Those Who Live Forever
When Delores was a young thing, years and years ago, she asked her father why only Princess Celestia could live forever.
Her father had smiled. “Everyone lives forever, little girl,” he said. “In big ways, in little ways. Everyone lives forever.”
Delores had wondered about that. She would have asked him more, once she built up the courage, but her father died abruptly, before he could grow as old and comfortable as he deserved. So Delores grew without him. Wrinkles came, and gray hairs. But she didn’t wear makeup, and she didn’t dye her mane. Her only armor was a pale blue knitted shawl. It was just enough.
Walking down the crowded street in the crowded city, Delores kept that shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Canterlot. The city was always too cold for her. The wind, she thought, waiting for a green light at a crosswalk, the buildings funnel in this awful wind. She usually kept away from cities.
The light flashed green, and Delores crossed the street with the rest of the mob.
But this visit was worth the wind. This visit was very important.
Soon Delores found the address she was looking for. The walls were white marble, adorned with decorative plates and slivers of gold. Above the door, in blindingly polished letters: Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.
Any quiet disdain Delores might have had for such extravagance was quickly smothered by the dragons flapping in her stomach. She gathered herself, straightened her shawl, and, with some difficulty, pushed open the heavy glass doors.
The silence inside was almost as cold as the wind. Delores stepped into the deserted, cavernous room, a cave hewn from an ivory cliff face. Plastic potted plants sat tastefully by waiting benches. And across the room was a desk, above which a sign declared “Registrar.”
Delores walked across the wide floor, the clack of each hoofstep bouncing off the walls, phantom gunshots. At the desk, no one. Delores lifted her hoof and rang the silver service bell. The crystalline ringing died slowly on the air, and she waited.
There was a clatter of hoofsteps from around the corner. A smiling face appeared – a white earth pony, her business suit as tasteful as the plastic plants.
“Hello there, ma’am!” said the earth pony, taking a seat behind her desk. “Sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?”
Delores read the mare’s name-tag: Hello! My name is Miranda.
“Thank you,” said Delores. “I’m here to enroll my daughter April in your school.”
“Very good,” said Miranda, gathering some papers. “Do you have an application?”
“Right here,” said Delores, producing a manila folder containing all the necessary documents. She passed it to Miranda, who opened it and began a systematic evaluation of its contents.
“Application, birth records,” she muttered, “personal essay, previous schooling… Oh, I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t see a recommendation here.”
“… Recommendation?”
“All applying students are required to submit at least one recommendation from a teacher or tutor – “
“Yes, yes, I know, it should be there, it’s written by a Mr. Cribbs, he was April’s personal magical instructor. I’m positive it’s there, I must have checked a dozen times this morning.”
Frowning, Miranda began examining each paper again. “Cribbs, Cribbs…” At last, her eyes lit up. “Ah, yes, right here! R. W. Cribbs. I’m sorry, ma’am, I must have missed it.”
“That’s all right,” said Delores, willing her heart beat slower. “Is there anything else?
“Just sign your name on this clipboard, ma’am, and I’ll enter your daughter into the system.”
Delores dutifully accepted the pen and paper offered her, and scratched out Delores Cloud on the empty line.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Miranda, taking back the pen and paper. “We’ll contact you with a date for April’s entrance exam in the next six to twelve weeks.”
Delores paled.
“You can expect your results,” Miranda went on, stowing the signed paper in a blue file, “at some point three to five weeks after the examination. Thank you, and have a good day.”
Delores cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I… I think there’s been a miscommunication. I’m here to sign up my daughter for the entrance exams at the end of this month. A week from tomorrow.”
Miranda gazed at Dolores, her plaster smile flaking.
“A week from tomorrow, ma’am?” she said. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t any – ” Suddenly, she seemed to have a realization. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry – those exams have been cancelled. You see, the school’s available spots filled up unusually quickly this year. Only one spot remains open. Our final entrance exams have been held across this week; the last one is tomorrow morning. I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s far too late to add in any new exams this year. But I’d be happy to sign you up for an exam in the next six to twelve weeks, for enrollment next year.”
Next year.
“Miss, uh… Miranda, is it? Miranda. Certainly, I would happily enroll my daughter in your school for next year. However, by next year, April will be eleven years old. And your school does not accept applicants over ten years of age. It’s very important that April is enrolled for this year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am, I truly am. But there’s nothing I can do.”
Delores stared at the mare behind the desk, her mouth dry, her nostrils flaring.
“My daughter and I,” she said, slow and deliberate, “are not from Canterlot. We’ve come a very long way to take your entrance exam. Tell me how, exactly, we could have known that the exam dates were changed, with over two hundred miles between us and your school? We most certainly could not have known. That in mind, you will please make an exception for my daughter, who is more than qualified to attend your distinguished school of magic.”
The desk pony had the audacity to offer a placating smile, and Delores’s stomach churned.
“Ms. Cloud,” said Miranda, in an attempt at a soothing tone, “I’m so sorry that you weren’t able to double check the exam schedules. But it really is too late to make an exception. We need at least a week to put the paperwork through. No pony is treated as a special case – ”
“Read the papers in that file I gave you. Tell me that you’ve seen a more accomplished little unicorn than April. Mr. Cribbs served as a professor at this school for six years. You know what he says about April? He’s ‘never seen anything like her.’ His words, not mine. Go on, read it yourself.”
“Ma’am, I don’t mean to be – ”
“Read it, go on, take a good look at the unicorn you’re turning away at the door.”
“Ma’am, as I told you, we can’t make exceptions, no matter how – ”
“Read it.”
The desk pony’s plaster smile was all dust in the wind by now. She sighed, looking down at the manila folder on the desk.
Finally, she looked back up at Delores. “How about this,” she said. “Mr. Cribbs and I were colleagues here for a time. I know that he isn’t exactly liberal with compliments. Tell you what. I’ll hand April’s application over to the admissions office, tell them about your mitigating circumstances. If they have time to review it and come to a decision, I’ll call you tonight and let you know. Where are you staying?”
“The Whiskers Hotel,” said Delores, her heart pounding like a drum under the pressure of hope. “Here, let me write down the number…”
Miranda produced a notepad and pencil, and Delores wrote the number.
“Thank you, Ms. Cloud,” said Miranda, smile re-sculpted. “I’ll contact you as soon as I get word back from admissions. Thank you, and have a good day.”
Delores nodded. “Yes, thank you…”
When Delores stepped back into the streets, the wind almost seemed warm. Almost.
While April Cloud waited in her hotel room for her mother to get back, she redecorated.
The wallpaper, once a placid beige, had been replaced by an expanse starry purple sky, so real you could almost feel the cool night breeze. Where once had been a firm brown carpet was now a sheet of glassy, translucent blue, the frozen surface of a silent sea. And the small window had been so greatly enlarged, it took up the entire wall, a sight beautiful and dangerous and exciting.
Delores opened the door and looked around. She smiled.
How does she do it? she thought. Where did this magic come from? Not from me, I can hardly lift up a phone book with this useless old horn of mine. Not her father.
April’s father was a pegasus. His work required travel; his bags were always half-packed. And on the day April was born, he packed up those bags and went travelling. And never came back.
Up, up, and away, thought Delores, the memory a razor-thin barb in her brain.
But one thing was absolutely clear to her. If April was allowed an entrance exam, she would pass.
At the foot of the queen-sized bed, Delores saw that her little interior decorator had built herself a pillow fort. She could see the flashlight shining inside. It’s bizarre, Delores thought. Magic enough to change the world, and when all is said and done, April can be found in a pillow fort.
Delores walked to the fort. “Sweetie,” she said, “I’m home.”
“Hi, Mom!” came a voice from deep inside the velvety labyrinth. “How’d it go?”
“Can I come in?”
“Yup, be careful.”
Delores, with some effort, got down on the floor and poked her head into the fort’s front entrance. Inside sat April, a flashlight in hoof, a stack of textbooks at her side, another open book in front of her.
Delores smiled at her daughter. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“I didn’t want to use magic. It was hard to get the ceiling right. I used a blanket from the closet.”
“I meant the hotel room, sweetie.”
“Huh? Oh, it was really brown and boring. Do I have to put it back?”
“… No, not yet, it can stay until we leave.”
April’s grin was brighter than her flashlight. “Thanks, Mom!” she said. “I’ve been studying, too, getting ready for next week. Well, just now I was reading Daring Do, but I was getting bored again… Mom?”
Delores realized her eyes were glazing, mind, drifting. She came back.
“April,” she said, “can you come out here for a second?”
April’s grin was immediately swallowed up. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no, no, just… Come on out, little girl, let’s talk.”
Delores removed her head from the fort entrance. She stood and sat on the edge of the bed. Slowly, April emerged after her. Delores patted the empty spot next to her. April sat. She looked up at her mother, eyes probing and cautious.
Delores swallowed and began. “April,” she said. “I want to talk to you about the exam.”
April was silent, unblinking.
“You see,” Delores went on, “I went to sign you up today, to drop off all those papers, just like we planned… and there were some problems.”
Still silence from April. Delores plunged ahead.
“The entrance exams next week have been cancelled, but. I spoke with the mare at the registrar, and they might be able to work out something special for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The exam might be a little sooner than we expected, sweetie.”
“When?”
Delores took a breath. There was no other way to say it, except to just say it.
“Tomorrow morning,” she said.
Delores saw the dawning fear in April’s eyes, and she quickly kneeled down on the floor in front of her daughter, taking April’s hooves in hers.
“And if the exam is tomorrow,” said Delores, “I know that you will absolutely blow those proctors out of the water. Everyone is going to see that my little girl is the best in the world.”
April’s lower lip began to quiver. “I was… I was going to use this week to study…”
“Oh, I know, I know, sweetie,” said Delores, stroking April’s hooves, trying to comfort her with eyes alone. “I’m so sorry, I am. You’re going to have to be very brave, and I know you can do it, no silly exam is going to keep you out of the school of your dreams.”
April’s eyes were liquid. She tried to speak, failed. She tried again. “Mommy, listen,” she said, her voice wavering, “if I… if I take it tomorrow, and I… I don’t get in… it’s all okay, I can go back with you to the diner, I can help you run it, just you and me, and you can teach me how to be a waitress, and… and…” The tears started flowing, the shoulders started shaking.
Delores was instantly beside her daughter, hugging her tightly as the crying began in earnest and the little filly drifted past the strength for words.
“Shh, shhh,” Delores crooned. “Oh, you’re such a good girl, you’re such a good, good girl, everything will be all right, you wait and see…”
They stayed like that for some time.
Finally, April was able to gently pull away from her mother. She sniffled and wiped her nose with a foreleg.
“You know,” she said, her voice a little stronger, “I think about that sometimes. About working at the diner. It would be nice. I like the diner. I like home. Don’t you think it would be nice, working together?”
Delores stared at April. Oh, no, please, don’t even think that, she thought, you’re too young to see it, but I’m getting old, I am old, I haven’t mattered for years, but you, little girl, you matter, you matter more than I ever could.
Delores carefully formed the words. “Of course it would be nice,” she said. “I love you, and I want to see you every day, and I want you to be my little girl forever. But do you know what I want even more? For you to follow your dreams, to do what you want to do, not just what you think you have to do. And I’ll do whatever I have to, to help you make those dreams come true. Okay?”
April started sniffling again. Delores smiled her most convincing smile.
“Okay?” she said again.
April nodded.
“Good, good. I know that this is hard… Hey, how about we order room service tonight? Anything you want. We can have dessert first.”
April wiped her eyes again. “Mommy, can you help me with something?”
“Of course, honey, anything at all.”
“Can… Can you help me study? I have flashcards… It’s easier with someone to help…”
“I’d love to. Where are they?”
“In the fort with my books.”
“You stay right here, I’ll get everything.”
Delores crawled back into the pillow fort, careful not to accidentally knock anything down, and found the flashcards tucked inside one of the books. She crawled out again, books and flashcards with her, silently damning Celestia for forcing an exam like this on such young little ponies.
She put the books and the flashcards up on the bed. April started sorting everything into neat piles. Delores waited to help.
And then the phone rang.
The next day was warmer. Sunny, cloudless blue. The violent Canterlot winds had turned gentle or vanished. On such a day, Delores could almost concede that the city was beautiful.
The Clouds left their hotel at ten in the morning, to bring April to her entrance exam.
It had been a challenge, getting April to bed at a reasonable hour – she’d been determined to spend every spare second practicing spells and memorizing formulas. But soon enough she was asleep, and now Delores led her by the hoof through the streets of Canterlot, both of them well-rested and marching headlong into the future.
Every now and then, Delores would feel a pull on her hoof as April slowed down, eyes washing over everything, the highest windows of the towers, the mail-ponies flashing through the air, the smells of fresh-baked pies from strategically unlatched bakery windows.
“What do you think?” asked Delores.
April’s face clouded for a moment, lost in deathly serious contemplation. Then she nodded. “I’d like to live here,” she concluded.
“Why’s that? The buildings? They’re something, aren’t they?”
“I like that there are lots of ponies.”
“Ah. Lots of friends to make, huh?”
“Mm-hm.”
They turned a corner, and over the crowd Delores could see the roof of the examination building – thatched gold, adorned with a decorative sun, shining like a beacon in the early morning light.
“Well,” said Delores, “you’ll get to start by living in one of the school dorms. Then, if you like it – who knows? Canterlot’s a great place, as cities go… After school, you can do anything you want.”
“You really think so?”
“My April, the most talented little unicorn in the world? Of course, sweetie.”
And I’ll get to watch, Delores thought. That’s the pleasure of a mother. To watch. To watch you do anything you want, and be happy, and have the life I never –
BOOM.
The ground shook. Windows rattled. Ponies screamed. April let out a shriek.
Unthinking, Delores scooped up her baby in her arms as the throngs rushed about her in a panic, her eyes darted, trying to master the confusion, see what was going on –
A stillness settled. All eyes were fixed on the roof of the examination building. Delores looked up.
Rising from a crater in the roof was the head of an enormous purple dragon. Shards of twisted gold littered the streets like so much used-up tinfoil. Dust muted the senses. The dragon’s catlike green eyes gazed dumb and lidless into the distance.
As a rainbow caught fire in the sky overhead, deep inside, Delores felt something go out.
Walking back to the hotel that day, April complained about the distractedness of the proctors during her examination. Muttering excitedly to one another, oblivious as April deftly cast invisibility spells, transmutation spells, amniopomorphic spells, all to no effect.
“I did well,” April said, bewildered. “Everything was perfect…”
“Of course you were perfect,” said Delores. “Of course you were perfect, little girl…”
As April and Delores Cloud reached their hotel, somewhere in the shades of their hearts, they both knew.
The day that the Clouds arrived back home, Delores found a babysitter for April and hired a coach.
Ten minutes later, it was parked in her driveway. The pegasus towing it, a charcoal-gray fellow with a near permanent snarl, chewed a cigarette as Delores burst from her front door and hurried down the drive.
“How much to get me to the castle ruins in Everfree Forest?” she called.
The driver looked stunned for an instant, then laughed. “Look, lady,” he said, “I mostly do local distances, and besides, I’m not about to risk my – ”
Delores reached into her purse and produced a sack of coins. “Seventy bits,” she said, offering the sack. “And more on the return trip. Can you get me back in twenty four hours?”
The driver blinked at the sack, the cigarette falling from his mouth.
The night was deep and dark by the time the coach arrived at what was left of the castle’s front gates. After a bumpy landing, Delores clambered out of the coach and made her way inside. Broken pillars loomed like sentinels. Delores tried to ignore them and succeeded.
“Hey, lady!” cried the driver. “How long you gonna be?”
“Not long,” she called back, voice bouncing off the pillars and crumbling walls. “Not longer than an hour. Wait for me if you want the other seventy.”
Delores ventured further in without waiting for a reply.
The night was moon bright, and the expansive holes in the roof were more than enough to light her way. She stumbled over rotted carpets and carefully maneuvered around loose rubble, well aware that if she sprained an ankle and got lost in this gothic maze, the driver outside would almost certainly lose his nerve and leave, if he had to wait for too long.
It wasn’t long before she found the books.
I’ll get April another exam. I don’t care how, I’ll get her another exam. And this time she won’t be ignored, just because someone else had a lucky morning.
Delores began reading book titles. Some were written in completely unfamiliar languages. Some left heaps of dust on the floor when she opened them, the pages ground down by the weight of the years. But some were promising. Books on obscure magical spells, essays on incantation, spell-casting technique. These, Delores stowed in her purse until she was panting with the effort of lugging it around.
She knew that her time was almost up. Was this enough? Would this help?
Suddenly, a glint of light caught her eye. Delores looked up and saw a handsomely bound brown leather tome, decorated with metal that gleamed like copper, or bronze. By far, it was the best preserved book she’d come across yet.
The book was three shelves up, and Delores couldn’t reach past the second, even standing on her hind legs. She searched for a ladder, a table to stand on, a chair, something, but there was nothing, only ruins and books.
Delores stood below the leather book, staring up, knowing that she would regret it forever if she didn’t bring it home.
She sighed, closed her eyes, and turned her thoughts to magic.
Her horn began to pulse with a faint, irregular, colorless light. The book remained still. Delores concentrated, eyes squeezing, breathing fast.
Come on, she thought, just this once, let it be easy, just this once, please, let me use magic, let me get this book…
She could feel her limbs beginning to tremble.
Fshh… The sound of scraping leather above her. An inch, maybe more.
Please… Please…
“Hello.”
Delores gasped, her eyes flew open, her horn winked out. She whirled around.
A figure stood atop a mound of rubble, framed by a hole in the gray stone wall. Tall as the sky, strong as the earth. Her coat, a white so pure, it might have been woven out of light. Her crown, gold, her gaze, silk. Princess Celestia.
Delores knew she ought to kneel, but she could only stare.
The princess didn’t notice Delores’s lapse in etiquette – or pretended not to – and descended from the rubble to meet the pony in the blue knitted shawl.
“I’m sorry to frighten you,” she said. “Truthfully, I’m a little surprised, too. May I know your name?”
Delores swallowed. “I, um… Ms. Cloud, Your Highness, Ms. Dolores Cloud.”
“A very lovely name, Ms. Cloud. What brings you to my old home?”
“I was… There were… For books, Your Highness.”
It occurred to Delores that taking books from Celestia’s abandoned home might be considered looting, or even outright theft. She held her breath.
“What a coincidence,” said the princess, her smile achingly beautiful. “So am I.”
Princess Celestia walked over to a bookshelf, her hoofsteps so soft that she seemed to glide over the stony floor. Her horn began to glow with the warm firelight of the sun, and a few volumes on the higher shelves flew down from their resting places and formed a neat stack in the air.
“So, Ms. Cloud,” said the princess, examining the books hovering before her, “what sorts of books are you looking for?”
Somehow, when Delores heard that question, she felt a sort of steel in her again.
“Books for my daughter, Princess.”
“Your daughter?” Princess Celestia turned to face Delores. “How wonderful! You’re here to find books for your daughter, and I’m here to find books for my student.”
“… Your student, Princess?”
“Oh, yes. I don’t suppose you’re from Canterlot, Ms. Cloud?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“Ah, then you couldn’t have seen… But the other day, a prospective student for my school of magical studies took her exam. And she is extraordinary, Ms. Cloud. Ponies will be telling tales of that dragon for years!”
Delores felt a stone in her belly. “How remarkable, Princess,” she said. “And no one else has come close to her?”
“This student, I shall tutor personally. Oh, I hope you don't mind me telling you this, Ms. Cloud, I don't mean to gush, but… let us just say that it’s difficult to overstate my excitement.”
Suddenly, the princess’s eyes lit up. “Ah!” she exclaimed, staring over Delores’s head. “There it is.”
Her horn glowed once again, and the leather, copper-studded volume on the third shelf drifted effortlessly through the air, and added itself to Princess Celestia’s stack.
“That seems to be all I need,” said the Princess.
Delores looked up at the empty spot on the shelf, watching the scene as if from another plane of reality.
“Do you need any help getting home, Ms. Cloud? I’d be happy to let you ride in my chariot.”
Delores looked back at the Princess. It took a moment for the question to pierce the haze. “No, thank you, Princess,” she said. “I have a coach waiting.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your business,” said Princess Celestia, turning back to the hole in the wall from whence she came. “Mind your steps, Ms. Cloud; it’s so easy to trip and fall around here.” She began to walk to the wall – and then, almost an afterthought, she turned to Delores again.
“We’ve met each other on a very special day, Ms. Cloud. You will know the name of my student one day. She will do very well, I think. Very well indeed.”
A white ghost, she climbed up the rubble and started to pass through the wall.
“Maybe not, Princess.”
The princess stopped. She turned and looked down, down at the little pony in the blue knitted shawl.
“Maybe things will go wrong. Things often do. Maybe you – and your student – will fall a little short of your dreams. Maybe, Princess, you’ll have to settle. But anyway. I wish you luck, Princess. I wish you luck with your dreams.”
The princess stared. Her eyes were unreadable glass. Silence gnawed at the air.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Thank you, Ms. Cloud.”
Princess Celestia turned again and was gone.
And then, for one broken moment, Delores let herself cry.
The world kept turning, and for the Clouds, the days became difficult to tell apart. The weeks. The years.
One morning, as Delores put up the “Open” sign in the diner window, April tied her apron and stared out over her mother’s shoulder.
“Can you see her?” said April, neck straining, eyes flitting across the pony-peppered street. “I swear I saw her this morning, but there were so many ponies around her, I couldn’t really see.”
“No, I don’t see her,” said Delores, “and if I do see her, my only concern would be whether or not she’s hungry enough to stop by.”
April laughed and returned to setting the booths. “Mom, I get it, you’re not impressed. But this is a big deal! Who knows? She might never set hoof in this town again after today.”
Delores watched her daughter. April was taller than her by now. She wouldn’t stop growing. Either that, or Delores wouldn’t stop shrinking.
“Mm.” Delores headed back to the kitchens. She did a lot of the cooking nowadays. Sometimes teenage ponies would apply for part time positions, but by and large, it was just Delores and April. And they made do.
Before she could push open the door, Delores heard a gasp and a clatter of silverware.
Instantly she was hurrying back to April. “What’s the matter?”
April was staring out the window, eyes wide, smile wider. “I see her,” she breathed, “she’s right there, she’s coming this way, she’s – oh, Mom, she’s coming to the door.”
Delores glanced out the window. Hm. So she was.
April turned to her mother, something dancing behind her eyes. “Mom,” she said, “I figured that maybe you might want to, but, do you think, maybe, that I could – you know, that I could serve her?”
Delores looked at her daughter.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
April nodded. “A little.”
Delores smiled. “Good. That means you care. Of course you can serve her, sweetie. I’ll be right in the back, okay? Come get me if you need anything.”
“Okay… Here we go…” April smoothed her apron and took deep breaths as her mother disappeared back into the kitchen.
From the back, Delores watched the door with hawk-like intent through the serving window. Soon enough, the door swung open with a jangle of bells. In stepped a tall purple mare. An alicorn mare. Princess Twilight Sparkle.
The princess and April started speaking, but Delores couldn’t hear them from the back. She watched. April curtseyed. Princess Twilight laughed, a little nervously, and gestured for April to stand up again. They spoke for a moment – and then both were laughing. April led the princess to a booth.
Delores felt a string pulled taut in her chest. She sighed. She’d never told her daughter. About that night in the ruins. She couldn’t have done that. All she could do was be April’s mother. When the rejection letter came, she held on tight to her daughter, and her daughter held on tight to her. And neither of them ever let go.
Delores examined the face of Princess Twilight Sparkle. Everyone lives forever, she remembered. In big ways, in little ways. Yes. Twilight Sparkle will live forever. In big ways. Delores and April, they’ll live forever, too. In little ways. And that, Delores thought, a nameless ache in her heart, is that.
April conjured up a pitcher of water, a glass, and a menu from nothing and set them down on the table. The princess took the menu in her hooves, lifted it up to read – and the edge of the menu caught the rim of the pitcher, and the pitcher fell in an arc off the table.
Both horns flashed. The pitcher froze in the air, the water, already spilling in the air, suspended as if frozen.
Delores stared, holding her breath. The princess was apologizing, April was doubtless telling her that there was nothing to apologize for.
Then, they both realized who was holding the pitcher in the air. With a laugh from both of them, Princess Twilight’s horn went out. And April lifted the pitcher she’d caught back onto the table.
Delores smiled.
That’s my little girl, she thought. The best in the world.
The End
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Moose, you put out a new story! And to think, I still haven't gotten around to Mr. Brannigan's Ghosts. Hmm... yup, read later.
Yep, you can expect a review of this soon(ish).
5531373
I look forward to hearing your thoughts, my friend! (And I'm so sorry I haven't yet gotten to Essenza di Amore, which looks splendid. I'll read it, pinkie-promise.)
Wow, it takes a special kind of deadbeat to wait until after his kid is born to bail.
*And at the risk of spoilers...*
It's a shame. You'd think that Celestia taking one of the applicants as her personal student would free up that one remaining spot. Then again, Celestia would still want that filly to mingle with foals her age. And even if it did, the proctors may have been too distracted to notice another possible child prodigy in their midst.
Not bad overall. You treated us to a story about a gifted girl who, due to a host of unfortunate circumstances, lost out on the chance to achieve her full potential. It's sad, maybe even a little tragic, but life goes on nonetheless for these two ponies.
My one issue with the story was at the beginning when Delores was talking to the school's receptionist. Sure, there is a certain etiquette to that interaction, but the dialogue still felt a little too inorganic to me.
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I'm not sure if you intended this, Phazon, but thanks a million for pointing out an unacceptable typo - "the day Delores was born" ought to be "the day April was born." Sorry about that - rather embarrassing.
Anyhow, thanks so much for the read, my friend; it's great to hear your notes (which are considerate and fair, as always). And since this story was a bit of departure for me - less about contention with vast, mysterious forces, and more about the struggles of real life - I'm all the more eager to hear what readers think. Thanks again!
Fabulous. I will remember this one for a long time. So frustratingly sad, and I LOVED the ending.
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Intended? I completely overlooked that error myself!
But hey, no problem. It's just too bad that this has gotten so few views. I suppose all that's left now is to wait for CV's review, which he promises will be "soon(ish)."
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A review, you say?
...
6 weeks? I said "soon" 6 weeks ago?
I am so sorry!
Some thoughts not in the review:
DUDE. I'm prepared to bet ten of my inferior Australian dollars that you took this from this song below.
Even if you didn't, it was the first thing I thought of. This is one of my favourite old songs.
Another note on that:
for Mixed Blood Power. If Dragon Ball Z has taught me anything, it's that hybrids are superior.
I love the "plaster" metaphor you've used.
I'm totally stealing it.(minor edit: suggested corrections made and removed from comment)
Whoa. I totally gasped there as well. Good show.
I notice that you revert to comma splices in Delores' dialogue, but I feel that's deliberate, since she's worked up when it happens.
For the record, I wonder how different the world would be, had April become Celestia's protégé instead of Twilight.
Now, go and write some more amazing horsewords.
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Thank you, Adren. I just read your review, and I'm thrilled you enjoyed this story... but it's really your footnote about my work as a whole that floors me.
Listen - I don't write a lot on this site (or at least, not as much as I used to), I haven't made a single blog post in all my time here, and I seldom get a chance to read the works of other FIM Fiction authors, as is evidenced by my skeletal list of favorites. All that said, I almost feel embarrassed, reading what you have to say about my work - it feels like I can't have possibly done enough to earn the praise you give me. Thank you, all the same; you make me smile, and you make me feel like writing again.
Ah, and I'm much obliged to you for picking up on those typos/errors, which I've just corrected - I have to admit, this is one of those stories I just wrote in a white heat over a couple of days, so I'm ashamed to say that a few more errors than usual slipped through. (Three! Three from you, and a fourth pointed out to me in an earlier comment. I disgust myself.)
Anyway... You're a fantastic friend to me on this site, Adren, and I haven't done nearly as much for you as you have for me. I'm not sure what I'll be writing next, but please know that it's because of people like you that I know there even will be something next. Thanks again, bud.
(Edit: Oh, and I'm sad to say that you'd lose ten of those perfectly respectable Australian dollars on that bet of yours - I've never heard of this song before. But I do like it; and what an eerie similarity, indeed.)
You should submit this to Equestria Daily. Really. You should. And The Royal Guard, while you're at it.
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Seconded.
Wait, the Royal Guard? Where was this idea of yours last year with Tutelage? I had to pitch the idea to Moose, and we're still waiting for it to get featured/inducted. The group probably has a decent backlog, so I still think it's a matter of when, not if.
Moose, you did submit Tutelage to the Royal Guard, right?
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Hi again, Phazon - yup, at your suggestion, I did indeed submit Tutelage to the Royal Guard. I can't remember exactly how long it's been since, but I'd wager it's been a little over two, maybe three months. So, we'll see what we'll see. But you know, until I hear whether or not Tutelage made the cut, I think I'll hold off on submitting Those Who Live Forever; somehow, it feels like bad form to add more than one of my own stories to the heap. (I'm not sure if this is a common stance, or if I'm being faintly ridiculous, but I'd rather not take the chance.)
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I know that Equestria Daily only like one story per author in the queue, however the Royal Guard have no such restrictions. As long as you submit no more than one story to them per week, they don't care how many you have in the queue. In fact, for quite a few weeks in a row, one particular user was being featured every post, up to two stories a fortnight.
Go for it, man. The guard is being fairly slow at the moment, but I and a few others have recently applied to swell their ranks and help speed up the process a little.
Cerulean Voice lead me here, and he was right in doing so - this was a very good story.
I agree - you should totally submit this story to Equestria Daily if you haven't already.
I wrote a review of this story; it can be found here.
This story was so painfully sad. Beautifully written, yet so bitter to read. I wanted to cry for April. She deserves something special. Oh, this sad sad story... And poor Dolores, too. What a horrible way for things to turn out. So unfair. So unfair.....
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Hi there, Titanium (or Mr. Dragon, whatever you prefer). I hope you won't feel too uncomfortable if I take a moment to thank your profusely for your review. I've got to tell you, I'm not too accustomed to opening up FIM Fiction and seeing anything more than zero-to-one items in my notifications box. So, I have you to thank for the heart attack I had today when I logged on (a sweet, sweet heart attack). In absolute truth, I'm still sort of in a state of shock. I guess all I can say is, thank you kindly, and boy am I glad that you caught wind of the story through Cerulean Voice - and, of course, that you ended up liking it. Maybe I'll give EQD a try, after all...
Now, I must immediately set about reading some of your own work. (I'm afraid I've been a terribly inactive reader on this site for the past few years, for which I apologize to everyone.) If you ever end up reading anything else of mine - don't worry, I fully appreciate the current vastness of your Read Later list - I'd love to hear your thoughts. Take care, my friend.
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You're welcome! I'm glad I had such a positive impact.
I added both of your other stories to my read later list. Hopefully I'll get around to them sooner rather than later, but, well, it is a bit crowded.
I have a suggestion for you:
Someone in the comments of my reviews noted that they'd seen Cerulean Voice talk about it, and seen it before elsewhere by someone (probably also CV, probably on Skype), and never read it because the description didn't seem that interesting to them. Seeing the opening paragraphs of the story hooked them, and it was what convinced me to keep reading through to the end.
I'd consider changing your long story summary to the first few paragraphs of your story:
I'd also consider changing your short summary to this:
That should fit in the character limit.
Just a thought. It would be especially useful for submitting it to Equestria Daily, as I think that would be more likely to get you more eyes from them, I think. Your prose is very pretty and makes very big promises for the story being interesting, while the summary you have doesn't seem to be nearly as outstanding.
I got a little misty eyed at that one. I'm glad I read it. This story deserves more praise.
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Thank you! I hope you enjoy whatever you end up reading from my list. Were you looking for recommendations?
The same to you. If you have any thoughts on my stories, feel free to express them.
And if/when I do read anything more of yours, I'll be sure to let you know. I actually review most everything I read - in fact, half of why I started reviewing stories was because I realized I kept adding stories to my "read later" list and never actually reading them. I decided that if I started doing reviews, then every time I read enough stories, I'd have a blog post to share with folks, and be able to share the stories I liked and disliked. So you'll most likely get another review when I get around to your other works.
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You know, that's a really good idea. I originally intended for the description to be as minimal as possible, hoping to heed that old saying, "Promise a little, deliver a lot." But based on your reaction, it seems that maybe the current description promises a bit too little. Yup, some revisions are probably in order. I'll toy around with incorporating those first few paragraphs, which I'm happy and grateful to hear you liked. (Although, I think I'd still like to include something about April's enrollment at Celestia's school. For me, at least, I'd feel a little tentative about offering a description that doesn't mention the action of the story; I just wouldn't want to mislead anyone who gives it a click.)
Thanks for the suggestion, Titanium - I love getting down to brass tacks like this, especially with people who've read my work. A third eye is always welcome. Greatly obliged!
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I certainly look forward to any possible/eventual reviews! And that's quite an efficient system you've got going there, following everything you read with a review; you're a better man than I. (Or lady - beg pardon, I don't mean to presume.)
Ah, and if there was a story of yours that you had in mind to recommend - say, if you were forced at gunpoint to delete every story on your account but one - I'd love to hear which you were thinking of. Thanks!
So... Twilight accidentally "ruined" April's life... Harsh. Makes you wonder how other stories like that are out there.
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The story is about the unfairness of life, really, and I think that the start of the story captures the mood very well.
If you REALLY want to include the thing about the exam (which, I suppose, is fair), one possibility would be something along the lines of (though in your own words):
Or something along those lines.
I'd still just leave the short description being the first two lines, as they're really grabbing, and they'd see the full description when they clicked on the story regardless. The short description just has to be enough to get their eyes onto the main story page, where the long description can work its magic. You don't need to completely describe the story in the short description, just get people's attention.
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It wasn't always that way. I'm up to being the sixth most prolific reviewer at this point; I'll probably be in 4th place within a week.
Delete every story but one?
Well, I'd probably have to leave up The Collected Poems of Maud Pie in that case. But that's a bunch of modernist rock poetry; it is hardly representative of my work. It is what got me inducted into the Royal Canterlot Library, though, so is probably my most-praised piece. It is also quite short - 1,017 words across 20 poems.
The Butterfly's Burden is debatably the story I'm most proud of; it is a kind of melancholy piece about Fluttershy being faced with the burden of how to deal with Discord during the middle of season 4. Some folks have said it is their favorite Fluttershy piece, which is pretty high praise, but it isn't a perfect story; in particular, it is a single unbroken piece (it should probably be three chapters) and it has an abundance of semicolons. It clocks in at about 10,000 words.
If you want to commit to something shorter and you want something tragic, Rose Petals has been described as a "punch to the gut followed by a knife to the back"; it clocks in at about 2,400 words.
If you like faux Native-American folklore, The Legend of Falling Rocks, Buffalo Brave is a collection of three short stories told in the style of Native American mythology. It was featured on Equestria daily, and all three put together add up to about 2,900 words.
One of my great loves is shipfics. Nine of my stories are shipfics, though it is actually a much greater number than that as one of those is a collection of short stories.
The best of them is probably either Temptation, which is a 3,000 word story about Rarity debating whether or not she should kiss Applejack, and The Stolen Date, which is a 16,400 word novelette about Rainbow Dash taking the place of a blind date for Fluttershy, in order to protect Fluttershy from "some weirdo". That being said, Through Glass is the only one of my shipfics to have been featured on Equestria Daily; it is about Rarity helping a beautiful mare pick out the perfect hat in her boutique, and comes in at about 2,100 words.
If you just wanted to read a random grab-bag of stories, Famous Last Words is probably your best bet; it is three short stories, each about 750 words long.
Really, it depends on what you like. I write a pretty wide gamut of things, and it is usually better to suggest stories that people might actually like to people than it is to suggest what I think is my best story, because frankly, the stories I enjoy reading the most of my own are not really my "best" stories but the ones which have the most basic appeal to me.
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I would also like to add a suggestion. A comment from PresentPerfect on my review, as well as TD's own thoughts on his review, both show that the characters' names are a potential turnoff. I might be putting words in TD's mouth here, but I feel like he might have given it the elusive and prestigious Highly Recommended score if their names fit more with the canon universe. Dolores and April just aren't very "pony" names, so unless you have a special or significant personal reason to keep them, I do suggest a change.
I'll leave it up to you, Moose. That's my take, though. While I didn't mention it on my own review, in hindsight, with this being a shared opinion between two veteran reviewers, they might be right.
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It wouldn't have changed my evaluation of the story. It is a potential turnoff for people, though.
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I dunno, "April Clouds" is pretty ponyesque. No argument about Dolores, though.
I read this Saturday when I was barely awake. I will say that the sad tag does fit, but it never really hit me all that hard. Yes, dreams were crushed, and dreams for one's child, but dreams can be found again, and discovered in ways you wouldn't believe. I really liked the ending, though. Delores felt like a mother throughout, and that's good. It's rare to find good stories about mothers and their children. Kudos.
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One name: Pinkamena Diane Pie
Perhaps Delores was a middle sister, and got saddled with the name to tell them apart. Or something.
Well done! I'm adding this to groups to spread it around. :)
This didn't sit too well with me. Yes, it's a sad story. But the number of stupid things that had to add together for the "sad" ending to take place are rather absurd. Incompetent admissions officers and a terrible admissions process- if a school's cutoff is the merely gifted, there's no way they'd turn down a Jacobi even if the so-called "last" spot was taken by a Gauss. The apparent lack of any other institution capable of providing a quality education to talented unicorns. The inability to get any strings pulled by Cribbs, or any continued private tutoring- as someone who teaches gifted math students for a living, it would not be hard to find several friends and colleagues willing to donate a few hours of their time every month to a potential Jacobi without any monetary compensation. Delores' inability to say something about it to Celestia in their meeting. Celestia not bothering to inquire further about the extraordinary circumstances that would lead a mare to the library in a deserted castle in a dangerous forest.
The story made a good attempt to tug at the heartstrings, but the number of idiot balls required in the effort greatly reduced the impact.
I should never have read this, particularly with how I've been feeling lately.
It's not that it's a bad story, per se, and certainly not that it was poorly written in any way (although I do agree with all the points 5799236 made). In fact, it was written in such a fashion as to have an inordinately powerful impact on me. It's just that it . . . hurts . . . imagining a child with that much raw talent, that much promise . . . you know?
I would only hope that Twilight would have sensed the latent ability April displayed when catching both the pitcher and airborne spilled water, and would have probed the young adult's potential and, having done so, offered her the training and lessons she should have been proffered when she was younger.
::sadly sighs::
One can only hope.
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That's the idea.
"A glimmer of hope in the black," so to speak.
Holy cow, Moose. Three times the ratings and twice the views in a matter of two days!
I'm happy for ya.
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Thanks so much, Adren! I'm still expecting to wake up at any moment. Really, I have you and Titanium Dragon to thank. I'm pretty sure the views on this thing would never have broken 200 if it weren't for you guys (just as I'm convinced that The Tutelage of Star Swirl would never have gotten past a few hundred views if you hadn't given it your early support). Those Who Live Forever even earned me my first dislikes! I know I shouldn't be too proud of that, but dangit, I'm in a celebratory mood.
On the whole, I enjoyed this and thought that it hit the emotional beats it was meant to. However, I'd like to add my voice to a couple of lines of criticism playing out here. First, I agree that the names are a little distracting; Dolores and April could stay (maybe it's a regional thing, a la the Pies), but I'd really suggest giving Miranda, at least, a pony name. Second, Emil's points, to which I would add Dolores's and April's poor decision to only apply in the last year she had a chance, given the implication that next year would have been an option if April weren't hitting the age ceiling. That point would have been salient (after all, the ponies in focus are seemingly far from the big cities, and don't come across as very sophisticated) were it not for the presence of Cribbs, although I suppose it's possible he only began tutoring her very recently.
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Who knew I had the ability to give a story 140 views?
I'm sure I will only use this power responsibly.
Just ignore the maniacal cackling you're hearing in the background. It is nothing to worry about.
They kinda both got shafted here. April lost out on the chance to study magic with the best, and Twilight never got the chance to befriend the one filly in Equestria who could keep up with her. Trixie and Sunset probably come close, but they're both jerks and pompous bullies, especially when they were younger.
Ack! I knew Twilight was going to crash their party! However, I did not see Celestia crashing it as well.
I have the feeling this story is written from personal experience, and I say this because it carries its lesson--which is not a nice one--all the way through to the end. Life is unfair, and sometimes the role you are given in it is a little one, and there is nothing you can do about it. An author who knew this simply as a platitude would, I think, lose the courage to deny April and her mother their dreams. Though perhaps I am wrong.
Either way, beautifully done Moose Mage.
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I see my words precede me. :B
Yes, if there's anything I want to know about this story it's "why the names?" "April Cloud" is definitely pony... but would also fit a pegasus more. (Though I can at least tell where the surname came from; I'm simply unused to pony names working that way!) To say nothing of "Delores" or "Miranda".
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If you're even the slightest bit put off by it now, you're not going to like the names Argus Brannigan or Arthur Brendel.
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This seems to be the most common complaint of this story, the names not being pony-esque enough. I actually brought it up in another story of Moose's, and he tried to explain his rationale behind OC names to me. Whether or not you consider it an adequate explanation is up to you. Personally, I liked his stories too much to care one way or the other about the names, and to be fair to this story, the names are close enough to pony-esque that Moose can get away with it (April Clouds is pretty pony as it is, and a reasonable name for a pegasus mother to come up with. As for Delores, it's based on or at least sounds similar to the Latin word for pain, but even then any symbolism/relevance is tenuous at best.).
Goddammit.
I wish the story continued after this. It feels like there's a big gaping hole that needs to be mended. It's selfish of me to want a story to turn out alright, as good as a real life one, but it's been a while since I felt this way and I don't care.
Just seeing Dolores vent her feelings to Celestia would have been nice. Am I to assume that Twilight can fix things from here?
This story makes me upset, which I know is the intention, but I'm immensely frustrated that the issue hadn't been pressed further. Would it have compromised the integrity of the story to have Dolores tell the truth about her feelings to Celestia? It doesn't seem in character that she would be so persistent in pushing for another chance for April to take that exam, and look for books to help her, only to fold when she hears the princess praise Twilight. April could still fail to get in; Celestia could give condolences and explain why things wouldn't work from there.
Also, I'm wondering if we're supposed to infer that Twilight notices how talented April is and initiates the conversation from there, even though nothing about that last interaction suggests that Twilight notices her talent. And what is the point of the "everyone lives forever" motif? The only conclusion I can draw is that it's a lie, a coping mechanism ponies who have nothing tell themselves to get by.
Sorry if I'm questioning your vision too much, but one of my biggest pet peeves is when people are stupidly oblivious to another's suffering and I'm not really seeing a reason why this has to be the case for Twilight and Celestia here.
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Hi there, Solitair - First off, I'd like to profusely apologize for letting about six hundred years slip by before replying to your comment. Really, I have no good excuse. Shame on me. Anyhow, thanks so much for the favorite! And of course, I always welcome thoughtful comments of any kind on my stories. Please, never feel like you're "questioning my vision" by sharing your feelings (although it's very considerate of you to think along those lines).
You bring up important points, the most significant one probably concerning Delores in the penultimate scene. I think your incredulity at her actions is totally fair - it takes Delores a certain amount of steel to go as far as she does, but when Celestia steps onto the scene, that steel dissipates. (From here on out, a warning to other readers: Here be minor spoilers.)
Let me try to explain my thinking: Throughout the story, Delores is fighting an uphill battle, and she knows it. Even before she steps into the registrar's office, she was probably losing sleep over how to pay for this fancy school (I mean, she owns a diner, for God's sake), and as the story goes on, the ground she's battling on steadily crumbles away. By the time Delores finds herself face to face with Celestia, the final, absurd hope she has for her daughter - bringing her unusual books - is taken away from her. When Celestia snatches the book that Delores had set her sights on, that's when (in my mind, at least) Delores knows, in her heart of hearts, that she's beaten, without a square foot of ground left to stand on. After all that's happened, I can imagine such a feeling to be absolutely crushing. And of course, Delores is clearly in awe of Celestia, which would make any sort of articulate confrontation almost impossible.
And even if all these emotional factors were removed, let's consider one more thing. Delores is a capable, independent creature, yes; and as a result, she can be proud. (This was part of why I chose to give her a bit of haughty disdain for cities, as well as some calculated disinterest when Twilight appears.) Asking Celestia for a second chance isn't like asking the registrar for an exam spot. With the registrar, Delores was negotiating. But if Delores did take her cause to Celestia, I think the result would've been a bit too much like begging for her to stomach.
Ultimately, though, you're right. The logical thing for Delores to do would've been to bring her case to Celestia, and demand reconsideration in the face of extraordinary events. And you're right, it's frustrating that Delores doesn't do so. I've read several comments below that have taken issue with other seemingly illogical aspects of this story. However, for me, at least, this story was never about logical truth, especially not in the scene between Delores and Celestia. In this story, emotional truth holds sway, not logical truth. On another comment below, a user called Emil mentions that the number of "idiot balls" rolling around in this story (unrealistic plot points) reduces the impact. I would counter, however, that those "idiot balls" make the story possible. They create conflict, and they offer emotional truth to both the characters and the readers, via hopelessness and frustration.
And in any case, I think you're right to point out that the ending isn't necessarily tragic. Who knows? If Twilight's impressed, maybe there's a future for April yet. And even if that's not so, and April's future is her mom's diner, you know what? I don't think that's a tragedy. If every person on earth who's given up dreams were to spend their lives crying about it, we'd all drown.
Anyway - I hope you can forgive this rather long and over-written defense of Those Who Live Forever. As I always say, you can't argue with the audience, and that's certainly not what I mean to do here; just to respond. Thanks again for the read, my friend, and hopefully I'll see you around.
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You know, after I posted that comment, I started looking at the story from another angle: What does April want? I mean, really want?
The viewpoint of this story is firmly locked into Delores's mind, and it occurred to me that the dream of April getting into a school where her talents can be truly appreciated is Delores's dream. Yes, April acts upset and hopeful at the right points in the story, but is that really because she's personally invested in attending Celestia's school or because she loves her mother and wants to see her happy?
Just because she has the talent to enter into the best school doesn't mean she would be happy with school life. I did so well in high school and before that I got acceptance letters from places like Yale, and yet college life kicked my ass and left me with a dead-end GPA. Running a diner is something April knows she can excel at, and the rural environment around it is one she's comfortable in. Delores's disdain for cities might have rubbed off on April, and made life at the school even more miserable.
Being privately tutored by Twilight might just be the best option for her after all. If I wanted to be ridiculous, I'd suggest that April used powers she hid from Delores to manipulate events to this fortuitous conclusion, all according to keikaku. It's a silly idea, but I felt like a I needed a laugh after reading this.
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Definitely - I think you're absolutely right about April. Getting accepted into Celestia's school was really Delores's dream from the start; and April herself never seems to have the single-mindedness or determination of her mother. You're quite right to point out that April is young, and maybe is just trying to please Mom.
Now that's a fun idea - that April might've been using her powers to secretly twist circumstances, so she wouldn't have to go to Celestia's school at all. I kid you not, if that had occurred to me before I started writing, I might very well have tried a draft of Those Who Live Forever from April's view. (Certainly, that would have made for a story with a few more laughs.)
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Keep in mind that many names we consider jarringly non-pony have alternate meanings that can enhance a story if carefully used. Examples:
Miranda is a Latin name meaning "worthy of admiration". Dolores is Spanish for 'sorrows'. "April Clouds" brings to mind the phrase "April showers bring May flowers" which is an expression of hope.
Of course alternate name meanings can get too obscure. *cough*Mr. Brannigan*cough*
I kept expecting Delores to punch someone in the face.
Good read.
Hey there! GMP here, on behalf of the Everfree Northwest Fanfic Team. I wanted to let you know that your story was featured in our latest Fanfic Spotlight post!
You can check it out here.
In addition, I have also spotlighted this story on my Fimfic blog, which you can check out here.
Congratulations, and thank you for sharing such a wonderful story with the community. Well done!
Cheers!
GMP
Thank you for writing this, it was excellent.
You can has review!