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Poets Corner, the proprietor of the popular hangout Corner Books and unofficial poet laureate of Ponyville, has died of natural causes. His wife disappears, unwilling to bear the burden of his death and what it means. With the town in disarray over the recent flooding, very few ponies even bother to attend. Twilight and Rarity, however, are there, and Rarity soon finds that she cannot shake her friend's last admonition.
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That was a beautiful poem and a beautiful story.
Ah, good ole Longfellow! I enjoy that poem, though my favorite from him is probably, "The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls". It is both short and deep, kind of like this story.
Loved your depiction of Rarity here. How she handles the death of Poets feels very... well, for a lack of a better word, human. Anyways, top notch story you have here, glad to have read it.
New words? Rare enough treat from you these days, Cy. Nicely done, if somber.
Should there be a can before guess?
a lot
comma after cared
I fail so often at keeping up with your output.
This one had me waiting, wondering- elements of suspense, almost of horror as you built up to... discussing a poem. Lots of sadness, as usual, but the way you gave the impression of something ominous, combined with the slightly gruesome subject, made me think "Poe" even though I have read hardly anything of his. I did wonder, early on, how Rarity knew exactly how he died. The truth wasn't as dark as I feared, but there's still a definite sense of loss. How do you engender that for a pony who didn't exist before this story, and who passed before it started?
Sad but engaging, as usual. I do love how you voice and characterize Rarity, it's one of the things I like most when I read your work.
4388819 I noticed this typo.
This one should be "it's".
Now content wise, this was engaging. It built up to Rarity's thoughts, with the sentiment that there was indeed more on her mind than she let on. And what human thoughts they were! It's something to wonder. Nice work.
4388819 I am curious. Where did this came from?
I feel like this is a quote, but that is not a translation from what is in the story, nor in the author's note...
This story has a fantastic atmosphere to it. The events and conversation are mundane in themselves, but everything feels significant, meaningful. It's what slice-of-life can be at its best, and I take my hat off to you for writing such a great story. I think I'll have to check out your other work too, now.
4389042 If it helps, the first bit is Shakespeare. The fault is not in the stars but ourselves. I think you moved on to reflect on why before what was full. Do not despair, because I always felt you had the right of it in creation.
I bet this is a question that everyone asks themselves, probably more often than most would be willing to admit, creators even more often than others, perhaps.
I think this story is the best answer to that question I have ever seen. This is utterly wonderful.
You forgot a letter in "ex nihilo."
Stories about existential crises have never held much appeal for me (besides the one I wrote, however narcissistic that may be), but this one was a fairly nice read. Once you get down to it, Rarity's reasoning makes the source of Rarity's internal conflict pretty interesting. One or both of the SA reviewers said that there isn't really an answer by the end, but I'm not so sure.
Unless I'm missing a layer or two, or missing the point of the story entirely, that looks pretty sufficient to me.
Thanks for sharing the poem.
I think I see what is unshown here. I only wonder whether it's really there or not. If it is, then Rarity saying her existential crisis is really about her love of beauty and creation, is at once misdirection and metaphor. And brilliant.
I like ol' Rarity, so I have double reason to dislike this unshown thing. But I must admit that it's Rarity through and through. As is her way of dealing with it:
So up I got in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad.
And, "One thing there's no getting by —
I've been a wicked girl," said I;
"But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!"
--"The Penitent"
Wait, who said "I doubt it's the same?" I think perhaps a line of dialog went AWOL.
How are you using "gone south" here? It seems like Rarity means the order got cancelled, or was offered to another dressmaker after Rarity had bid, but then you have her talk about "in celebration of victory" and "it feels like winning." So what happened? Looks like something got deleted and the stuff that was left didn't get tweaked to reflect the deletion (I do this a lot).
4845918 "gone south" as in had proved taxing/troublesome, problems popped up, etc. it can mean cancelled there but as I use it I mean more in the line of "things got touch and go"
Very nice. This story wonderfully probed Rarity's character and the process of creation, and I'm finding myself reflecting on all the things she and Twilight talked about. The ending sneaked up on me somewhat, but it didn't detract from my enjoyment. Great work creating an actual slice of life story that lives up to its tag.
Also, a quick heads-up: you seem to be missing an l.
I loved both the story and the poem. Rarity's deliberations are ones I've been struggling with for the longest time. I felt great empathy with her, and even I was left wishing to know too what that old stallion would have said to her. Losing purpose in what one does is a difficult, difficult thing to take in and prevail over. Maybe it sounds silly of me to say, but I found the stallion's vehemence arousing. Thank you for writing this story.
That was nice. Rather slow, but that's the kind of story it was. You hit the tone head on with this one. I'm glad I had put this in my ril.
5359236 Really glad you liked it!
5359439
I'm not usually into 'character talks to other character and that's the whole story' stories (like Jack London's shorts), but this one flowed rather well. Probably because you kept it brief. Also, I loved Rarity's fall backs on the wine and whatnot when she wasn't sure what to say. Wonderful bits of characterization.
This is some beautiful, deep stuff.
img06.deviantart.net/b0ec/i/2015/268/2/2/at_the_beach_by_hillbe-d9aua2g.jpg
I have to admit it that I read it as "pooped" as first, and my reaction certainly wasn't... normal.
There's a creeping, intense dread in this story. The long I read, the more I felt that something awful was going to be revealed. Not surprising, in a story where mortality (and all it implies) is a central theme, but surprising in that there wasn't any specific payoff for the dread, no moment where everything comes to a crest. It makes sense: existential dread is a creeping thing. And the ending, while not what I would call happy, does speak of hope—hope of living to the fullest despite it all.
I can't read many of these sorts of stories too often, because of how they make me feel, but this one did a good job making me feel that way. Also, you really must stop making me read all these excellent poems. I'm starting to like it.
This reminds me of that one CiG story, with the urn discovered in the library.
So beautiful. And yes, it seemed to be heading to something sinister. I'm so glad it didn't end that way.
9314340
not so much sinister as either untoward/kinda tragic, depending on how you read a few things.