Rarity Lives
“You—you decided to write a song about it?”
“Of course,” answered Pinkie Pie rather flatly. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. In her mind, no new dilemma would be complete without a cheerful song to go along with it.
Standing before my front door was one of my best friends: a pink-coated, pink-maned pony with an unwaveringly jovial disposition by the name of Pinkie Pie. She smiled and stared at me with wide, unyielding eyes that made you scared not to smile with her. It was apparent that she couldn’t wait to share her song with me.
Pinkie Pie and I were ponies. We lived in the land of Equestria, a magical place inhabited by ponies, pegasi, unicorns, and a few special winged unicorns called alicorns. In Equestria, the sky was always clear as long as we moved the clouds away. We lived and breathed joy and laughter. Singing a happy tune was a part of our daily regimen. This thing I had developed—this cancer, though I could barely bring myself to say the word—didn’t seem at place here.
Despondence had consumed me. I didn’t know how to tell anyone, so I hadn’t. I lived with my secret for weeks until, unable to bear the turmoil any longer, I had finally entrusted it to Pinkie Pie. I knew that if anypony could free me from my agony, even if momentarily, she could.
Optimism was her shield. She could simply laugh away the direst of situations. In fact, in the course of our time together, I had witnessed her laugh in the faces of ghosts and dragons. Now, it seemed as though not even the news of my impending demise could dent that impenetrable shield of hers.
The young, curly-maned pony before me was grinning madly, unable to contain her excitement about the song she had composed for me. Pinkie Pie took a deep breath and sang:
You may be sad and blue today
But don’t worry ‘bout a thing, okay?
‘Cause even though you have cancer
And we know there is no answer
Remember you’re still here with me
And I’m here to make you happy!
Exhausted by the energy required of this particular effort, she began panting. Once she had caught her breath, she looked up to me, apparently curiously anticipating my reaction.
“That was—” I began. She smiled wider, but I grimaced. “That was… nice, Pinkie Pie.”
To my relief, she seemed content with that answer.
“Oh, goodie! Is there anything else I can do to cheer you up?”
It was difficult for me to be honest with her. She was so cheerful—so looking forward to the next great adventure, to the next happy song—but my despicable condition had compelled me to dwell on the past. I hadn’t appreciated my happiest times because I had never considered that my time in this world would be so brief.
“I’ve been considering my youth,” I answered with some hesitation. “I remember a playground I would frequently visit as a young filly. I used to play in one swing in particular almost every day. But it’s gone now. With age, it has corroded and dilapidated irreparably. No one else will ever know what it’s like to swing there, and I certainly won’t now. I would love to feel like that carefree filly once again, even if just for a moment.”
My somber revelation failed to dampen her mood.
“Hey, that’s perfect!” she said, much to my surprise. “You didn’t think I came all the way to visit you just to sing a song, now did you, silly? See, I have two—count ‘em, two—tickets to tonight’s opera in Canterlot! I bought them because I know how much you like boring stuff, Rarity!”
I stared at the tickets, not knowing what to think. I had been saving up my gems for an occasion such as this, but in my sickness, I had forgotten all about it.
“Well,” I pondered, “I suppose spending one night in Equestria’s most luxurious city is exactly what I need to clear my mind. All right, I’ll go with you, Pinkie Pie.”
Her excitement couldn’t be contained. Before I could say or do anything else, she grabbed my front hoof and yanked me out the door.
We traveled that night by flying stagecoach, the most common mode of transportation for those flying to and from Canterlot. The vehicle consisted of a carriage with two pegasi propelling it forward through the air.
Although there were no bumpy roads to deal with as we soared toward Canterlot, it was still a noisy ride—because Pinkie Pie couldn’t stop herself from chatting gaily throughout it. I nodded and smiled as she rambled on about all the things she had heard about the making of the production and the ponies who would be taking part. Still feeling ill, I took care to appear interested in every detail she discussed.
Finally, we landed directly in front of Canterlot’s Grand Opera House, an ornate, towering structure of gold and white. Its massive white doors dwarfed me, Pinkie Pie, and the two larger pegasi who flew us here.
“Shall we?” Pinkie Pie said, jauntily hopping toward those intimidatingly large doors. With little time to react, I quickly thanked our transportation and followed Pinkie Pie into the opera house.
We were late. A large crowd of perhaps hundreds of ponies had already been seated. The lights had been dimmed.
Pinkie Pie hurriedly handed over our tickets and made her way to the nearest pair of open seats, humming the whole way in spite of the hushed crowd. With some embarrassment, I followed Pinkie Pie and took the seat next to her.
A moment later, the lights at the front of the stage lit up. At center stage, a gray-coated pony with a black mane and a pink bowtie stood before the crowd on her two hind legs, holding a large cello. Looking prepared and professional, her expression was one of sublime confidence.
For now, there were no set pieces or costumes. All that was on the stage was this sole pony looking down on all of us. She lowered her head and examined the audience with a peculiar sense of purpose in her ominous, light-violet eyes.
It seemed that this was a prelude to the opera.
Silence filled the room. I could sense that this pony was about to play something dreadful.
A moment later, with her eyes closed and her bow in her hoof, she played the cello with meticulous precision. There was a slow and melancholy quality to the piece she played. I had never heard the particular melody before, but it somehow seemed strangely familiar. I found it haunting and otherworldly—foreboding, even.
Her full concentration was not on her work, however. As she played, she opened her eyes to scan the crowd from pony to pony, almost as though she was searching for something she had lost. I shivered. A sense of fear overcame me, so I averted my eyes and tried to concentrate on her music; but it could not be avoided. I soon felt her eyes approaching mine.
She continued to play, but eventually, her gaze fell upon my eyes. In that moment of connected thought, she presented a morbid, solemn smile. It almost seemed as though this mysterious pony was wishing me goodbye.
In an instant, I thought of all the things that would soon come to end—this song, my friends, my life—a life that in many ways I had not yet begun to live.
I whimpered, struggling to suppress a cry. A single tear managed to escape my freshly swollen eyes.
Pinkie Pie glanced at me. The lights faded. The opera moved on, but my mind strayed. An elaborately designed garden scene had been established for the first act of the opera, but I couldn’t concentrate on that now. All I could think about was how I got here and what I would do with my final moments in Equestria.
Equestria was a wondrous place. I always considered myself fortunate to have been born in it. Every pony here had a purpose—a reason to live—and we all knew what that was from a young age. Mine was to design clothes, or at least that’s what I thought it was until I developed this dire, contemptible disease. The whole notion of fashion seemed a senseless, conceited pursuit now.
To what end did my ceaseless preoccupation with fashionability serve? I recalled that I had once agonized over making dresses for my friends, who would later wear them at the Grand Galloping Gala. The gala was the most important affair in the world, as it was spearheaded by Equestria’s royal leader, the alicorn Princess Celestia. When we finally arrived at the gala, however, everything that could possibly go awry did, and by the event’s end, my dresses had been ruined. But Celestia herself didn’t mind. In fact, she told us that it was expected.
With my life’s end inevitably approaching, the thought that I had squandered my brief time in this world succumbing to the arbitrary whims of a capricious alicorn filled me with dismay. She had exhausted her wealth on that extravagant party, and she had done so at the expense of us, her own citizens. Meanwhile, back in my hometown of Ponyville, entropy prevailed. I thought of the playground I used to play in as a filly, and I thought of the swing that had given away to rust and decay. If only I could get a piece of that back, I thought.
The room roared with applause. The players on the stage, smiling from the audience’s warm reception, bowed in delight. Flowers of all varieties were tossed forward.
Finally out of my thoughts, I too clapped my hooves together.
“Thank you, Pinkie Pie,” I said. “This was indeed exactly what I needed to clear my head. Please, Pinkie Pie—don’t let anyone else know what has happened to me. I have important work to do.”
But she was already at the front of the stage eating the tossed flowers. Exasperated by her antics, I sighed.
I walked out of the theater that night no longer dwelling on my cancer. Instead, all I could think of was that old swing set I used to play in as a filly. I knew I couldn’t completely reconcile my life. I didn’t have enough time left to change the world. I did, however, have enough time to change something—and maybe that was all that mattered.
Five months later, I left this world.
My funeral took place in the Ponyville Cemetery, a place few had seen or visited, as death was such a rare occurrence in Equestria. But with the news of my passing, it seemed as though every resident of my hometown of Ponyville had gathered there. Although it contained very few graves, the cemetery was rather large, with a vast, green field that easily accommodated the crowd.
My own grave was the latest addition. Lying next to it was a closed, wooden, pony-shaped casket. My tombstone was a simple, gray concrete piece with an image of three gems engraved on the top half. Below the gems, my epitaph had been inscribed in bold lettering. It consisted of three simple words: A beautiful heart.
The sky was clear and blue that day. A cool breeze permeated the dry daytime air.
The town’s mayor, an older pony with a dark-yellow coat and gray mane, stood in front of the curious crowd. Standing firm and resolute, she projected a demeanor of dignified solemnity that suited her mayoral status.
There were murmurs among the crowd as the ponies waited for the mayor to speak. Some asked why I had kept my condition a secret. Others speculated on how I spent my final days.
At the front of that crowd were my five best friends: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and, of course, Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie had managed to keep my condition secret. Maybe she was in denial, but her optimistic spirit remained intact during these past few months.
Now that she was here at my funeral with her friends, however, she was able to let herself go. It was a pitiful sight to see Pinkie Pie, the embodiment of laughter, with tears flowing down her eyes. My four other friends cried for me, too. The news of my passing must have been a terrible surprise for them.
Finally, the mayor spoke. She may have been old, but her voice was loud and strong—almost regal, in fact.
“Citizens of Ponyville and dear friends, I thank you for coming here today to remember a beloved white unicorn, a diligent designer of fashionable clothes, and a devoted friend to us all who will be sincerely missed: Rarity. She was a much-loved pony admired for her beauty, her talent, and, of course, her generosity.”
A tearful, European-accented voice from the crowd wailed, “She was—ze magicks!”
“Ahem,” the mayor continued. “Yes, quite right, indeed. Her generosity was truly a magical thing not only to her friends, but also to Princess Celestia herself. If only the princess could have been here today, I have no doubt she would have only kind words to say.”
Without warning, the sun brightened, and the ponies in the crowd squinted. At the same time, the unmistakable sound of an alicorn’s grand wings could be heard traversing the wind.
Just as though mentioning the name had summoned her, Princess Celestia had arrived. In mere moments, she had descended in front of the mayor. The majestic white alicorn stood taller than any pony in the crowd. Everyone present, including the mayor, bowed in subservience to the princess.
“There is no need to bow today,” Princess Celestia said, looking down at the mayor. Confused by this momentary abandonment of tradition, the mayor hesitated. She eventually stood up, and the crowd followed her lead.
“P-princess,” stammered the mayor. “We thought you weren’t able to make it today.”
Celestia seemed despondent. She lowered her head and glanced at the crowd with an uncharacteristic sense of guilt, then returned her attention to the mayor.
“For those of us who have done harm, it is reasonable to fear the truth. As of late, I have been wary of introspection. I am a monarch of this land, and I am in a unique position to tend for it. It is a vital responsibility—and it is my responsibility—but I have not done all that I could. Only a heart of both generosity and courage could show me that. That beautiful heart, of course, belonged to Rarity.”
The crowd reacted with incredulity, staring at Celestia in stunned silence. The princess continued to speak.
“Rarity met with me often during the last several months. She pleaded with me to a repair a playground that had become dilapidated. I will admit I sent her away. I said a project such as that would not be worth the time and resources it required. She suggested I could redistribute the funds from my galas and parties for royalty and socialites, but I failed to listen. Once I had denied her request, she would leave, but she would then come back the next day and make the same request.
“Ponies bow to me not just for the sake of reverence. They fear me. Even the most resilient leaders, such as you, mayor, fear me. Rarity, however, had no fear to speak of. I mistook her passion for obstinacy. I cannot recall how many times it was that she came to me, but it was too many to count. On one occasion, she came to me looking especially weary—near the verge of death, in fact—so I surrendered. It was not out of my own generosity, I am ashamed to say. No, it was out of pity.
“Her playground opened the day she died. I have a feeling that she was waiting to see it completed.”
Celestia took a moment to pause and think.
“I cannot say if I know that Rarity grasped the profundity of her determination. She cared for the opinion of no one. In her fearlessness, she behaved as though she believed that it is action alone that matters. A pony is not her wishes, nor her intentions, but she simply is what she does. Rarity discovered a way to vindicate not only her death, but her life, as well. Fellow ponies, I implore you to take Rarity’s example to heart. Do as Rarity did, and discover for yourselves what it means to live.”
Celestia turned to face the crowd. Twilight Sparkle, a typically introverted pony, felt compelled to speak.
“’One more change.’ When she was crafting the dresses for your gala, Princess, she sang those words. We don’t have to change the world, but regardless of what anypony thinks, we can all do what Rarity did and make just one more change—one that will have a lasting impact.”
“Twilight’s right,” added a scratchy-voiced Rainbow Dash. “I’ve been so busy showing off and stuff that I never really thought about, you know, sharing my skill with other ponies. Maybe I could try coaching or something.”
“I reckon I could share some of my apple pies and such with those who can’t afford none,” Applejack chimed in.
“I—I suppose, maybe, I could try babysitting more often… even though it’s really hard,” Fluttershy managed to add.
The epiphanic fervor quickly spread throughout the crowd. Soon, almost every pony present was sharing what they could do to make one more change. All credited me, Rarity, with the newfound inspiration.
“Rarity would be proud,” Twilight Sparkle said. “I wish she could be here to see this.”
No longer appearing guilty, but now satisfied, Celestia turned back to the mayor.
“Please, finish your eulogy, mayor,” she said, “and I do apologize for the interruption.”
“Ahem. Of course, Princess. As I was saying, if only the princess could have been here today, I have no doubt she would have only kind words to say….”
Five more months passed by.
Despite the assurances that had been made during my funeral, the promised commitments to change had not been fulfilled. Rainbow Dash had failed to begin her coaching program, Applejack forgot all about her idea to share her resources, and Fluttershy never dared babysit. A stickler for tradition, even Princess Celestia continued hosting her expensive, extravagant parties.
Pinkie Pie still had hope, however. Where she once saw every moment as an opportunity to have fun, she now saw every moment as an opportunity to inspire. She talked about me endlessly, and she tried to convey my message of change whenever she could.
One late, chilly evening, when the sky was almost gray and snow had just begun to fall, Pinkie Pie decided to visit my cherished swing. She sat there, clinging to the chilled rails, contemplating our time together.
She hummed the melody of the opera house’s gray pony. That peculiar, melancholy music was my impetus for change, and Pinkie Pie never forgot that.
My spirit was with her that evening. Together, we hummed; and together, we lived.
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Wow. That was depressing. Depressing, yet very well written. Good... work? You've earned my five, guy.
Wow... I may never see Rarity the same way again.
Well, that was kinda sad... Very well written though. you've earned 5 stars and a happy pinkie
Ooookay, depressing much?
I like it, but I'm always expecting that Something good could happen.
I*beg* of you, continue! 1: because the ponies wouldn'r be as inconsiderate as they are in this story, and 2:because I'm waiting for Rarity to live again.
You know, I actually found this almost as touching as My Little Dashie, I just didn't cry (sorry Rarity)
Well, you got a tear out of me. So that means you did something good.
I cried, but I also smiled the whole time.
It was sad, but in a happy way. If that makes any sense. I loved it.
97587 I concur
Way too fast paced for me - I think the loss of her mane would have revealed Rarity more. Skipping her last five months was kind of a large skip, and I would have liked it a lot more if you had taken the time to delve into her acceptance of her own death over time.
Bravo, sir or madam. Very depressing, well written, and over all a great plot.
Aww... So sad...
That was lovely.. I agree, it does need a sequel of some sort.
i dont always read sad storys............but when I do they are well writon and very sad, stay sad my friends
i dont under stand why I love to read sad and depresing fan fics
that was a amazing yet sad story
this one is download worthy
and i thought this was going to be a funny story rarity and pinky going on a epic journey but it was sad and so i shed a manly tear
Inspired by Ikiru?
I never thought of Rarity as a favorite character, but this really made me start thinking. ... And sobbing...
Five stars.
Great story. I know it's completed, but at the very least I'd like to see a sort of spiritual sequel to this.
Also..
98023
I think that severe illness is a rarity in Equestria, not found oft. It'd make sense to me that there would be little in the way of treatments to help her.
It's not the cancer that causes a patient to lose their hair, but the harsh effects of chemotherapy.
98628
I know cancer doesn't cause her to lose her mane. >.> My grandma had cancer...
But I feel like Rarity is so vain that it would have been a good thing to include.
Also, I realize my comment sounded mean, but I really did like the story!
You amazingly got me to tear up and I hope to read more of your stories soon.
I think this is a well written fic with some nice insightful stuff in it. However I do feel that the premise really lets it down. The bizarre disconnect by using lymphosarcoma against a happy normal pony world just had me laughing out loud at the synopsis alone, and I know that isn't the tone you wanted, but it's something that stuck with me. The idea that a magical cartoon pony could die from something as horrible and specific as lymphosarcoma is so ridiculous that it becomes funny.
A man that gets hit by a car is sad, not funny. A man that gets hit by a giant flaming meteor covered in nuclear bombs and bullets constantly shooting out is funny not sad. Overkill, but you get the idea.
A beautiful heart. That was when i teared up,
but overall the story was uplifting, and on a side not, when I read the part about the opera song, I'm reminded of pachelbel canon in D. Am I the only one who thinks that?
..DUN, dun dun another one bits the dust.
I don't always give five stars. But when I do, its because they make me cry
. You've earned then.
Lovely work. I look forward to your future efforts!
I remember when you sent this to me for a beta-read over on FanFiction.net. (Yep, it's RLYoshi! Hello! Yeah, I don't have an account here. Whaddya gonna do.) Good to know you decided to upload it to this site, and even better that you've been getting such good responses! I still love this story, and it deserves all five of the stars I'm giving it.
Keep writing, friend. You've got a gift that deserves to be shared.
99017 Hi, RLYoshi. Thanks again for beta-reading my story. I actually didn't even realize this site existed until yesterday. I had intended to direct you here, but it looks like you already found your way here on your own.
Although I've only been signed up for about a day, I can already tell I like the people here.
I will take your advice and continue writing. Again, thank you.
Sad face.
The story was fairly interesting...however, I have some issues with the way you began it. Specifically, the unnecessary details.
There's no reason for Rarity to write about her experiences as if there was some other species that would read the story. Why bother explaining what ponies are, or what Equestria is? Unless there's a specific in story reason for it, such as an altered timeline, or the story being written while in an alternate universe, or something else along those lines...there is literally no good reason for Rarity to explain what ponies are and what Equestria is. Writing down those excessive details can harm the story, because it makes it harder for a reader to get into it.
This was amazing. I wanted to see Rarity's last 5 months, though. It was beautiful, uplifiting, and a great reminder of the human psyche. I loved it.
99047 Yeah, I read stories on here quite a bit, and I noticed this story in the reccommendations in the top bit and it looked familiar. I read it and instantly recognized it.
You just made me look past Rarity's imperfections. Her overdramatic behavior, tendency to be snobby. Everybody has faults, but in the face of death, the good become perfect. We shirk off our imperfections and become truly happy. Rarity is much more generous than I took her for. While I can't say I enjoyed how nopony kept to their promises, it was a great fic and it made me cry. Good job.
gonna read this cause Vyreinos is being a bitch and not uploading part 11 of teardrops and snowflakes
glad i read it now. you earned my five now im gonna go cry a little
Ah, this makes me tear up, I lost my brother to rhabdomyosarcoma when I was 9 so this story tugs the heart strings pretty rough.
Cancer doesn't make you lose hair, it's the chemo therapy. Just a little nit pick for an otherwise good story
as soon as all the ponys started saying what they could do i teared up hen they didn't and i was like :rainbow huh: but after wen pinkie sat on the swing i was
got a little misty eyed not bad
I am sorry to say that, due to complications and
A bad habit of reading to much
I did not cry and i did not sniffle, In fact i sat through this story with A small grin on my face.
My heart has been hardened and built up a resistance to Sad by Things such as "My Little Dashie" And has been darkened
By the filth of the internet.
I get the message you were trying to condone, but it fell on deaf ears when you passed it my way.
Apologies.
Cheers
~iraqlobstah
Girly tears were shed.
100765
indeed...
Man.... this made me smile at first but then... the end is just sad and happy I cannot describe it
99333 I remember hearing advice from a reader to write as though you were writing for someone who had never heard of My Little Pony, Equestria, or any of that. I decided to follow that advice, although you may be right that the story takes too long to get started as a result. In the future, I think I'll try to make establishing the world a more seamless part of the narrative.
106043
That's good. Thank you.
Meanwhile sweetie bell is at her parents house wondering where the hell Rarity has been for the last year
From the description I honestly expected a longer story but it is well written and sappy as hell (as expected)
But seriously not even a mention of sweetie bell. It's not like I'm begging for her to be in the story but she should have at least been at the funeral.
Unless she was and I missed it ............ In that case I'm and idiot and hope you can over look it
106820 Since this was a short story, I wanted to keep the number of characters to an absolute minimum, and I felt the inclusion of Rarity's family would have complicated things. On the other hand, perhaps a brief mention might have prevented this kind of question.
this reminds me a lot of another fanfic called pretty in pink. manly tears were shed. on a side note i always figured i would die from something like that though.......
okay...this thing im holding next to me...its my bag of stars...TAKE THEM ALL! Just dont tell anypony about the tears that were shed here
... I'm going to do some thinking now. really good stuff