The Roots of the Hate
“Nnn…it’s your choice,” Professor Flintheart muttered, dropping the red ribbon bow back into the box and turning away. “Spend your time learning to become a powerful unicorn, or…play with your toys and make nothing of yourself.” He kicked the box of Hearth’s Warming decorations back at the filly Snowfall Frost before strutting away and out of the classroom. Filly Snowfall looked down in despair.
Invisible behind her stood the adult Snowfall alongside the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past. Snowfall remembered this moment all too well. Once, she’d enjoyed Hearth’s Warming Eve, but after this, she’d seen just how unnecessary it was for her, for Equestria, for a perfect world…right? Sh-she had been all about it for a while, there. A-and everypony else really seemed to enjoy it. No. It wasn’t helpful, it was distracting—that’s all any sort of superfluous fun was, anyway. But…one would think that all of Equestria can’t be wrong. What were the chances that only she saw the truth?
But she wasn’t the only one, she only thought that because of…
“Um,” she spoke up, “Spirit?” The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past looked over to her. “I was just wondering. Am I the first pony you’ve had to do this with? Try and convince them of the value of Hearth’s Warming Eve?”
“You’re the first us spirits have visited, yes,” the Spirit responded.
“No, I mean,” Snowfall said, “am I the first that’s needed to be convinced?”
The Spirit raised an eyebrow. “You’re the first we’ve had to stop who had the power to erase the holiday.”
It knew what she meant, she could tell. Well, here goes. “Could…,” Snowfall said, “could you show me why Professor Flintheart hated Hearth’s Warming Eve in the first place?”
The Spirit sighed. “I was hopin’ I wouldn’t have to do this.” Snowfall immediately regretted speaking up.
The room was obscured in a white glow, and Snowfall felt herself being pulled backwards through a whirlwind of—the glow faded. She looked around. They were standing in the center of the same town, but some of the buildings were smaller and others were missing entirely. Snow was covering the ground again, and foals ran back and forth with gifts. Decorations abounded and holiday spirit filled the air. This would all have been so familiar, if she’d recognized any of the ponies around town. Then she saw a colt who looked familiar. Faded beigish-tan coat, plate gray mane; that was Flintheart, all right. But…the outfit. A bright red and green scarf, a holiday sweater only a grandmother could knit, was this really the same pony? And that smile. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before.
“Why does he dislike Hearth’s Warming Eve so much?” Snowfall asked the Spirit as she watched the young Flintheart run over to a snowpony with several other foals. “I would never get that from him now.”
“T’wasn’t now that was the problem,” the Spirit responded somberly. A blue glow washed across them and the scenery changed to inside a candle-lit house.
“You call this a passing grade?” said a stern voice. Snowfall turned to see the young Flintheart standing meekly in front of a stallion of a similarly drab coloring presumed to be his father, holding a piece of paper in his magic’s grip. “If you weren’t so distracted by the holidays and had actually studied, you may have convinced me you’d be able to make something of yourself. Hearth’s Warming can do nothing but get in the way of everything. Work hard, learn, and use your skills to better Equestria. Since you’ve clearly forsaken the first two, the third is out of your reach. Well, as they say, those who can’t do, teach. Perhaps you could still salvage some semblance of a living with that.”
Snowfall stood silently. So, that’s why he’d told her to choose. Because he felt he’d chosen wrong himself. But, then…
“The seeds of the past were planted long ago,” said the Spirit. “Would you like to see how deep the roots go?”
“N-no?” Snowfall whimpered. The Spirit just looked through her. The world was covered by another white glow.
Outside in a holiday-decked town again. Snowfall looked around and quickly found Flintheart’s father as a young stallion standing on a street corner, hovering a present beside him, waiting eagerly. Then from across the street came a silvery gray pegasus mare who had an ocean blue mane with a purple streak through it.
“Hey, Mayfly!” he called, bringing the present out and waving it. “Happy Hearth’s Warming!”
“Oh, that’s, uh…,” Mayfly quickly flew the rest of the way over and pushed the present down, “that’s really not necessary.”
“Oh come on,” he said, lifting it back up, “it’s the spirit of the holidays.”
“No, really,” she said in a suddenly stern voice, “I mean it. Are you trying to make me feel like I’m going out with a little foal?”
Flintheart’s father looked surprised by this change in attitude. “What are you talking about? Mayfly?”
“This is why I try to know someone at every time of year first,” she continued softly, looking away, “so I’d know if they’d let themselves get caught up by stuff like that. When I met you, I took a chance because I wanted to think that I’d found somepony like me, somepony who knew better.” Mayfly glanced back at him. “It seems like I made a mistake.” She turned and walked away, leaving him standing in shocked confusion staring after her.
“What the hay was that about?” Snowfall said aloud, before realizing what she’d just invoked. The world was covered by a white glow.
They were inside again. The door burst open and a filly Mayfly ran in giddily.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming Vacation!” she squeed, looking around the house with a big smile. Then she paused. “Where are all of the decorations?” she asked in confusion. Snowfall looked around to see the wooden interior of the house rather barren of holiday cheer. Kind of like her own. A dull red pegasus mare walked into the room. Mayfly turned to the newcomer. “Do you need my help getting them out?” she asked, jumping up and hovering in air.
The mare looked down at Mayfly. “You aren’t celebrating Hearth’s Warming Eve anymore,” she said, “nor will this house ever again.”
“Huh?” Mayfly said in a deflating voice, dropping back to the floor. “W-why not? Mother…”
“You will learn that there are many harsh truths and unpleasant realities in this world,” her mother said. “Somepony wasting time celebrating such merriment is only showing that they do not understand this, or worse, that they are trying to ignore it. The earlier you reject such jubilant trivialities, the smarter and more mature you show yourself to be. Beware those who let themselves be blinded by them. You cannot truly trust ponies who refuse to accept reality as it is.”
Snowfall just stood there, watching the joy quickly drain from Mayfly’s face. Snowfall herself had probably been called heartless once or twice, but she would never…she was always trying to improve things, not cause sadness. But, isn’t that what this mare was intending? Me, Professor Flintheart, his father, Mayfly, and now Mayfly’s mother? How far back…? “This is starting to get a little creepy,” she said in a worried tone. “Y-you can stop now. Spirit?” The world was covered by a white glow.
They stood outside of a worse-for-wear house in yet another snowy town. A dull red pegasus filly carried a wrapped gift on her back, balanced by her spread wings, walking nervously up the front steps. Three other foals cowered behind some nearby bushes, one peeking over.
Snowfall looked to the Spirit. “Why are you still showing me this? None of these reasons are mine!”
The filly reached the door and paused before knocking. However much she wanted to, Snowfall couldn’t look away for long.
“Who is it?” came a gruff voice from inside. The door opened and the head of an old cobalt blue stallion stuck out, looking down at the filly. “What do you want?”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve!” she exclaimed, giving a jump.
The stallion stared at her suspiciously. “What’s this?”
“It’s a present, silly,” she replied, leaning forward to tilt the box towards him. “I haven’t seen anypony come by your place all day, and I think it’s only fair for everypony to get a present on Hearth’s Warming—”
The stallion knocked the present off of her back, sending in tumbling into the snow; the filly jumped back in surprise. “Fair?” he grunted. “Don’t talk about fair like you think you know anything yet. Listen, kid, the world isn’t fair, so don’t waste your time trying to make it. If you don’t accept that your role is in a cold world soon enough, you’ll be lost forever. I learned that long ago, and you’d do well to do the same.”
Snowfall turned to the Spirit and pleaded, “Please. I-I’ve seen enough. I beg of you!” The world was covered by a white glow.
Again they were outside, now in a chilly town square, decorated but in hoof-folded wreaths and only the odd candle, with a line of foals in front of a pony handing out toys from a large bag. As the line quickly ran its course, a cobalt blue colt looked out from an alley, wearing a dirty rag for a scarf. Upon seeing the pony with the bag, his face lit up and he scampered over to the end of the line. As the last few foals ahead of him were given toys, the bag began to visibly empty. The filly in front of him was given a teddy bear, but when he stepped up and the pony looked into the bag now lying flat on the ground, they simply turned to the colt and shrugged. Disappointed but not deterred, the colt turned and raced off down a side street. Snowfall looked to the Spirit, who stood silently watching the scene, as if she had viewed these events many times before and was saddened by the ultimate outcome she knew by heart. All the same, Snowfall dashed after the colt.
Figuring she could probably run through the buildings but sticking to the open paths anyway, she soon caught up with and saw the colt entering another line of foals leading to a second pony passing out toys from a bag. No sooner had he joined the line, however, and with five other foals still in front of him, that it stopped from another empty bag. The colt didn’t even wait for all of the foals ahead of him to realize the situation before bolting again, now with desperation. Snowfall again took off after him.
Rounding another turn, she found herself at the edge of town, all candle lights and holiday cheer having stopped far behind her, the only two in sight being the colt standing in front of yet another pony, a stallion, with yet another empty bag.
“Everyone’s out?” asked the cobalt colt.
“I’m sorry, kid,” sighed the stallion, “but sometimes life ain’t fair. Just look at me, I shoulda been done an hour ago, myself.”
The last of the colt’s determination had faded from his voice. “How can they be out of toys on Hearth’s Warming Eve?” he pined. “Don’t they even…”
The stallion sighed. “They might—might—have a few left over back at the delivery yard,” the colt perked up, “but it’s an hour to the place and another hour back, night’s falling, it’s freezing out, and they won’t pay me overtime to get somethin’ for one kid.” Disappointment returned to the colt’s eyes. “Sorry, but I’m just too tired out to try. Been on the clock since yesterday, anyhow.” The stallion turned away, tossing the empty sack over his back. “Maybe if you’d caught me sooner.” He began trudging away through the snow towards a hill. The colt hung his head low and turned away as well. Snowfall could do nothing but watch.
Working too hard. That’s what this all traced back to. “Work hard, learn, and use your skills to better Equestria.” Those words. She hadn’t realized what they could…
“You aren’t the first to have a reason to dislike this holiday,” said the Spirit, suddenly beside her again, “and you surely won’t be the last.” She looked Snowfall in the eyes. “But you don’t have to just be another.” The Spirit looked back forward. “Be thankful this didn’t go too many levels deep. If we’d followed it much further, we may not have been able to get back. That’s the danger of gettin’ caught up in the past.”
A glowing white doorway appeared beside them. The Spirit turned away and walked through it. Snowfall looked back to see the pony pass over the hill and disappear from sight. She stood for a minute, letting it all sink in. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps I should… mend my ways. She walked through the doorway, the white glow obscuring her vision—
She opened her eyes to the cauldron of bubbling green liquid she was standing in front of. Huh? She was back in her house…but, was she really “back”? Had she even left, or was that all just…? She turned to see a giant pink and blue wrapped present standing off to the side of her room . . .