Flying Brooms
“THANK YOU, PONYVILLE! I’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK!”
Thunderous applause. A shade of guilt to it—hard to notice, but Trixie was a professional, she could read audiences. Today was cleaning day but they were here watching her instead, and she was just entertaining enough to distract them, but not enough to make them forget. The perfect guilty pleasure.
She loved it, but she didn’t want to love it.
She was so good at it, though.
“AND NOW!” Flick of her tail, tip of her hat. Trixie flashed her horn, and opened the box next to her, and the children in the first row went absolutely buckwild feral.
Because she’d revealed the fireworks.
“FOR THE GRAND FINALE!”
The children went from excitement to a genuine religious experience. Even the teens and adults whispered among themselves. It was a little past noon. Magic made everything possible, but for fireworks to work under broad daylight? They’d need to be strong. They’d need to be spectacular, to shine that bright.
Trixie flashed her horn, and the fuse lit, and everypony held their breath.
Ponyville was a rural place. There were no roads; it was all dirt, and earth, and dust.
Imagine cleaning that.
Not just a room, or a house. The entire town. Imagine dedicating every waking moment of your routine to clean, to scrub, to wipe, to rinse. Imagine scheduling daily rainfalls so some of the grime on the streets gets washed away, and imagine that being not nearly enough.
Picture the cat hair, the rat droppings, the filth. Picture the smell.
It was the fifth day after the defeat of the Rat King. Five days of this, Ponyville had lived; anything outside of cleaning was a luxury. But they were so close to wrapping up, so close to finishing the last touches.
And then Trixie had thrown an impromptu show in the middle of Town Square.
A good one, too. She’d flown in a broom, tamed wild cats, found long-lost items. She’d turned a frog into a rabbit and then into a frog again. And honestly, you go and try to be strong enough to avoid that kind of entertainment after five days of torturous cleaning, see how that goes. The crowd felt guilty, they should've been working instead, but they were still there.
Trixie rose a hoof. The fireworks moved, pointing upwards, at the open sky by the side of the stage, right above Town Square. The fuse flared.
“THREE!” she yelled.
The crowd went wild.
“TWO!”
The mechanism supporting the fireworks cracked.
“ONE!”
And then it snapped, and the fireworks fell.
Slowly, methodically, gravity pointed them down. Away from the audience, away from the stage, away from Trixie—and towards the very center of Town Square.
Ponyville was a rural town. There were no roads; it was all earth, and dirt, and dust. And they’d scheduled daily rainfalls, to wash away the worst stuff from the streets.
There was a lot of mud in Town Square right now. The place was nothing but mud. You could drown in the stuff if you weren’t careful enough.
“WAIT!”
Too late.
The fireworks burst, and they shot downwards, and they hit the pool of mud dead-on. It was borderline a trickshot; some of the rockets had to bend their trajectory to get it right, but Celestia be your witness, they sure did. There was a wet splash, a blast, the fireworks exploded…
And everything went brown.
Less than a second later:
FLASH!
“Gagh!” Trixie tried to land on her hooves, failed, stumbled, fell. But she fell on soft, fluffy blankets, so it didn’t hurt—and by her side, Starlight fell too, face first, groaning something.
“Gaagh.”
Trixie sat up, rubbing her eyes, blinking the lingering lights away. A quick check of her surroundings made it clear they were back in Starlight’s room—on her bed, more exactly. The curtains were drawn, so everything was dark, but Trixie could hear screams outside, in town.
Didn’t sound good, that.
It took Trixie a moment to get all her senses back, but when she did she poked Starlight, who groaned and got up too. “Uh. Starlight?” Trixie asked. “What just happened?”
“Uuugh. My ears are ringing.” Starlight pressed a hoof against her forehead, frowning, and then looked at Trixie with a little bit of a smile. “I don’t know, I acted on reflex. I didn’t have time to think. Are you okay?”
Trixie blinked, and looked at herself. Not a spot of mud on her. “Looks like it. Did you teleport us to your room?”
“Yeah. The moment I realized the fireworks were going to go off, I panicked and—” Starlight let her own forehead go, and then looked at herself. “Oh. I’m spotless! That’s some impeccable timing.” Then she looked at Trixie. “Say.”
“Yes?”
“I think you just exploded all the mud in Ponyville into the air?”
There were still screams going in the background; louder, if anything. Glee and hatred mixed together, quite the melody. So, without saying anything, Trixie turned to the window and flashed her horn, and the curtains drew open.
There was mud raining from the skies, covering the entire town in a new, fresh, wonderful layer of filth.
Trixie drew the curtains close.
“I just exploded all of Ponyville’s mud into the air,” she said. And then she looked at Starlight and added: “Uh. Whoops?”
Starlight arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to go and guess that wasn’t on purpose, then.”
“I would never waste my fireworks like that!” Trixie made a huff. “They’re expensive.”
“We were so close to wrapping up the cleaning!” Starlight said, flashing her horn and drawing the curtains open again. The mud was still falling from the skies; there was a lot of it. “Ooof, they don’t sound happy about it.”
Trixie lowered her ears, flat against her head. “Sorry,” she said.
That made Starlight blink, and look at her. “What?” And then reach for Trixie. “No, that’s—Trixie, this wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do it on purpose, right? The fireworks stand just broke, it was an accident.”
Trixie pouted. “Was it?” She took off her hat and looked at it. “I’m not so sure.”
Starlight bit her lip, and then looked out the window—and giggled.
That made Trixie look.
“I mean,” Starlight said, pointing at the window. “Come on! It’s pretty funny. Listen to them! It’s been like two minutes, and they’re still screaming?”
Trixie looked out the window. The mud had settled; everything looked terrible. She could hear ponies cursing to Celestia and back all the way from there.
Sne snorted. “Okay,” she said. “It is a bit funny.”
“Plus, it’s just mud! After all we’ve been through, this is nothing. A little bit of rain and everything will be clean again, this is just an overreaction.” Out the window, Starlight saw a bunch of pegasi take flight from town square, and start rounding up clouds. She smiled. “See?”
Trixie jumped off the bed, and got close to the window. Her ears perked up again. “You’re right,” she said.
Here Starlight pressed a hoof against her chest, just like Trixie always did, and spoke in her best Great and Powerful voice. “Of course I am! I’m me.”
“Hey!”
“What.”
“I don’t sound like that!”
“Hmm.” Starlight thought about it. “Yeah. You sound way better.”
“Yeah! Exactl—ah huh. You’re good!” Trixie smiled at her, and then pointed under the bed. “And you’re going to find some treasure there!”
Starlight jumped off the bed, and then looked at it. “Seriously?”
“Come on, I just covered Ponyville in mud. That has to count, right?” Trixie pointed. “There’s a treasure there, and it’s going to get us a house. Go look!”
“Okay, if you insist.” Starlight kneeled down, and peeked over her bed. “But we looked in here yesterday already, and we didn’t find—whoa!”
Trixie took a step forward, eyes shining. “Did you find something?”
“Yes! But it’s not a treasure!” Starlight flashed her horn, and pulled. “Hnng. Hnnnnng—gagh! There!” And she got up, keeping the thing in her grasp, showing it to Trixie. “Look!”
Trixie looked. “...A broom?”
“A struggling broom!” Starlight said. And she was right—the broom was noticeably wiggling side to side, trying to get out of Starlight’s grip. “It’s the one we told to clean my room! It was trying to sweep the floor under my bed!”
“Oooh.” Trixie frowned. “That’s not a treas—wait, we didn’t turn it off?”
“We didn’t turn it off!” Starlight said, eyes wide. “We left the Castle when we got that letter about Twilight being in the hospital, and yesterday I spent the night at your wagon!”
Trixie winced. “And Spike is with Princess Twilight in the hospital. So… Nopony turned them off?”
“We’ve left the brooms sweeping the castle for almost twenty four hours!” Starlight winced when the broom did a particularly strong tug, and then she poked it with a hoof. “You! Stop already!”
The broom struggled even harder.
Starlight sighed. “For the love of—Trixie? Mind helping me? They never listen to me for some reason.”
“Sure.” Trixie got closer, and then poked the broom with a hoof. “You,” she said. “Stop moving. I’m trying to talk to Starlight.”
The broom went limp immediately. Starlight let it go, and it fell on the floor, laying perfectly still.
Both Starlight and Trixie looked at it, and then Trixie looked at Starlight. “Why didn’t you break the spell? Because it’s still alive, right?” She looked at the broom again. “You still alive?”
The broom rattled.
Starlight rubbed her horn, wincing, and then shook her head. “I can’t. Twilight is the one who enchanted them—have you ever tried to break an alicorn’s spell?”
“I thought you were better than her at magic?”
“Not quite, she's still got me beat in raw power.” Pause. Starlight kicked the broom lightly. “For now. I go to the gym every Sunday. We really left every single broom on, didn’t we? We should probably fix that.”
Trixie cocked her head to the side. “You think?”
“This is not really a good spell. I can see from here that it didn’t sweep the corners.” Starlight walked to one of the walls and pointed at the dust in the corner. “See? And, I mean, it got trapped under my bed.”
Trixie groaned, and rubbed her eyes. “I guess.”
“Come on, it won’t take long. You just have to ask them to stop moving.”
“Yes, yes.” Trixie whistled, and the broom on the ground immediately started floating at knee level. So she jumped on it, and then offered Starlight a hoof. “Want to ride with me?”
Starlight looked at her. “Is that safe?”
“Of course it is! There’s no way for you to fall. As long you hold on to me.” Trixie waggled her eyebrows. “Tight.”
So Starlight jumped on the broom without a moment’s hesitation.
They flew slowly, because it was more about the journey than the destination. There were autonomous brooms on every corridor, and some on the bigger rooms, which meant they had to take a little tour around the entire Castle.
Which means that, eventually, they made it to—
“Uh-oh.” Trixie pointed at the giant doors in the middle of the corridor. “Is that the Library.”
Which made Starlight grimace. “Shoot. It is.”
The Ponyville Castle Library. So big you could see it from outside, sticking out like the building had grown a conjoined twin. It was as spacious as the rest of the floor combined; bursting with bookshelves on every wall, on every column, every five feet give or take.
Completely trashed.
Not a single book in place.
“Right. We completely forgot about this, didn’t we.” Starlight mused, giving the place a lookaround, biting her lip. “Did you topple every single bookshelf?”
“I did! It took literally hours.”
“Then it’s going to take days to get it back to normal.” Starlight waved at the room. “I don’t think we can make it in time before Twilight gets out of the hospital. She’s not going to be happy.”
“I can honestly live with that.”
“I won’t be happy either, Trixie.”
“Oh. Well, that’s just blatant emotional manipulation.” Trixie snorted, but then she cleared her throat with a cough, and then yelled into the room: “Hey! This room is going to clean itself!” And then she turned to Starlight again. “There. Let’s get out of here.”
“Was that witchcraft? Do you think that’ll—whoa!” Starlight had to hug Trixie tighter to avoid falling off, so fast was the broom’s turnaround. Before you knew it, they were out of the Library, and back in the corridor. “Do you think that’ll work?”
“I’ve no idea! I don’t want to clean it, though, that’s for sure.”
“Right.” Starlight said. And then she leaned forward, resting her cheek on Trixie’s back, and frowned. “Trixie?”
“Hm?”
“Why are you feeling so blue? Earlier, at the stage—your heart wasn’t into it. You didn’t want to be there. What’s wrong?”
Trixie winced so hard they almost fell off the broom a second time. Starlight was holding on tight, though and Trixie was good enough at riding that she could get back her balance with a little swipe to the left. “What!” she said, looking ahead with eyes the size of plates, pupils the size of peas. “What are you talking about! That was a great performance!”
“It was!” Starlight said. “But your heart wasn’t in it. Come on, Trixie, I know you.”
“You two!” Trixie turned to the right on the next corner, and barked at the two brooms completely ignoring the corner by their side. “Stop moving right now!” Then she mumbled something under her breath. “Where do we go now?”
“Keep on straight until we can turn left, and then turn right, that’s the eastern wing.”
“Right.” Trixie clicked her tongue, and then sighed. “I had fun during the stage show,” she said.
“Oh. If you don’t want to talk about it I can change the topic, I don’t—”
“I’m not changing the topic. I had fun during the stage show. That’s why I’m annoyed.” Then she pointed. “That way?”
“That way.”
They got to the eastern wing.
Trixie started again. She didn’t look at Starlight as she talked. “I was supposed to annoy Ponyville with that stage show. I loved that. But I just wanted to make them feel guilty.”
Starlight nodded. “Right.”
“But the mud thing just…” Trixie continued. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, it wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Trixie, it was an accident.”
“It wasn’t! I—hold on.” Trixie flashed her horn opened a random door to their right. “You! Stop cleaning!”
The two brushes scrubbing one of the walls fell to the ground, limp.
“There we go.” Trixie tapped the broom, and they kept moving. “It wasn’t an accident,” she said. “I wanted it to happen. Same with Princess Twilight being in the hospital. I’ve wanted to throw a book at that stupid face of hers for years.”
“Trixie—”
“I didn’t plan it, and I hate that it happened, but I still wanted it.” Trixie blew part of her mane out of her face. “It’s not witchcraft that goes haywire, it’s me. I try, Starlight, I swear I try as hard as I can, but I can’t stop myself from thinking these things. I know it’s wrong, I’m sorry, but I can’t—”
“Trixie!” Starlight raised her voice, and shook Trixie’s shoulder to get her to stop—almost falling from the broom while doing so. “I knew all of this already! It’s perfectly normal, there’s no reason to feel guilty about it!”
Trixie’s ears perked up, and she stopped the room mid-flight. It made a screeching sound as it came to a halt.
“Hold on,” Trixie said, finally turning around to look at Starlight. “What? You know I’m still evil?”
“You’re not evil. I’m telling you, what you’re describing is perfectly normal. That’s literally how brains work.”
“…You’re telling me everypony wants to throw a book at Princess Twilight’s face?”
Starlight blinked. “Uh, no. Not that.”
“She does have a stupid face, though, you have to give me that.”
“Trixie, stop changing the subject.” Starlight shook her head, and then held Trixie’s hoof between hers. “I’m serious, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Listen, growing into a better version of yourself is never easy. We all struggle.” She smiled. “Or, what, you think I’m any different?”
Pause.
Trixie looked down at her hoof—the one Starlight was holding—and then back at Starlight. “What? No way,” she said. “Starlight, you’re a good pony.”
“And so are you.”
“I mean—”
“Trixie, whenever something gets a reaction out of you, the first thing is what you are, but the second is what you choose to be—and that’s all I care about.” Starlight leaned closer to Trixie. “Your first instinct was to want Twilight to get hurt, okay. Did you like wanting that?”
Trixie didn’t look away from Starlight’s eyes. “No.”
“There you go, then. If you choose to be a good pony, that’s all that matters.”
“Right, but.” Trixie frowned. “Ponyville is still full of mud. And the princess is in the hospital.”
“Yes, well, witchcraft listens to your desires, so we have to work on that, but…” Starlight bit her lip, made sure to pick her words carefully. “I think the hardest thing about growing, Trixie, is that self-awareness is not the last step. It’s the first. You need to know that you’re bad before you stop being bad, and that never stops being painful.”
“Hmmmm.” Trixie freed her hoof from Starlight’s grasp, and then turned around, kicked the broom, and kept on flying. “So you say you’re the same? That’s hard to believe.”
Starlight chuckled, hugging Trixie from behind. “Oh, is it? I told you the other day, Trixie—I overthink everything.”
“Oh. Oh?”
“Yeah. Every time something happens, my first instinct is to wipe everypony’s mind and then run away, but that’s not who I am anymore.” Starlight shrugged. “My brain is just a little slow on the uptake, that’s all.”
“…You still think like that?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever not think like that at all. I spent most of my life doing nothing else.” Starlight cuddled up to Trixie. “So, yes, I know that you still struggle. Twilight knows, too. None of us blame you for it. You’re a good pony, Trixie. The best I’ve ever met.”
Trixie straightened her back, perked up her ears. Starlight couldn’t see her face, but you could still tell she was smiling. “Well, obviously,” Trixie said. “I am wonderful after all.”
“No, I actually mean it.”
“So do I!”
“Trixie, no. I actually mean it.”
Pause.
They turned left, then right, then left. A dozen brooms stopped dead, and that was pretty much it for the eastern wing—so they went back the way they’d come, in silence. Trixie didn’t talk, and Starlight didn’t push it.
And eventually, Trixie did talk.
“Do you mean that?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“For…. real?”
“Trixie.” Starlight closed her eyes, and didn’t move. She just kept on leaning on Trixie. “I love Twilight, I love my friends and this town, but they’re not like us. They don’t know what it is like, to struggle with your own thoughts, or to… to be ashamed of who you were, and to have to live with that.”
Trixie nodded. “But you do.”
“And so do you. I didn’t know how lonely I was until you came to Ponyville and I wasn’t alone anymore,” Starlight said. “You don’t even have Twilight to guide you, but you still chose to become good for my sake.”
“When you put it like that.” Trixie smiled again, though this time it didn’t quite feel like a grin. “So we’re the same, then?” She flicked her tail a little, just to poke Starlight with it. “Explains why you’re so great.”
“Right back at you,” Starlight giggled, brushed Trixie’s tail away from her face. “You know what I’m thinking.”
“Oh, I always know what you’re thinking.”
Starlight giggled again, but then she went on anyway. “I think that it’ll get easier with time. It might never go away—our past is part of what we are, and we’ll never change that. But it’ll get easier, if we’re here to help each other.”
“Right. Starlight?”
“Trixie.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Starlight sighed. “Now it’s just a matter of controlling witchcraft so it feels the same way we do—but I don’t think that’ll be an issue. You are a natural, after all.”
“I am so great at it,” Trixie said, nodding. She waved and a rogue broom across the corridor stopped moving. “But we never found any treasure under your bed, right?”
“Not really. You did use it during your show, though. And it was great, by the way! Even if you felt bad while at it, it really was one of your best.”
Trixie turned around to look at Starlight, mid-flight. “You think?”
“For sure! I didn’t know witchcraft could be so flashy.” Starlight shook her head, smile on her face. “And keep in mind I knew how you were doing it. Did you see the ponies in the audience? Their faces? I’m sure you blew their minds with some of those tricks.”
Trixie stuck her chest out, smug grin on her face. “Well, yes, that’s the point. You don’t meet a witch as perfect as I every day, I must say.”
“You don’t meet a witch period. You’re the first one in centuries, remember?” Starlight reached forward and poked Trixie’s hat. “I’d be surprised if most of the ponies out there even knew that witches existed. Not everypony’s as well-read as Twilight and I.”
Trixie arched an eyebrow, and then—slowing down the broom so she could control it—inched closer to Starlight, sneaking under her reaching hoof. “Ooh. Is that a brag?”
Starlight winked at her. “It’s a fact, actually.”
“Well, isn’t that—”
And then there was a ring outside.
Starlight blinked. “Was that the doorbell?”
“I think yes? Are we expecting somepony.”
“Not at all.” And then it dawned on Starlight that they had heard the doorbell, which meant that… “The screaming outside stopped. For the mud explosion?”
“Oh. Huh. You’re right.” Trixie perked up her ears. “But it isn’t raining yet, is it? No way they cleaned it up already.”
The doorbell rang again.
“We should probably go check who it is.” Starlight shrugged. “Who knows, maybe this is witchcraft happening. Maybe somepony’s here to clean the library! You asked for that, after all.”
“Oh, that’d be great.”
They opened the door.
“There it is!” said the voice of an old mare. “See? I told you!”
Most of Ponyville was on the other side.
Dozens. Hundreds, really. Pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies; every single one staring at Trixie and Starlight, stern looks in their eyes. Some of them were carrying ropes. Some were carrying torches. Most were covered in mud.
In front of them all, the one who’d rang the doorbell—an old yellow mare with green eyes and a gentle face. She had poofy hair and smelled like cats. She was wearing a pink shawl and spoke with a southern accent.
She was Goldie Delicious, the Apple Family record keeper, and owner of the cats that had taken over Ponyville.
And she was holding a book in her hooves.
“A hat! Check.” She pointed at Trixie’s hat. “And she’s flying on a broom, and there’s a lovely lady with her that she’s seducin’—hi there, Starlight, how are you today—and my kitties, too! See?” She turned to look at the crowd behind her. “It’s all checks. I told you! That one’s a witch.”
Starlight and Trixie leaned to the side so they could take a look at the book Goldie Delicious was holding. Familiar cover. Tales of the Macabre. This one wasn’t a knock-off, and it didn’t have any typos.
“And the hat looks exactly like the one in the picture!” Goldie Delicious added, waving the book side to side. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Er.” Starlight jumped off the broom, and awkwardly stepped to the door. “Goldie Delicious?”
“Starlight!” Goldie Delicious grinned, and shook Starlight’s hoof. She was surprisingly strong for such an old mare. “It’s been a long time! How are you doing, dear?”
“Right, yes, nice to see you too. Doing fine. Um.” And Starlight pointed at the crowd. “What is this?”
“We’re a mob!”
“Right.”
“Mmm-hm, mm-hm.” Goldie Delicious nodded, and tapped the book. “Well! You see, I saw that little show your friend put at Town Square, and even with the mud and all, why, I couldn’t help but think it all felt familiar. And I was right!” She grinned.
Starlight looked at Tales of the Macabre. “You own that book too.”
Goldie Delicious tapped her temple twice, winking at Starlight. “I’m a record keeper! I know aaall there is to know about the Apple Family, see?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And one thing the Apples were always good at was takin’ care of witches! And that friend o’ yours.” Goldie pointed at Trixie again. “That’s a witch. And you know how’s it with ‘em witches.” Goldie shrugged, apologetic smile on her face. “You gotta burn’em at the stake! It’s tradition.”
And behind her, the crowd got closer, raising the torches a bit higher.
Starlight and Trixie gulped at the same time, and the sounds harmonized.
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The "nothing personal, it's just that it's traditional to murder the **** out of you and I ain't gonna mess with tradition" sorts are a deep well of comedy... and horror, when you consider that Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre is basically that plus a literal mental handicap.
The mud explosion was literal Discord-tier chaos.
So much heart and so much surreal humour.
Of course ponies would immediately form a mob to burn the witch. That's what ponies do. They need more pitchforks though.
Nah, you've got it all wrong. It's not witches you burn, it's tax collectors.
https://m.youtube.com/results?search_query=a+taxing+story
10087053
Well said. Both horror and comedy do get an extra bit of, for the lack of a better term, weight when using real life elements, like traditionalism on this case.
Well shit
Fuck.
What a lovely moral, and a twist I should have seen coming. XD
aww! it's great to see a deep dive into what makes the Starlight and Trixie pairing work, with their commonality of having to struggle against the urge to do bad things. and the callbacks and payoffs you've built in are great, like the enchanted brooms not doing the corners, or the history of witches and tradition that was laid out at the beginning of the tale. to have the Apple Family record keeper be the one to remember the old tales, and the Apples themselves as the earthpony founders of this superstitious and easily panicked town having a proud tradition of witch-burning is very fitting
I love how nonchalant she's just being about burning Trixie at the stake. It really sounds like she's like - "Yeah, this ain't nothing personal. I just have this book and I'm part of the Apple Family so I have to follow tradition. Sorry, but I have to burn you on the stake. I promise it's nothing personal."
This was a great chapter.