1. Now
Principal Celestia always has wings in her dreams.
It's not always a flying thing. (There was the time she gave a report to the school board in the nude, and she spent the whole dream trying to cover herself with them.) And she's not always the only one. (That one unforgettable dream with her little sister.) But it's the sole constant of her inner life. She always has wings in her dreams — radiant, unblemished white — and when she spreads them she feels a wind nobody else seems to sense, and when she folds them warm feathers tickle her hips like a kiss of light.
Then the alarm clock bleats, and her fingers fumble for the snooze button, and she stares out toward the rising sun, and she showers dresses cooks eats, drives parks opens greets, loves chides warns guides keeps it bottled up inside —
They need a principal, after all. They don't need a dreamer.
And then one day, her top student causes tens of thousands of dollars of property damage to the school.
That's not how anyone else on the scene would describe it. It's not even how she sees it. (Less abstract finance and more "six horse-eared girls blasting a bat-winged demon out of the air with beams of rainbow light.") It's magical. A dream come to life.
But even as the impossible unfolds in front of her eyes — even as a lifetime of self-denial warps and buckles, and her phantom wings quiver at the edge of physicality, screaming to be unfolded — even as her perception brushes the contours of that ethereal wind and plucks at its flow, as her hair begins to involuntarily billow out in the hot humid stillness — even as she knows, like she knows her name, that she could splay her limbs and rise from the ground and have the world behold an angel in its benevolent glory — the instincts that kick in are the ones that brought her to that moment to begin with.
She sees her students.
She sees hundreds of innocent children whose first exposure to magic isn't playing the hero and defeating the villain, but rather waking up amid a scene of chaos and devastation. Children staring at a new life defined by forces out of their control — a life where they don't matter. Children whose normal has just been brutally ripped away, with no guarantee they'll ever find it again.
So she clenches her back muscles, forcing the feeling down. She strolls out into the courtyard and hands Twilight Sparkle the crown for the Fall Formal. Behind her, Luna (who follows her lead, bless her heart) assigns Sunset Shimmer detention.
That, the children understand. The ups and downs of a school year. And it's that that they cheer as the lingering magic recedes.
She sees their faces, and instantly knows it was worth it.
But she's terrified to sleep that night. She lies sprawled on her back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to burst into tears. The tears don't come.
If she goes to sleep, she'll dream. If she dreams …
Now that she has beheld winged girls with her own eyes, she's not sure if she's more afraid that her dream-self won't have wings any more, or that her dream-self will.
The sun rises, after an approximate eternity. She sits up stiffly and stumbles to the mirror. She's a mess. She showers and dresses and cooks and eats and somehow manages to avoid two separate car accidents on the way to school and mechanically staggers into her office and puts her head in her hands and finally, finally, breaks down sobbing.
She realizes it's Saturday.
She goes home.
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BREAKS ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE, BREAKS ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE
This may well be the best opening I've read to a story in, like, I don't even know how long. Holy fucking hell, horizon.
Little typo here, tho
8313163
Thanks for the catch!
This is what happens when you only re-read the story thirty-seven times before posting.
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You get a fave on the strength of this opening chapter alone. Like 8313163 says above, this is a masterful opening.
Besides everything else, this is a beautiful line rendering a beautiful image and idea.
The most potent lines in the chapter.
I love how few comments this has, versus the number of people who have upvoted the comments. It's like they (like myself) felt compelled to show their appreciation for this beautiful prose, but were too driven to continue reading to stop and leave a message. Not much I can say beyond agreeing with the general statement, "This is beautiful."
I look forward to reading the rest.
Em dash galore. Otherwise, nice start.
8662624
Em dashing through the snow,
With no words left to say
O'er the hills we go,
Em dashing all the way!
The words are turning red,
And now this story's dead
So why not take a .44 and
Shoot Horizon in the head! Oh!
If the story ended here, it would still be a beauteous treasure.
8313106
You know, it's been … what, a year? … since I wrote the story, and nearly as long since you made this joke, and it only now occurs to me just how apropos the song derail actually is. I mean, I wrote the story to Edna St. Vincent Millay, but look at these lyrics:
That's just so damn fitting for Celestia's character arc up to the reconciliation and career change.
Will ye sing to the dawn? Will thy wings spread wide? Wind's picking up, 'tis time to soar.
What in the...
Save some good openings for rest of us. Geez. That was incredible, and in only 614 words, too!
This is really, really good prose.
I hope you do more stories like this.
I am both in pitty and in uproarious laughter at 1:41 pm my time, at this pour pour version of Celestia
9740800
Glad you're enjoying!
Oh, heck, this is a golden beginning to a story. Your writing is practically prosaically perfect.
Damn. THAT drew me in. Loving Celestia's care for her students and inner turmoil.
Damn.