The clocks were silent, and the day was almost over. Not quite, however. Not yet.
There was a faint noise of the hooves on the ground, the sky was dark and the pegasi had scheduled rain for the evening. Everypony was trotting back home from their jobs, schools, and their daily adventures. Not everyone though. Not yet.
Somewhere in the crowd, a light purple cloaked figure hastily moved through the bystanders, mumbling "excuse me" or "sorry" however faintly spoken, under breath in hushed tones. The cloaked figure made their way to the front of the crowd, trotting quickly toward the outskirts of town. They fell a couple of times, a couple more after that.
In the horizon, an old painted circus tent, with those classic red and white stripes and that musty smell, pleasantly nostalgic like an old memory. The pony in front of the entrance was the Ring Master. He waved at the cloaked figure as they approach. Everypony is in the tent before the rain starts to pour. Well, not everypony, only the circus staff of course, it's too late for the circus to be open and the weather is far too harsh for the fillies.
The figure dropped her cloak, quickly and abruptly. She left her coat there, though she'd been told many times, 48 times at that, not to do so.
"Cotton, your coat! How many times do I have to remind you?"
...49...
"Ah, I'm so sorry Fire, I keep trying remember, but I have so many other things on my mind"
The tent tousled and danced under the rain, the sounds of the downpour distracting both of them. They silently agreed, the careless mare would probably forget her coat a 50th time and 50 more after that. There was no need to continue their conversation, they went their separate ways.
They went about their routines. Cotton placed her rain coat in the audience seating. Those old boards still did their job after all their years of service. Surprisingly in good shape too, except for that one spot, where a mother and her foals had been allowed to get out of hand and had damaged the seats. The crew had learned that it was best not to make a fuss about the damaged seating. The Ring Master was better off not remembering the damage and getting all worked up over it again.
It was an ordinary training schedule that day. Everypony practiced their routines while the rain beat the tent overhead becoming the music they performed to. Giggles and quiet conversations echoed the tall, vaulted roof of the tent, intermediately interrupted by the faint sound of Cotton Candy falling from the tight rope. She fell a couple times, and a couple more after that.
Cotton's training was not easy for her. With every fall, every fail, her soft yellow coat collected burns and bruises like watercolors on an empty canvas. Shades of blue, purple, and pink peeked through her makeup, like colorful little nebulae against an evening sky; of course that’s how she liked to think about it at least. She wiped the tears from her eyes, focused on one more attempt. She'd try one more time. She'd almost had it... not quite though... not yet.
Sometimes the others wondered if she was putting up a strong front, an act. Perhaps she was... maybe just for her. Maybe she'd gotten used to it by now. Maybe she was so focused on her trick, that she'd forgotten the pain, neglected her feelings.
The storm subdued a little. That old tent billowed gracefully far above the heads of the performers, the cool night wind bringing favorable coolness. The performers changed out of their costumes and washed off their make-up. The Ring Master stood by the entrance thanking everypony for their evening; their voices fading into the rain as they discussed evening plans. The Ring Master looked over his troupe and noticed a little earth pony missing. He turned around slowly and spotted her high on her rope near the tip top of the grand tent. The soft sound of the safety mesh catching the body of the delicate yellow mare was the only thing to be heard.
“You did notice everypony else left?” called the Ring Master
“I wanna stay here a little longer, if that’s okay”
“Alright, I won't stop you, but don’t overwork yourself CC”
“I’ll try”, there was a silence as the rain mellowed for a moment “Hey, Ring Master, do you think maybe…Would it be okay to turn on the show lights? Just for a little while…just for today?”
Without saying a word, he turned around to the light controls and illuminated the high top. He looked up to say goodnight, but she was already climbing up the stairs, her eyes fixed on the rope. He smiled and walked away in silence back to his personal tent. He'd write in his journals about the weird ponies he had seen in town that day.
Cotton looked around at the tent, the vast ceiling kept standing by the enormous standing poles. Her eyes followed the stage lighting into the old stairs and down to the safety net below; the glow on the props in the ring below catching her eye. She took a deep breath, and began her routine. With rote motion, she began. On the highest pole, in the middle of that lonely tent on the outskirts of town, Cotton stood at the base of the tightrope; her eyes filled with tears, clouding her vision. She refused to let them fall.
Putting her tired hooves on the rope, she'd drew a controlled breath, the cold air filling her lungs. She could feel every heartbeat, every tremble, every shiver. She knew every move, every pose, it was second nature to her. Another breath and time stops. She moves onto the rope without fear. There's courage in her heart but sadness in her eyes. Her body let out shiver, the fainest breeze could destroy her now. She takes the first step out onto the rope and stops. She couldn’t see, her tears filled her eyes, the circus below transformed into swirls of light and color, every hue imaginable skipped and danced about. It was as though the entire show played itself out below her. Cotton let out a sigh and relaxed, slowly sliding down onto the rope finding a balance.
Cotton rested on the rope, her body unwilling to cooperate with her. She noticed the sound of the rain for the first time that evening, the heave and billow of the tent that made the show lights bounce in an almost magical manner. She closed her eyes for a second and felt a stream of tears go down her face, wondering what she looked like with those colorful lights shining on her colorful bruised body.
The day was over, and the circus tent was almost empty. Not quite however...
…not yet
Author's Note
