Hypnotic Trance

Pony

“Marcy?”

I startled at the sound of my mom’s voice, distracted by the energy flowing around me. Oh no... no no no no... I looked down at the heart-emblazoned galaxy on my wrist. If she sees me with this, she’ll think I got a tattoo! She’ll flip for sure! Of course, I knew it wasn’t inked, but part of my skin. But she didn’t know that.

My family was extremely strict about a lot of things. Curfew, boyfriends, piercings... Because I lived under their roof, I had to follow their rules, and conform to their standards. I couldn’t even wear a skirt that came above my knees. If they discovered something that even remotely resembles a tattoo, they would have my head.

“Marcella Jenny Knight, you’d better be dressed when I get up there!”

I looked around, trying to find something I could use to conceal my cutie mark. Gloves? no, that was way too obvious. Maybe something with long sleeves. Running over to my dresser, I rummaged through the drawer for something with long enough sleeves.

My mom walked into the room just as I pulled a teal jacket over my shoulders. The sleeves extended past my wrist, perfectly concealing the cutie mark. “Oh, good. You’re up,” Mom smiled at me. I smiled back. “Breakfast is ready. Hurry up before it gets cold.”

“I’ll be right down.”

She gave a nod and left. As soon as the door closed, I rolled up my sleeves to look at the mark again. Its meaning was entirely lost on me. I knew, somehow, that this cutie mark was mine and mine alone. But what did it represent? What special talent could I possibly have?

A low growl rumbled from my stomach. Breakfast first, soul-searching later, I decided. Hiding the cutie mark from sight again, I made my way downstairs toward the smell of pancakes.

“Do you always have to wear tee-shirts with ponies on them?” Rebecca asked incredulously, staring at my butter-yellow Fluttershy tee beneath my teal jacket. “Aren’t you, like, six years too old for that stuff?”

I sighed. Rebecca may have been one of my best friends, but she was also one of the ‘in crowd.’ Typical, gossiping, conforming Rebecca. “As soon as MLP stops being the greatest show ever, I’ll stop obsessing over it,” I replied snidely. “Besides, who are you to tell me what to like and what not to like? It’s my life.”

“I’m not telling you what to like, Marcy,” she laughed. “I’m just telling you that what you like is weird.”

With a frown, I bit my lip. Becca wasn’t usually this irritating about my pony obsession, and I, for some odd reason, was more put-off by it than usual. Instead of starting an argument with her, I turned my focus on the ever-present energy. I felt it flow around myself and Rebecca, stirring with every movement. It had a sort of calming effect, like thinking about it took the edge off my anger.

With my mind more pensive, I began to think more about that harmonious sound I heard, and the strange changes that came with it; my cutie mark and the ability to sense the invisible energy flow. It was odd, and I probably should have been more worried about it, but my mind didn’t really accept any danger behind these events. Like it refused to see any severe downside to it. The more I tried to ponder it, the more my mind blocked me from doing so.

Suddenly, I didn’t care. I stopped thinking about it on a whim, and didn’t question it. I didn’t even question why I stopped. So I shrugged at myself and continued alongside Rebecca to the school.

Gryphon

“Seth?” Yeah. That’s my name. And you BETTER not have a problem with it.

I didn’t startle at the sound so much so that I felt a little shiver of trepidation slither down my spine. Keenly, and realizing that whatever had happened to me would not be taken as easily by my father as it did by me, I slid over to my bed and slid my now almost completely useless glasses right back where they were before. I could just look over the frames. I had experience from years of not cleaning them when I should’ve.

My mother was out of town for the time being... another business meeting over in California. My mom worked in a neurotoxin factory. That is, she worked in a pesticide plant, and she was taking part in a series of suggestion boards on how to improve safety for the workers who seemed to delight in being the exact opposite of safe as they worked around vats full of liquid death.

Now... If I was lucky, my father wouldn’t come into my room and I wouldn’t have to explain the whole... eye issue.

I heard him shuffle up the stairs- I lived on the second floor practically- and I managed to muffle a sigh of relief when he didn’t decide to launch on a tirade about how I needed to have the house cleaned by the time my mother returned in a week or a tirade on how I needed to mow the lawn or how “Dammit Seth. You still haven’t done the dish washer.”

Frick. I always forget something with him. “Yeah, dad. I’ll get on it shortly.”

“You always say that.”

“And I always get it done eventually.”

He let out an aggravated noise and stomped down the stairs. I let out a sigh of relief following that and... didn’t do much more for a long time.

Well, I finished up the most of my calculus and stared at my eyes, my new beautiful, perfect eyes...

Well. Needed to hide this. Others wouldn’t understand the pure perfection.

Grudgingly, I found a pair of sunglasses and put them on.

And then the smell of sausage filled the air. Whaddya know? My dad was actually making breakfast for once.

My dad was a rather young looking man. At the ripe age of 48, he looked like he was 28, if he shaved off the pepper salt beard and stashe combo that he was growing as of late. It was the only thing that betrayed his advanced age...

Maybe I was being a little harsh. He was trying his best, and he was trying to make up for mom never being around, and it wasn’t his fault I was less than sociable as of late.

I was less than sociable during the school. I spent the most of it not talking to many people, or not even paying attention to most people. I guess... I guess you can call me a loner by nature. I just never really connected with most people, never saw the point to it.

Which made it all the easier, apparently, for nobody to ever look me in the eyes. I mean, wow. I managed to get through essentially half my classes before I really realized that nobody was noticing my eyes being ever so slightly (Or not so ever so slightly) different. Classes went smoothly, that is, until Lunch. The most of class, I sat listlessly in my corner, doing my own work and keeping my head down.

Wasn’t that hard... I only had a few friends and I didn’t have a period with them until Lunch.

Pony || Griffon

“Hey, Seth. Nice shades,” Marcella commented to her friend, sitting next to him at the lunch table. She felt surprisingly chipper, a result of having a smooth ride through her morning classes and the feeling of the energy around her. She felt uncharacteristically alive and grateful for it.

“Yeah yeah. Eyes are a little sensitive today. Nice long sleeves before winter. You planning on going to a mountain anytime soon?” If anything, he seemed angrier than usual. His arms were itching and it was all he could to not make too much of a scene by scratching them.

Marcella picked up on his particularly sour tone. “Jeeze, what is it with people and my fashion choices today?” she asked hypothetically, continuing the ruse around the mark on her arm.

“Meh. People haven’t said a thing about my glasses before you.” He pointed out. He looked directly at her for a long moment. “Anything cool happen last night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, grumpy-face,” she joked childishly.

He shrugged. “All that happened was I got a little hairspray in my eyes. So. Anything that makes you so vibrant and cheery today? Normally you’re... well. Normally you would never EVER call me grumpy face.”

Marcy giggled, pushing a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes. “This is a weird... sorta question, but have you ever been exposed to something new and wondered how you lived without ever noticing it? Like a new kind of... feeling... I don’t know how to describe it.”

He closed his eyes. Not that it was obvious, considering his glasses and all, but he did close them. “Hm... This have to do with your sleeves?”

“Huh?” she startled a little. She instinctively grasped the site of her cutie mark. “N-no, of course not! I just felt like wearing sleeves today!”

“Eh. At any rate. You still a fan of those... pony things?” Seth wasn’t so much a brony so much as he knew what it was through her..

“As if the tee wasn’t hint enough?” she giggled.

“Yeah, well. I’ve worn things when I don’t have anything else to wear.” He flicked at his sun glasses a little nervously.

Marcella nodded at him with understanding, and started on her lunch of grilled cheese and salad, staying relatively quiet throughout the rest of lunch hour. Seth, on other hand, was looking down at his food with evident distaste. When he did try to eat some of the food before him, he found it even more tasting like nuclear waste than normal.

“...Do you want my food?”

“Not that hungry, sorry,” Marcella honestly replied.