Violet Lace

by DemonAngel13

If the Uncomfortable Shoe Doesn't Fit!

Violet felt the gears in her mind turn as she desperately tried to type everything down. Her hooves smelled like developer and her mane was in its typical morning bun. She didn't care. She kept typing. The keys on her typewriter clicking and the tiny appendages that drove the ink into the paper slapped against the parchment full force.

It was nighttime. Her favorite time. She was admiring her new pictures when she saw the moon gazing at her through her gray curtains. The sudden spark of inspiration took hold. A new story.

I gazed at him from my perch. He seemed rather normal. As normal as a stallion could be when wandering around the cemetery at the stroke of three in the morning.

He didn't seem like the others, though. He didn't go to any particular headstone. He didn't look as though he was suddenly struck with grief or sorrow, like every other pony at this hour. He wasn't young either, simply looking a few years older than me. He wasn't a student, bent on stupidly proving himself to his classmates in a idiotic manner. What was the point of that? Nothing dangerous happened at the cemetery at night.

Not while anypony else is around, anyway.

A clock chimed. I swiftly moved my head to gaze at the huge clock tower. The bell that hung on rusty hinges called out three times, officially signaling the end of the darkest hours of the night.

I moved my head back to the stallion. He was right underneath me now, his bright white mane glowing in the moonlight. He kept walking around my tree. I felt my mane prickle with unease, causing shivers to run up and down my folded wings.

It was during that untimely moment that my instincts started to kick in. My ears swiveled and I could hear the enticing pound of his heart. I subconsciously opened my mouth, smelling the buttery-salt like smell that practically radiated off of him.

Blood. I wanted blood.

One thing I was grateful for, is that my stomach doesn't growl as much as it used to. I quietly crept towards him, careful to stay in the shadows. He was right there... so close.

I lept from my perch. I felt the strangely satisfying soreness as my wings expanded. I bobbed in the air, quickly deciphering my attack. I swooped to the left, distracting his attention towards pointless bushes. I gently glided my way close to the ground, out of site. It was then that I rose behind him, my fangs outstretched and ready to pierce through the flesh of his-

He turned towards me. Startled by the sudden movement, I stupidly slowed down. He didn't leave an opening as he pounced on me and held me down with his hooves. The pinched and pressed uncomfortably into the muscles of my legs. I hissed at him, spitting and expanding my fangs farther outside of my muzzle. He didn't flinch.

It was then when he reached into his saddlebag. Pulling out the emblem of the sun, the princess's cutiemark in all of its gold-plated glory. He pressed it to my chest, and I screamed and hissed as it sizzled and blistered my skin and singed my fur-

There was a knock at her bedroom door. The sound pounded against Violet's eardrum causing her to be pulled from her trance.

"Violet Lace, we need to talk." Her mother walked into her bedroom, a few strands of her mane hung loosely in front of her eyes. Her eyes themselves were carried by a huge set of gray bags that could rival the color scheme of Violet's room.

She sat herself delicately in one of Violet's chairs. She stole a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror and readjusted the stray hairs, smoothing them back into her mane.

"Dear, something of great importance has come up." She said with her muzzle in the air. She looked down at Violet, though her eyes have grown softer as the months passed. She had noticed that Violet was wearing her mane down, and loved the concept of Violet getting some more social attention at school. "Fancy Pants is planning a large ball, and we need to get you the proper attire."

"Ummm...." Violet had a difficult time processing the information. Her mother hasn't insisted that she go to a party, not without it being mandatory in the unwritten rules of the Canterlot elite. "I-I don't think I want to go."

Her mother snorted. "I don't much care for your attitude, Violet Lace. You will go, and that's that." She leaned into Violet so that their muzzles were practically touching. "You wouldn't want your mother or father to look rude, now would you?"

Violet pressed her ears against her head. "No. Not at all, mother."

"Great!" Her mother's face formed a demure smile, as though the past couple of seconds didn't happen. "We'll go dress shopping tomorrow!" She glided over to the door and showed herself out. Just as the door closed, Violet saw her perfectly curled tail whip in her direction, a silent gesture of victory. Or more importantly, Violet losing.

With a heavy sigh, she looked back towards the story she had written. With a quick skim over the pages she realized how dark it was compared to the other stuff she had written before.

How strange... She thought as she read a particular paragraph about the protagonist going through a rather blood-curdling transformation. With a quick train of thought, she slowly got used to the idea of her writing what she had written. After all, it was better to get all of the morbid and freakishly graphic imagery out in one big go, than scattered throughout a story that somepony like Cloudy would read. Right?

Silently nodding to herself, she placed it in the section of her desk where the 'misfit stories' had a place to call home. In a place the story wouldn't be finished, but instead used for further inspiration.

"Now what...?" She looked towards the room, eager to find something to do. She had already written the chapters for Cloudy to read, and she didn't like writing ahead just in case she needed to change something. Her room was spotless, per always, so it didn't need cleaning.

Don't tell me... She winced as a thought appeared in her head. A dreadful thought. She looked desperately towards her bed, but she knew that if she tried to go to sleep now, she wouldn't be able to get a wink in before tomorrow afternoon.

Please, please, please no... She looked at her closet-turned-darkroom. Her pictures were drying, and she hadn't gotten the opportunity to buy new film yet, so she couldn't take any new pictures.

With a dread filled gulp, she looked back towards her door. With enough hesitance to make a snail angry, she pushed open the door.

"Mother!" She called down the hallway to the stairs. "Um... If you wanna shop for dresses now... I have time." She sent a silent prayer to Celestia that her mother didn't hear her, but that prayer wasn't answered when she heard eager hoofsteps on the first floor.

"Grab the white scarf, sweetie!" Her mother shouted, forgetting all forms of decorum. "It'll look fabulous with your mane!"

A small spark of anger flashed in her chest. Her mother shot past her into her own room to fix herself up for the trip. In a simple act of rebellion, she stomped off to her her room to grab her new shawl. Wrapping it delicately around her neck, she walked out of her room without her chin held high or a confidence in her step. Instead, she was herself. Her meek, anti-social, and strange little self.

Her father looked up from the paper he was reading once she got downstairs.

"You look lovely, Violet." He said with a glance. "Don't give your mother too much trouble."

"Yes Father." She said with a smile. Compliments from her father were rare, but appreciated.

Her mother, her stride full of grace, walked down the stairs in pale pink coat with fur cuffs. Gold buttons shined and the initials of her name, SP, were embroidered on her left shoulder. "I just sent them a message. They'll be expecting us! Let's go!"

...

Harsh lights were hitting Violet from all sides. She couldn't seen anything but herself. On all sides of her were reflections of her in a hideously gaudy red mermaid gown.

"I do not 'tink it is de one." The sales pony said, casting a nervous glance towards Violet's mother.

"Preposterous!" Her mother said to the innocent mare. "She looks ravishing!"

Violet felt as though she looked like a phoenix's hindquarters. The entire dress was completely covered in rubies, embers, and jasper stones, making the garment look like a giant flame. The dress was beautiful, sure, but it wasn't Violet's type of beautiful. Not only that, but it clashed with her coat. The structure of the dress was awkward too, with the entire body being form fitting except for a couple of inches above the hooves where it flared out with bright red and orange silk.

"Um... this one is rather stuffy, Mother." Violet said quickly. "I would hate to get all sweaty at the party."

Even the sales pony caught on to what Violet was doing. "Uh, Yes! Yes! De dress does not...How you say, breathe? Very stuffy, very uncomfortable."

Her mother re-examined the dress, this time with a more convenient critical eye. "I suppose..." She looked at the sales pony again, a poor mare that went by Rosie because her actual name is to difficult for anypony here to pronounce. "Go find her another one, quickly!"

Rosie zoomed towards the racks behind Violet.

"No need to be in such a rush, Mother." Violet said as she carefully slid off the gown. "We have all-night reservations."

She glanced at the letter for proof. Her mother used a simple mail spell to send it over to the shop. The shops owner and her mother were good friends, so Rosie had to suffer along with Violet and lose a couple of hours of sleep in order to cater to their needs.

Her mother simply huffed a little air out of her nose and went to look at the other racks scattered throughout the store. Violet jumped as Rosie suddenly appeared next to her with a rack filled to the brim with obnoxious fabrics and dreadful looking beading. Violet caste a glance towards her mother, making sure she was out of ear shot.

"Pssst! Rosie!" She whispered. The pink mare looked up. "If you could find anything with a cold color palete, and a little less bling, that would be great."

Rosie shot a sly smile towards the filly. With her edgy looking green mane, straightened to nearly impossible limits, and cool looking leather pan collar necklace, it was clear that this pony knew what she was talking about when it comes to fashion. Her own cutie mark was that of a rose, turned upside down, and forming the skirt of a beautiful red ballgown.

"Yes. Of course, Miss Lace." She quickly ran back to the rear end of the store. When she came back, she returned with a less awful looking example of a dress.

"Oh... that's... interesting." Her mother suddenly appeared back in Violet's view. "I'm not sure if that will-"

"Silky Peeetttalllls!" A loud voice sang from the front doors. "How's my fabulous mare-friend doing?"

The owner of the shop, Blue Nightingale, entered in all of her glory. Wearing a stunning, shimmering blue dress that reached all the way down to the floor. Her periwinkle colored mane was up in a intricate up-do that framed her face beautifully. She was also wearing jewelry, of course, and was currently sporting a sapphire adorned tiara and matching necklace. Her coat, freshly groomed, glowed a brilliant white.

"Oh! Blue, great to see you!" Her mother smiled sweetly. "I was hoping to get your opinion on one of these dresses." Her mother motioned towards the rack she had chosen. The dresses were every color that Violet knew she would look horrible in. In fact, she was pretty sure her mother only chose them because they were mentioned in the latest issue of Mares Monthly.

"It's glorious darling!" Mrs. Nightingale said, her voice filled with admiration. The only problem? It was directed towards the dress in Rosie's hooves, the one her mother was about to dismiss. "I'm glad to see that my best clerk hasn't lost her touch."

"Ah, well... Great!" Her mother said, stuttering slightly. "Just what I thought, glad to have your opinion."

Violet and Rosie shot glances at one another. With a subtle roll of her eyes, Violet headed back towards the dressing room, with the purple dress following close behind.

She had to admit, getting into this dress was a lot less difficult than the others. When she looked in the mirror that covered one wall, even she thought it looked rather decent on her. As she opened the door, there was no denying it, this was the dress. Not even her mother could argue.

There was still a problem though.

Cursed by her own boredom, and making the foolish decision to look for a dress early, gave her an even worse fate.

Now she was stuck. She had to go to the ball. No excuses.

It was horribly glorious.