I'll be honest, I was kind of skeptical to upload this, but I thought I'd may as well, instead of leaving a completed chapter to a story completely untouched.
I tried to set it in a kind of 'diary' style, whereby there not really any ponies talking, as such, more just Trixie expressing her feelings, and only Trixie.
It’s been tough these past year, or so. Things just don't seem to be going my way. Every single pony I've come across since that charade has just been treating me as a laughing stock. No surprise there, really, it's not like my past was full of happiness and laughter. I mean, I don't even know when ponies seemed to have this... almost complete hatred of me. It seems like it lasted as long as I've lived. I think the first time I could remember it happening was when I first got interested in magic. Goodness knows exactly when that was, but I know it was near or sometime during kindergarten. All the ponies there had the exact same ambitions, wanting to be fabulous in magic; a merit that can only be held by unicorns. I seemed to take a bit further, though. I wanted to be the star of a show, the one that would make audiences hundreds of thousands large gasp in awe at my amazing magical talent! Both of my parents were unicorns, which isn't really a surprise. I only know a few ponies in this entire country that have parents that are a different kind than what they are. Though, it seemed as though my father was very against me parading around my magical talent, as if I shouldn't be proud of who I am. It seemed to be the same conversation every single day during my youth. “But dad!” I'd say. I don't know what his problem was. He seemed to flat out despise any kind of magic I'd do, if it was done in a style I liked. It was either “Keep that racquet down!” or “Why don't you do something productive?” It went overboard when I reached about 5 when my father burst into my room, looking extremely angry. Previously, I had decided to do what you would expect a 5 year old filly to do; have a little magic show with her own toys. Only I decided to do it in the front room, whilst my father was at work. My mother didn't seemed fussed at me putting on this show, leaving it to typical filly behaviour. That is, until I accidentally broke one of my father's trophies. Obviously, I instantly regretted it and quickly headed up to my room with my toys. I hurried to find my super glue to try and get the broken statue back together. Father won it some years ago in a sports tournament. I can't remember exactly what it was exactly, details like that seem fuzzy nowadays. As I delicately tried to re-construct the statue, I had a big batch of fear enter my mind. 'How would my father react to this?' was the main question going through my mind at this point. As I placed the trophy back into the cabinet, I quickly rushed upstairs. Seconds later, my father walked in. He quickly saw something was amiss. He looked at the statue on the cabinet and saw the wet glue and broken pieces. Then, I heard hoofsteps coming up the stairs. I feared the worst. “What did you do my statue?!” My father's voice was booming and as serious as can be. I couldn't think of what to reply with. I just laid on my bed, completely silent. My father slapped me a few times with his hoof. It was clear that the thing I broke was something extremely important to him. After a while, he started to leave my room, before turning to me and saying these words; “If I EVER see you doing that magic crap again, you'll be OUT of this house. You got that, miss?” I just slowly nodded as he slammed my room door shut. I couldn't sleep that night, all I could do was cuddle up to my inanimate audience, crying for hours and hours. One of the only passions I've had up to this point has been completely destroyed by my father. 'It's just not fair' was all I was thinking.
Everyday at elementary school was either a case of very good, or completely horrible. Either everypony would gather around me at recess to check out what kind of awesome magic tricks I had on me. Or all the ponies would laugh at the amount of fuss I was making about a talent that hadn't earned my cutie mark yet. Pathetic. I think I got my cutie mark at about 7. I was in the middle in terms of getting my cutie mark; wasn't first, wasn't the last, just in the middle. My parents weren't really enthusiastic about my cutie mark, my father more so. He was still against my obsession with magic, but slowly started to accept it, as much as it hurt him. I still struggle to understand why a unicorn would have a hatred of magic. Maybe it's just a hatred of my kind of magic? I don't know. One day in elementary stood out to me, though. I was about 9 and I was performing another one of my recess magic performances, only this time some of the teachers decided to watch my performance. I can't remember exactly what I was trying to do to entertain the audience, but all I know is that it managed to get me in a massive amount of trouble. Some of the children were in hospital, because I messed up on one part. I think one of them died a few days later too. Let's just say that my father had enough after that incident. “That is the last straw, Trixie! I had just about enough of this magic bullshit! Go back home, pack your things and DON'T. EVER. COME. BACK!” So that was what I did. With more tears in my eyes than ever before, I packed as much as I could. My teddies, my costume and my favourite book; The Stories of Star Swirl the Bearded. I got it for my fourth birthday from one of my best friends. You can imagine the smile on my face when I got it. I must have read it at least 100 times, maybe more. I finished packing, said my goodbyes and heading out. That final door slam felt the loudest I had ever heard, because I knew from the moment on that I would never be able to return. I mean, what was the point in trying when my father was so against my type of magic ever since I started doing it? The new challenge for me was trying to find somewhere to stay. For the night? Or two? Or twenty? Living on the streets was very hard for a young pony like me. You might think it's absurd for a filly as young as I was to be kicked out of home, never to return, but my father was both loud and serious about it. I tried to return a day later, in the vain hope that my father would try again and try again at trying to raise me the way a father should. But alas, upon the door opening, I saw my father, who immediately slammed the door on me. I knocked again, only to hear a faint “Get lost!” from inside of the house. Never before had I felt so unloved. The first day of homelessness was probably the one where the depression really kicked in. I had lumbered my luggage with me while on the streets, going from door to door in each shop, hoping somepony would give a filly like me some food and drink to keep me healthy, but nopony was feeling generous it seemed. As the night started to rise, I found a bench in a nearby park that wasn't occupied at all. It had started raining at this point, but I didn't feel like sleeping on the floor. I had gotten up onto the wet and cold bench, grasped onto my suitcase tight and slowly began to close my eyes, when I was awoke by a booming voice. “Oi! Get offa that bench!” I quickly got off and ran far away. Turns out it was a guard at the park, which had some kind of 'no sleeping on benches' rule. So, to recap, my first day of being homeless; I was wet, cold, tired, hungry and thirsty.
My father is a very strange pony, some might say. The fact he kicked out his own daughter, pretty much for doing magic, might seem absurd, until you see the actual reasoning behind it. You see, my father isn't so much against magic, for obvious reasons, but more against magicians. There was something he said about a year before I was kicked out that I remember deeply. He was talking to my mother while I had 'gone to bed'. I could hear faint talking from downstairs, so I opened my door quietly, just so I could get a better idea what the conversation was about. My father was the one talking a lot of the time. I say talking, he was more ranting, like he always seems to do. Mother and I didn't like it as much as each other, but I remember this not being something that's been going on for a long time, more something quite recent. All I can remember him saying was that he doesn't like the way I parade around my 'stupid' magic and that I should engage in something worthwhile, as opposed to being 'another one of those crappy magicians' That could probably explain why my father kicked me out, he doesn't seem to like something I actually found myself enjoying. I had tried many things previously, some could say I was a bit desperate to find my cutie mark, before I found magic. I had tried the lot; writing, drawing, singing, sports, anything you can imagine. No-one told me to do it, no-one spurred me on, it was my own pursuit, and to find out that my own father hating the one thing of many that I enjoyed AND was good at broke my heart into a million pieces. That night was the toughest I'd ever had, mostly because I now knew that I was under the same roof as someone that hated my talent. The reason I didn't stop was that I wanted to be the greatest magician. Not good, not great, THE GREATEST!
But where was I once I had no roof above my head? Alone, cold and depressed. All my friends slowly pushed me away when I started actively pursuing my dream, bar one friend, whose house I headed to. Fortunately, there was no rain this night, but it was extremely cold. Blasted pegasi thought that would be a good idea. As I knocked on the door, I saw my friend and let out a small smile. As I asked if I could stay the night, my friend explained that she couldn't have me stay, as she's already having a friend around. I simply just gave a quick smile as she closed the door. That smile quickly turned to a very strong frown as a trotted away. After about an hour or so of trying to find somewhere nice to sleep for the night, I gave in a decided to sleep on a nearby bench. At this point, I hadn't had any food or drink and my hooves and cape were starting to get dirty. But I didn't want to make it worse by sleeping on the ground. Besides, I could potentially get trampled on by early morning ponies. The bench I had found was cold, hard and very uncomfortable, but it'll have to do for now. I curled up in my cape and sighed into sleep. That was until about an hour had passed and I had been woken up by a guard. "And just what are you doing sleeping here, missy?" I quickly jumped off of the bench and ran away. Impulse, I guess. So now, I was cold, lonely, depressed and tired, with no place to sleep. I simply just trotted around, hour after hour, before I finally caved in and collapsed on the ground. I didn't seem to care that my body and cape would get dirty, I needed to sleep, badly.
I woke up in a bed, rather surprisingly. My first thought was that my father found me and decided to whisk me back home and apologise for his yelling. That was until I got a better look around and found myself in a completely different bedroom than the one I had slept in just yesterday. As I looked around, I heard a creek coming from my right hoof side, and a door slowly opening. As you would expect, I started panicking, I didn't know if this could be my father or some stranger ready to kill me. Well, it was a stranger, but he didn't have any kind of weapon on him. The stallion in front of me was pretty tall and kind of handsome, with a pretty soothing voice. He sat close to my bed as I slowly peeked out of the covers more. The stallion greeted me, I replied, sounding very down and quiet. As we both engaged in conversation, I realised that I had entered a orphanage. They didn't know who I was and they had more than enough room for one pony, even if it could just be for one night. As the stallion left, I turned myself over and sighed deeply, tears trickling down my eyes like a waterfall. How could my father just forget about me? Why didn't my mother do anything? Why didn't my best friend let me in at my time of need? These were all questions I had thought about while crying my eyes out, yet couldn't find the answer for. I must have been crying for at least half an hour. The floor, bed and covers were soaked in my tears. The only thing that stopped me was when I saw, at the corner of my eye, my cape and stuff I took with me, all perfectly clean. My body was clean too, if a bit wet, but not from the tears. My tears stopped as I laid in bed. I then had only one thought pass my mind once I saw these two things;
I must have been in the orphanage for a good number of years. All that time planning how I would show the world what Trixie was all about, showing the world my marvellous powers and excellent magic. And yet, at the same time, I had the feeling of loneliness. It’s not like I hadn’t bothered to make friends, it’s just that none of the ponies seemed to care about magic as much as did. I had tried showing it off to the fellow young ponies at the orphanage, but they looked bored within 2 minutes. I gave up then and just went to my room, where I stayed for the most of the day, hiding myself from the world. It had been about 10 years at this point, and still, no-one cared about my magic. I struggled to see the point in pursuing my career, until I looked outside my window and saw a travelling magician. I couldn’t get what his name was, but his tricks were mind-blowing. His arsenal of magic was beyond that of what I’d seen before. I ran down the stairs and outside to watch the rest of the show. It was exhilarating to watch a magic show as an audience member, instead of the magician. At the end of the show, I had decided that I should pursue my magician career further. I was sure that the travelling magician had been through something similar, so I should not let the ponies judging me get in my way. I had spent years working on my tricks, making sure they were at the highest possible level of greatness. Yet, at the same time, I tried to not make myself a shut-in. I did everything from helping the other ponies with their homework to helping out around the orphanage, all while keeping my magic career under wraps. At this point, everything was going brilliantly, I was happy most of the time, extremely optimistic about my magic future. Every night, I’d curl up in my bed, smiling from ear to ear about my future… I would be going all around Equestria and beyond, leaving all the ponies watching in shear awe of my excellent magic. I would be winning all kinds of awards, being the most popular magician in the entire world. I would be entertaining to fillies, colts, mares and stallions aplenty, every dream was similar, but I wouldn’t have changed that, not at all. I had got a whole manner of gear ready for me to show the world who Trixie really was. But Trixie, that name sounded boring for someone set to make the world explode with glorious magic. I had decided to make a name my new target, after I finished making my gleaming cape and hat, matching colour and patterns, of course. I must have spent days trying to decide on a name, every time throwing a piece of paper into the trash in anger.
The Shocking and Marvellous Trixie? No. The Excellent and Jaw-dropping Trixie? No! The Fabulous and Awesome Trixie? NO!
I went through many sheets of paper and most of my pencil before I finally found the perfect name; The Great and Powerful Trixie! It was brilliant! It was striking, memorable and descriptive, exactly what I wanted from a name! I then spent the final few years I had left in the orphanage working on the rest of my arsenal. The orphanage doesn’t take care of mares and stallions, but I had a whole bunch of optimism on me at this point. I couldn’t wait to leave the orphanage and explore the world, going from the east to west, north to south, showing everypony that The Great and Powerful Trixie was the next, and best magician in the world! Obviously, there would be some memories I had to leave behind, but I did have a whole bunch of pictures took of me, including my first show there. Sure, it might not be a happy memory to keep on me, but it’s still a memory regardless. And then, the time came. I had finally become a mare and had to leave the orphanage, but also head out into the world and leave ponies all over shocked and entertained. I would show them all that the Trixie that was picked on for most of my life no longer existed, that The Great and Powerful Trixie would be the talk of the town in every single town! And yet, as I said my goodbyes, to those that lifted me back on my hooves after I was kicked to the dirt, I felt a sense of fear, no longer having some kind of safety net if things do go pear shaped. (But they wouldn’t! They would all look in the newspapers and see The Great and Powerful Trixie all over it!) I finally said my goodbyes, wiped away my tears, breathed in the Ponyville air and began my journey into the world of being a magician. I had set up shop at the heart of Ponyville, ready for my biggest and best show yet. I could barely sleep that night; all the excitement I had, everything I had researched, practised and mastered throughout the year was about to finally go out to the public. I would finally become what I wanted to be; the talk of the town, the ultimate magician, nay, the BEST magician in the world. My name everywhere I go, in the biggest and best places around the world. Tomorrow would be the day, the day I had been waiting all my life for.
You may have vanquished an Ursa Minor, but you will never have the amazing, show-stopping ability of the Great and Powerful Trixie!
Those were the last words I said as I ran away from the town. I had blown it, blown away something I had worked at trying to achieve for all of my life. It hit me when I was running away from Ponyville that everything I had was gone, my cape that I spent many days, nights and fabric ensuring I got it right, the carrage that I had spent almost every single bit I had and what little respect I had left in that town; all of it was destroyed. After running for about two miles, I stopped and looked up at the night sky. This was it, this was what I have now; nowhere to live, nothing to eat, nothing to drink and my one talent was crushed right in front of my very eyes. All I did for the rest of the night was lay on the grass and cry myself to sleep.
Everything was coming back at this point. My father kicking me out of my house at a young age, collapsing on the ground in the middle of town before waking up in an orphange, spending years building up my hobby and then messing it all up. I could've just tried again, if those stupid idiots that were following me around didn't bring in that massive mystical brute that destroyed my carrage, I could just go to another city and try again. Instead, I'm left in the middle of nowhere, back to how I was many years ago; alone, cold and depressed.
The next day, I was awoken by some pony I had never seen before. They told me that I 'couldn't stay here', and all I could do was be reminded of the guard that told me that I couldn't sleep on the bench. I simply just got on my four hooves and walked away quickly, crying even more. I looked back and saw the pony just walk back to Ponyville. They clearly didn't care about me, and right now, I didn't care about myself either. As I walked further and further away from Ponyville, there was one thing on my mind which was about my parents. Do they still know about me? Do they remember me at all? All these thoughts were coming into my mind, especially about my father. They all gave me the impulse to rush on to my old home and see if my parents remember who I am and welcome me back into their home. I ran as fast as I could, the only thing pushing me onwards was the thought that my parents would welcome me back, my father apologising for his over-reaction, and him imbracing what I liked doing. Maybe he might even help me get back on my hooves, helping me make a new carrage. My mother could help me make a new cape. It all sounded wonderful! It would be the best turn around of my life!
Things were strange once I arrived, however. The house I remember looked nothing like it was when I was a young filly. The dark brown wood from the past has been a light cream colour and the door was a dark red, instead of the bright yellow I knocked one day in my youth, hoping my parents would welcome me back, to no avail. I slowly walked up to the door and knocked on it. After a few seconds, I heard a quiet creak as the door opened, to which I saw a small, old mare. I thought this was strange, I mean, how could my mother look like this, when she looked so young in my youth? My question was quickly answered. Turns out that the original owners of the house had moved to a completely different country, having won the lottery. I thought it was obsurd, but the mare handed me a news article explaining it all. It all happened two years after I had been kicked out. I didn't want to believe it, but the article was from a trusted news source. You can guess how I felt at that point. All I could do at this point was just cry, I had absolutely nothing now. I was wondering around in a town where no-pony cares, with nothing on me but a few bits and feeling of just giving it all up. I headed to a nearby cafe, trying to find something that I could buy with my last few bits. Fortunately, I had enough for a sandwich, even though it was the cheapest one there. I had bought my lunch and started eating it, with the smallest amount of glee. That was, until someone bumped into me, asking if I was The Great and Powerful Trixie that was in town the day before. After said that I was, they all mocked me, calling me everything from a failure to pathetic. They then proceeded to destroy my lunch until all that was left was a mixture of bread and dirt, before they all left. I had it at this point, I had it with the torment, being treated like the stuff I was staring at for all my life, having to live it without the safety net of my parents who just left me the instant the got a whole bunch of money. I decided to end it and I wanted to end it today.
I went around Ponyville all day, trying to find the best place to end it all. There was a bridge just to the north west of Ponyville, connecting it with Phillydelphia. I didn't make any plans, no letter to say my goodbyes, because why would I need to do that? Nopony cared at this point, my death would just be something silent. When I arrived at the bridge, I just stayed there for what felt like hours, just watching the day go by, seeing all the ponies living their happy lives without fault. As for me, I was just waiting for the time when it would be right to just jump into the depths of the river below and leave this world for good. I had found out an hour had passed before I finally decided to go ahead and get on with it.
I was just about to jump before I heard somepony yelling and running at me. As they came closer, I remember who it was, it was the stallion at the orphanage that I spent most of my life at. As soon as I saw that, I jumped back onto the right side of the bridge and embraced him in a tight hug. He hugged back, crying his eyes out. I couldn't help but do the same. He saw me about to jump off the bridge and came to save me from doing such a thing. He told me that I was someone that he admired, mostly because he knew first hand everything I had to go through to get to that point. I may have blew it, but he told me not everypony was perfect first time, even if the first time took years of planning.
After that, he decided to give me a permament spot in the orphanage I stayed in as a filly. I would be there to help all the young filles and colts to become who they wanted to be, without slipping up like I did. But there was something else that the stallion wanted me to see when I arrived there. He had started to rebuild my carrage as well as clean and fix my cape and hat. Tears swelled up in my eyes when I saw this, but not from sadness, this time, it was from realising that the pony that cared about me the most in my life was the one that saved me from the outside world when I wasn't ready.