake up tomorrow with my ridiculously late but equally ridiculously awesome cutie mark on my flanks. I'm not even sad to say that any inkling of that hope died a long time ago. It died years ago in that classroom, when I couldn't handle the stares and jeers of my peers and even some of my professors.

The questions and comments were innocent enough at first -- "You just have to wait," my so-called friends would say without so much as a thought-- "I'm sure you'll get your cutie mark eventually." Later it was always, " Is there something wrong with you?" and "Are you contagious?" My only eventuality was that I would never have a Cute-ceañera, and that I would be mocked publicly by my own classmates. I hate to even think about what happened.

Not that I could really blame them. If I had my cutie mark, I most likely would have done the same.

Wow, only my first entry and I've already depressed myself. Maybe I'll have a brighter outlook after a hot meal and some sleep. Maybe I could ask mother if she would see if the market has the new Great and Powerful Trixie Comics available! I'm sure that would cheer me up at least. Perhaps I'll try writing again tomorrow.

Signed,

Hidden Talent

Author's Note:

Tell me what you think!

Comments

[Piano pony]

You did great considering everybody who read it gave it a thumbs up. I can't wait for more to come out You keep writing, I'll keep reading

[SakuraSama]

3645044 Thanks for the comment! I'll do my best!