Trixie's Ennui
A roar erupted throughout the small town of Ponyville as the Ursa Minor, or as Trixie perceived it, Major, lunged forward towards a group of frightened ponies. Yet, one unicorn was standing tall. Her name, is Twilight Sparkle. As the Ursa Minor neared, Trixie shrieked, and bolted off, holing herself up in her small showcart, as Twilight Sparkle bravely soothed the bear with her potent magic, sending it back home to its mother. Then, a couple hours later..
A creak interrupted the seemingly eternal silence in the cold, dark wagon. It came from the mahogany door at the end of the wagon, which was now fully open. A couple hoofsteps echoed inside, and the door suddenly slammed shut. A blue unicorn mare, with a sleek white mane quickly made her way to the couch, where she collapsed, tears slowly dripping down the side of the upholstery. She ended up crying herself to sleep, sickened by her own failure. This mare's name is Trixie.
"Oh...Trixie's he-...my, head...." The mare groans, slowly rolling off of the couch. "Something's...different.." She thinks, then realizing the absence of the constant badgering of those two colts. Her greatest fans. Or, at least, they used to be. How grand it was to be admired, doted upon by thousands, ponies who wish they could be you, or have your skills or attributions. The pure, unadulterated thrill of the legions of cheering admirers, praising you and showering you from head to hoof with attention. The warm thrill of confusion, why am I exalted by so many? The feeling of being loved by a nation. And, she had to go and lie. Lie about her magic ability, claiming abnormal skills when she was only slightly above average. Trixie sighs, getting up and peeking outside. All the ponies, hustling and bustling in their own little self-involved worlds, socializing, being normal. She couldn't go back to that. She wouldn't. Trixie hurriedly trots outside, garnering a few stares. Spiteful stares. She tries her best to ignore them, removing the wedge blocking the tire from moving. Then, nearly sprinting back inside. avoiding the numerous hecklers, she gets up to the front of the wagon, moving the parking brake back with her magic, which she felt so very ashamed to use.The wagon begins to lurch forward, and ponies begin to notice, detesting her escape, even beginning to chase after it. "..come on, come on.." Trixie mutters in vain, hoping her words would somehow move the behemoth.
Eventually, gravity takes over, and the showcart finally starts moving, speeding quite quickly down a hill. The haters and beraters finally slowing down, Trixie breathes a sigh of relief, as she is safe from their hate. She gets up, stretching her back, sore from sleeping on the old, rigid couch. The forlorn mare makes her way across the wooden vehicle, picking up things that would remind her of her previous, glorious, oh so fantastic fame. The fine, crystal lamp given to her by the Las Pegasus Seven Card Hoof Casino staff for being such a great performer for the dinner-with-a-show deals. The poorly drawn 'Official Great and Powerful Trixie' poster, made by those two colts, what were their names? Slips and Fails? Oh, it doesn't matter anyway. Not anymore. Next, the homespun, homemade, and one hundred percent homely Appleoosan quilt. With numerous visages of apples glazing in the warm desert sun, small, intricate signature made with a simple needle and thread, major tools of the trade in such a low-tech region. And, of course, the heartwarming little stitch version of a group photo, with about a quarter of the town and Trixie. She sighs, tossing it onto the pile, trying her best to suppress her feelings for the simple piece of what she would have called 'peasant cloth'. Back when she was a 'stone-cold witch' as she had heard from the mob that was chasing her earlier. But, it didn't matter. She would be the king of the hill, the top of the pack, the cream of the crop. She would get there, or fall down to the lowest rung of the intense social ladder known as the Equestrian elite.
A flash of light, a spark from her head, and Trixie's horn alights, carrying the various objects of her broken success. The aura around the items grows, enveloping them all in their simple, yet extraordinarily intriguing and sophisticated way. They then fall on the ground, and with a grunt and a twitch from the washed up star, they spark into a fire, her previous possessions crumbling as the fire consumes them under the shadow of pale moonlight. Trixie bows slightly to her former, now ravaged glory as a tear traces down her face. She then shakes herself out of her stupor, forcing herself into her wagon, which lurches forward into the unknown of the night, the wheels groaning in what sounds like agony as they traverse the soft ground. Trixie sits at the front, eyes open, wide staring disks with dark, yet light violet centers, dazzling violet eyes. And, yes, it is true that Trixie has been the apple of many a stallion eye, but. .that isn't what matters. what matters is getting back to the top. Because, the thrill of being famous and auspicious is very addicting, Almost, sometimes even more addicting than illegal substances. And Trixie is a junkie. When a junkie cannot get their fix, they will do anything to ensure that their infinite hunger is sated, at least, for the time being. So, watch out, Equestria. Here comes Trixie, a mare on a mission. A mission for pure glory among the elite, to be exalted and loved as she once was. To rise to grea-! *THUNK* The cart freezes, leaving Trixie stranded in a dirty old mud-filled ditch. Great. Just great. She gets up, heading outside, and looking at the wheel, seeing it is fully submerged in mud. She sighs heavily,! "Oh, come on..." She mutters, pushing in vain against the heavy lump of wood. But, to no avail. She sighs, and her horn sparks up, pulling against the wheel with its magical aura. Trixie grunts, pulling with all her magical and cognitive might, and the wheel groans slightly, inching forward. Trixie grins, spurred by this, and pulls on, eventually shoving the wheel out of the mud patch. She squees for a split second, then silencing herself, looking around and blushing slightly. She gets up, ever grinning, and trots back into the cart, driving off into the early morning sunrise.
