Chapters The Great and Powerful Puppet
"Now, before we begin, I have a queshtion for you," my mother said, swaying slightly in her drunkenness. She pointed a hoof to me, advancing by three rather large steps across the room until she was foreleg's distance away. I could feel her breath on my neck as she loomed over my buried head.
"Y-yes, mother?" I stammered, gazing up into her piercing golden eyes.
"Why do you do thish to yourshelf?" she slurred, having to rest a hoof of the wall to hold her up. Her gaze hardened and she gave me a wicked smile. She withdrew her hoof from the wall and stood before me, no longer staggering in her intoxication. Her words were now clear. "This! You know, Trixie, I wish I could love you as I love Acantha and Iris. I wish I could be a good mother, but you... you're always finding ways to spoil our happiness."
She ceased to speak as though the story ended there, but I knew what she was doing. She was lurking, prowling, waiting for me to say something, anything that could make her hate me more. Perhaps it would justify the beating I was about to receive. When she heard nothing, she stopped her circling and suddenly became intent on studying an old family photograph. One taken before I was born, when Iris and Acantha were nothing but toddlers.
"You see this?' she said quietly, pointing to the photo. "Do you notice anything about it?"
"I'm not there," I deadpanned.
"Yes, and we're so happy. All my children have always been such lovely, well-behaved little fillies. They knew just what to say and just how to act. But you... you are different," she spat.
"You're a wicked little child."
"I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree then," I retorted. For a moment, the room was silent, as silent as the mouths of the dead. My mother stood, facing the photo with a pleasant smile that had slowly begun to fade.
Stupid Trixie! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My mother turned to me, a calm smile still hovering over her features. I knew it was a mask. I could tell she was seething. The way her eye twitched, how her ear quivered with every advance she made on me or how her smile nearly seemed too big for her face; these were all ways I could tell she was currently pondering how many fun new ways she could make me suffer for my words.
But even if I hadn't said a thing, she would still do the same.
Swiftly and without words, my mother crept towards me with her sinister smile. I closed my eyes and anticipated the worst. Perhaps I would grow numb to the pain. I fought the urge to scream as she raised her hoof and slapped me clean across the face, sending me flying across the room. I hit the opposite wall with a loud thud, leaving a trail of blood that had begun dripping from my nose like a leaky faucet.
"Now, Trixie," my mother tsked in mock disapproval. "You're slouching! Good girls don't slouch!"
I winced as a jolt of pain filled me, but I had to stand up and face her. I had to stand up straight.
"Yes, M-mother," I sobbed.
My mother nodded. I closed my eyes as the sound of her hoofsteps galloped towards me at an alarming rate. I shrieked as she leapt upon me, pinning me to the ground with ease. I lay splayed out on my back in a pool of my own blood and tears, while my mother put one leg on either side of me and held up her hoof. I wriggled in her grasp, wincing and sobbing even harder as she landed a blow across my cheek.
"Now tell mommy you love her," she commanded, continuing to punch my face.
I heard a loud crack as her hoof collided with my muzzle. I felt a new surge of blood flow from my nose and drip down to the floor. It had begun to fill my mouth. I choked and gagged as it collected in my throat.
I whimpered, my eyes pleading for her to stop. She didn't relent. I tried to scream as she hit me once more, forcing me to swallow some of the blood.
"Tell mommy you love her!" she yelled, her hoof raised above my face, preparing to strike me again and again until I had been tamed. I choked, my whimpers increasing. I turned my head ever so slightly, spitting out as much of the blood as I could.
"I love you, mommy," I breathed, my eyes closing.
Please let this be the end.
To my relief, I felt the weight of my mother lift off of me, and the sound of her dainty hoofsteps as she trotted from the room. I knew the rules. I could never tell anypony. If I did, I would suffer. Nopony could know about our little secret.
I lay there, my fur soaked with slowly drying blood, which had now turned a sickly reddish-brown. I expelled another mouthful of blood, letting it pour freely from my mouth. I could already feel my face begin to swell and bruise. I cried quietly into my hooves for what seemed like an eternity, praying for the end.
Please, let this end. Let this be the end of me. I prayed for death. Please, let me die.
Mustering what remained of my strength, I raised my hoof up to the wall. I dipped it in the pool of blood and began to write. The streaks of fading crimson formed letters and, soon, words.
The Great and Powerful Trixie
With a contented smile, I shut my eyes and prayed once more for the end.
The Great and Powerful Puppet
The halls of our home were as lonely as I. I trotted down them, my hoof skimming over the rippled and crinkled wallpaper. Our manor had been the inheritance of my father. He had received it upon the passing of his grandfather, when the mansion was in its prime and had been renown throughout our little town as a splendor.
Though my father hated to admit it, the house had since deteriorated. Even though my mother did all she could to keep this house in shape, it was as though the home had died long ago and was now slowly decomposing as its ghost leaked from every cracked shingle and shattered window.
It didn't help that Father was our only source of income. Mother had once worked as a business pony alongside my father. That was how they met. When they married and soon had their first foal, she became a stay-at-home parent while Dad traveled across Equestria selling products and attending meetings.
I sorely wish Father was around more. I haven't had the nerve to tell him about Mother's... less than healthy habits. Nor have I bothered to inform him that she is the cause behind my black eye, for love is truly blind. He sees nothing but his perfect little wife. If only he knew that she was nothing but a remnant of the Beryl he married eighteen years ago.
I was startled by a loud chime emanating from just down the hall. It took me a moment to register it as the doorbell, which hadn't rung for at least a week. The sole thing Mother and I had in common is that we both detested solicitors with a burning passion. However, the determined little devils still managed to drive their carts all the way across town just to ring our doorbell and soon after, be yelled at.
I knew at once that the silhouette framed against our slightly tinted window surely belonged to Father. I galloped to the door, prying it open with gusto.
"Daddy!" I cried, flinging myself into his already outstretched forelegs.
"Trixie! How are you, my darling?" he asked, cracking a wrinkled smile as he hoisted me up onto his shoulders.
Tell him. Tell him, Trixie.
"Just fine. Rather boring without you around. You mustn't be away so often, Mother has been missing you." My father had carried me in, and at that, he promptly set me down. I noticed that he was avoiding my gaze, instead choosing to stare intently at the floor. "Father, is there something bothering you?"
He sighed dejectedly, nodding. "I'm afraid so. How should I put this? You won't... have to worry about me leaving on business trips for a while."
My eyes widened in realisation.
"You were fired?"
"Unfortunately, yes," he sighed, letting his saddlebag slump to the floor. I followed closely at his heels, weaving around him like a fox kit pursuing a rather large rabbit.
"However will we ever tell Mother?" I yelped, nearly leaping at the thought of her.
His reply was nothing but a half-hearted shrug. After spending a sizeable amount of time in silence, I thought it best to summon Mother and the darling hags I shuddered to call my siblings. Acantha and Iris, or 'the twins' as Father liked to call them when he hadn't the time to differentiate them, scuttled hastily down the stairs. Mother poked her head into the room, beaming as Father came into view.
"Pudding!" she cried, galloping towards Dad.
The two kissed briefly, though my mother's eyes lingered passionately. I knew that she would have given anything to have lengthened the embrace. I was surprised to see she hadn't been drinking, most likely because she was expecting Father.
She wouldn’t want her little secret out, now would she?
* * *
I had long since been in my bed, struggling to fall asleep. The room was muggy and warm, and despite my efforts, it was insistent on remaining that way. The room hadn't darkened considerably as the late sun still hung at the rim of the horizon, exchanging a long round of goodbyes before it disappeared for the night. In a desperate attempt to shield my eyes from the fading glare of the setting sun, I had slammed down my blinds, only to have them sway and crash back with every slight breeze.
My throat felt like the Saddlehara desert, as I hadn't had a drop of water throughout the day. We had called a repair-pony down to take a gander at our faucets. There had been problems of late and they had refused to choke out any water, instead having it spill onto the tiled kitchen floor. Mother had, obviously, demanded that I clean it. Neither Acantha nor Iris even batted an eyelash as I spent the entire day scrubbing the floors and dusting the furniture. They were much too busy being 'mommy's perfect little angels' as they lounged there, filing their hooves.
Deciding to finally pay heed to my screaming throat, I groggily made my way out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen. At least, I would have if I hadn't seen a light on in my parent's bedroom just down the hall. Curiosity got the better of me as I tiptoed down, past the multitudes of faded, old photographs and paintings of long-dead artists. As I neared, the muffled sounds of their hushed arguing grew in my ears until I was pressed up against the wall, peering in with one violet eye.
"What will we do?" my mother sobbed, placing a hoof dramatically to her forehead. "We have nothing! Nothing! We're bankrupt, darling. We'll have to sell the house and move to... P-Ponyville!"
My eyes widened, my ears flattening.
Ponyville?
I watched as father placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder, whispering soothingly into her ear. "It won't be too bad! Think about it. New sights. New places. New ponies to meet."
"But Ponyville! They're filthy! I'd much rather remain in Canterlot, thank you." I'd heard enough. I retreated quickly down the hall, racing down the stairs and grabbing a glass of water. As I made my way up the stairs and through the winding halls with nothing but the faint glow of my magic to guide me, I savoured the house. If I wasn't mistaken, this was the last night I would spend in it.
I pried my door open, and for once, I enjoyed the groan the hinges made. There sat my room in all its comforting familiarity; the bookcase lined with How-To magic guides and novels, my small bed and Mr. Bloo, a stuffed cyan rabbit, sitting on the pillow with a pleasant and perpetual smile.
A hoof pressed itself against my lips like a gag, muffling my cry of shock. I wriggled in my captor's grip, but it proved futile as I struggled against their strength. With a single, swift action, I was spun around to face the pony that had grabbed me.
A familiar face frowned at me from the shadows.
The Great and Powerful Puppet
The Thorn That Hid Amongst Petals
The room was pitch black and seemed to be filled with a darkness that one could not only see, but touch. The air was musty and smelled of decay. It was the one room in the entirety of our manor that had been left untouched for years. It sat, seemingly forgotten, beneath the old stairs that led up to the west wing.
As I let the door creak closed, groaning in protest upon its rusted hinges all the while, the last remaining sliver of light was extinguished like a flame doused by water. Mother would have had my head if she was aware I had been sneaking in here every day for the past several months. She always was one to despise all things vile. I never thought anypony truly enjoyed filth, but her definition was much less lenient than most. If a speck of dust ever dared to tarnish her beloved vases, she would make quick work of it. Father always insisted that one of the plethora of reasons he loved his wife was because of her cleanliness.
I shuddered at the thought that anypony could ever love such a creature as my mother, let alone my beloved dad.
I stood there in the utter darkness with my hooves raised above my head so as to fumble about for the light switch. For several moments, they groped aimlessly through the shadows until they had met their mark: a small chord adorned with metal beads dangling from the ceiling. I gave it a hearty yank. With a rather noisy clink, the room was bathed in a dim light, just enough for me to see my way around.
A metal bar that acted as a clothes rack was lined with old, garish clothes that belonged in an entirely different era. Several had visible holes where moths may have gnawed, leaving behind the wretched aroma of mothballs. On the opposite side of the closet stood an old wooden shelf. Upon it was row upon row of dusty, old encyclopaedias. Their backs torn and pages bent with time. Several had yellowed with age and now resembled the shade of sour, puckered, old lemons.
Looking every which way as to ensure I wasn't being spied upon, I assured myself that my prize was safe. From the saddlebag I had strapped over my back, I drew a long dangling silver chain, at the end, a pendant. The pendant was of a heart fashioned completely out of diamond. It shone like the stars, as though they had been trapped in this stone by some ancient magic.
It was Mother's. But certainly she wouldn't miss it for she had so much more jewellery, much of it far more beautiful than this little treasure I had swiped while she was at a party. I hugged the necklace to my chest. Carefully, I unfastened it and placed it around my neck, clasping it together once more. How I wished I had a looking glass to study myself in.
I was jolted out of my reverie by a loud rapping on the closet door. My heart was drumming like a hammer against my ribcage. I bolted for the cord, pulled it and let the room fall into darkness. I pressed myself against the wall, breathing through my nose as best I could. Hopefully whomever it was would chalk it up to an old house making the ruckus and move along.
No such luck.
"I know you're in there, Trixie!" my eldest sister yelled, continuing to pound on the door. Accepting my fate, I gingerly opened the door and stepped out to face my sister. Her eyes searched mine before they fell to the pendant, where they lingered for some time.
"Mother's pendant! You wicked little foal," she spat.
"Please don't tell Mother!" I yelped, hiding as best I could behind my pale blue mane.
"Or what, rat?" she snapped as her lips curled into a malicious grin.
"Or... nothing..." I sighed in defeat.
My eyes cast to the ground as I waved my verbal white flag in surrender. My sister harrumphed, tossing aside a lock of curled navy mane and shot me smirk of triumph. She turned on her hoof and trotted briskly away, not even bothering to glance back at my shuddering form.
"That's that, then. I shall tell mother, you beast," she said over her shoulder. I chased after her, my hooves creating a hollow sound against the loose floorboards as I pursued my sister. In desperation, I bit her tail and dragged her back.
"Please, Acantha!" I pleaded after letting go of her tail. "Please! No, no, no! Don't tell her! Don't tell Mom!" My throat ached as I sobbed, tears collecting upon my eyelashes and streaming down my face. "Y-you know what she'll do to me!"
My sister threw up her muzzle, averting her eyes from my tearful face.
"She'll beat you," she deadpanned, no hint of sympathy in her voice.
"Y-yes! So please... please! I'll do anything. Anything!" I whimpered. Acantha frowned, biting her lip. My heart leapt for a moment as I swore I saw a flash of sadness creep over her, but my gut plummeted as it turned from sorrow to fury.
"You! You think I don't know what it's like living with Mother? Ever since you were born, we've all suffered! MOTHER NEVER LOVED YOU! WE HATE YOU! WE HATE YOU! You think I haven't been beaten during one of her temper tantrums? She wasn't a drunk until you came along!"
My mind swirled with emotions. I bit my lip so hard, it drew blood. It tasted salty upon my tongue. My tears pooled on the floor, growing with every passing moment. Agony gripped my heart like the bony hand of death.
Wailing, I curled up on the floor amongst my own tears and sobbed... sobbed and waited for mother to come storming in, seize me by the tail and drag me off to my room. I could already hear her hooves thundering against the old floor, nearing like a cougar about to pounce on its prey.
"You little witch," my mother slurred.
I felt a tingling sensation as I was enveloped in a faint blue aura which belonged to my mother. I continued to cry, hugging the necklace to my chest as I was dragged down the hallways towards another painful night.
