Will the Circle Be Unbroken?
Will the Circle Be Unbroken?
Paint my face up. See the smile in the mirror. Don't feel one of m' own.
Step out of my caravan. Knock my head on the door frame. Expect to hear laughter. Nothing but the thunder of hooves and the roar of the crowd. Everypony's watching the rodeo. Which means there's nopony around to laugh. If a clown falls down and there's nopony there to see, is it funny? Well, now you know.
Find the other rodeo clowns waiting at the gate, chatting. They hush up once they spy me. Don't blame 'em; wouldn't want to talk much to me 'f I were them, either. Wouldn't want some leadfoot bumbler coming in and messing up their routines. Wouldn't want an accident waiting to happen upstaging them. Wouldn't want ol' Troubleshoes getting a bigger share of the laughs and a share o' the bits at the end of the day.
They can keep the laughs. Taking a bow in front of the crowd feels like a big cheat; didn't earn nothing, and I can feel every glare from the other clowns like knives. They can keep the bits, too, if'n I'm gonna be just as much an outsider working in the rodeo as I was shadowing it. Can make m' own way in the world. Done it for years.
The big horn blares. Event's over.
One of the other clowns pushes past me. Pushes hard. He's half my size, but I step back. Know my place.
We're up now.
Gotta smile big for the crowd.
-/-
Hear a knock on the door of my caravan. No idea who it could be.
Might be the master of the rodeo. It ain't payday, but she could have something else to say. Could be letting me go on account of all the accidents and the injuries and the tensions. Could be giving me a raise, now that we're being followed by ponies who only come for the clowning act. Couldn't say which would be worse.
Could be one of the other clowns. They don't have much to say to me outside the ring, but maybe tonight they've been saying a bunch about me and they feel they need to say some of it to my face. Wouldn't surprise me.
Could be a fan what hung around until the rodeo had almost packed up for the night, hemming an' hawing about if they should ask Troubleshoes for his autograph. Shouldn't've bothered, if that's the case. Ain't nopony needs to be looking up to me. Liable to wind up with a broken leg if they do.
The knock comes again. Get up to open the door. Wasn't raised to be rude.
Find a pony in a traveling cloak. Mare. She keeps her hood up like she don't want ponies to see much of her. Face looks fine, from what I can see. Pretty, even.
She pulls her hood back. See her horn. Then her eyes. Eyes like black diamonds, hard and sharp and greedy with every bit of light that shines into 'em. Eyes like an outhouse rat.
See why she might not want ponies to see that much of her. Might be some of 'em've seen a bit too much already.
Ask, "Can I help you?"
She smiles. Heard there were big lizards in the swamplands that smiled like that. "No," she says, "but I can help you."
"Can you now?" I ask. "Don't see all that much I need helping with, so if you'd kindly be on your way..."
She jams a hoof in the doorway. Can't close it now. "You think I'm trying to sell you something. You think I want to trick you out of your bits and worldly possessions."
Had occurred to me.
"I do want to take something from you," she says, "something you want to be rid of. A burden you've been unable to shake. A curse you've been unable to lift."
"And what's that?"
"Your cutie mark," she says.
Consider. Look into her eyes. Don't see her blink once.
Let her in.
-/-
The horseshoe floats upside-down in the jar she trapped it in. Thing bobs up an' down like it's out at sea, rocked by waves.
Could go toss this jar in the ocean. Could bury it in the ground and forget about it. Could heave it into a volcano. But then what's in the jar would just come back to bother me. Best keep it close. Keep it sealed up.
Didn't hurt to have it taken off. Just a bit o' magic, and poof, it was done. Ain't never seen much unicorn magic in my life, not so direct as that. Never expected it to be so straightforward.
Don't feel any different. Haven't done nothing but stare at that jar since she left. Haven't tempted fate. Guess we'll see if it did the job or not.
Didn't cost anything, just like she said. She said to tell others what had happened, what my mark had made me and what I had made o' myself once it was gone. She said there'd be ponies who would listen, and when they did, to tell them her name, and she would find them. Feel it's a price I can pay.
Don't see myself staying with the rodeo. Not suited to be a clown no more. Wasn't ever suited to be one in the first place. Could carry heavy loads, but there's plenty of strong backs here already. Too much bad blood, too. Might just wander on. Got pretty used to wandering. Figure it'll be the fastest way to see if anything's changed.
Pack up my caravan. Hitch up. Haul off into the night. Skies are clear. Moon is out.
I'm miles from town before I realize I didn't smack my head on the way out.
-/-
I load up the last of the rocks onto the cart and come around to strap it to my back. I can feel every one of these loads of rocks I've pulled today sitting somewhere deep in my spine. It's a good feeling, though. Feels like I'm getting something done, even though I'm still not sure what exactly happens with the rocks here. Feels good to be doing honest work under the open sky. Feels like I'm going to sleep heavy tonight.
I pass by the two sisters who work this farm, and I give them a nod. One waves. Other blushes. First one rolls her eyes.
It's been months since I moved on from the rodeo, and I don't miss it as much as I thought I would. Bounced from odd job to odd job until I ended up here on the rock farm. Told ponies my story; sent some of them Starlight's way. I wonder sometimes if they had stories like mine.
Feels like I fit in here. It's grey and brown and quiet, but there's life here. Feels like I understand the pace of things. I see there's pictures of two more sisters that belong to this family; there's one that sticks out like the first flower of spring. She moved out soon as she could, her father told me. Didn't surprise me at all. Maybe she left a space here for me. Not that I'm replacing her or nothing. She's off somewhere doing what she was meant to do all along. Could be that this here farm is where I was meant to be the whole time, too.
I could see working here all through the winter; rocks don't take heed to the seasons like crops, so there's plenty of lifting and hauling and shoveling to be done while the snow piles up. I could see myself talking a little more with yonder blushing sister, too, who's gentle and soft underneath the hard shell every pony in this family seems like they have. I could see a lot of things here.
I take a deep breath of air. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy.
For the first time in a long time, I feel free.
Author's Note
"Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" is an early-20th century hymn that's been covered and adapted a thousand times over.
