“Yeah, I may be a stallion of few words, but I am not dumb,” I told Spike, who lay face down on the massage table, his head in doughnut cushion. I used an oven mitt to pick up a hot stone from the steaming warming plate and pressed it against his scaly green shoulder. The rust smell of hot dragon mixed with the sizzling smell of massage oil. I could feel the heat on my lips. I spit the mitt on the table. “Hot enough?”
“Lava wouldn't be too hot, but it does feel good. A little higher, please. Yes.” The two-dozen ambiance candles, all vanilla-scented except the two bright yellow alfalfa-scented ones, threw flickering shadows, especially along the line of his purple crest. Sandalwood incense curled through air in gray swirls to complete the aromatherapy combo Lotus Blossom prescribed.
“I’ve got my college degree in Kinesiology,” I added, quickly getting a rubber-shod hoof on the stone so I could press it in and move it rhythmically. Grit I the edge of my special shoes gave me a good grip, especially important because Spike didn’t have the flat areas ponies had. He was harder to massage. On the good side, no matter how deeply I worked his hide I doubt I could have hurt him. “The thing with breaking the walls, again, is, uh–you got to show enthusiasm to exceed expectations.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. More to the right.”
“The thing is, little buddy, is that if you act like I’ve beaten you to a pulp and can barely un-pretzel yourself, the princess will believe you. She'll think you're exaggerating, not faking it and will walk slower.”
“I feel like mush. Other massages are like a herd of butterflies… sorry.”
“They flew at my eyes! I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”
“Pretty much.”
“Anyway, act like a marionette. I’ve done none of the princess’ close friends, so she won’t know how great deep tissue work is.”
“You’re right, BB, it’s fantastic… I really do have to keep Twilight away until the girls finish their renovations. I wish I could convince Twilight to do something else here in the spa, but her stipend as crown representative isn’t all that large.”
The twist-timer dinged and stopped ticking. I let the last stone drop to floor, quickly used a towel to scruff up and buff the excess oil. When I provided a leg so Spike could roll over and sit up, his green eyes met mine. “Next to a seven hour, uh, bath at the hot springs, this is a very close second. Hey, thanks.”
He jumped down and wobbled a bit, but steadied himself by grabbing below my knee. His scales and crest shined like polished metal. “Like a marionette,” I reminded him.
He winked. “I won’t play it up until we’re outside the spa.”
“Thanks,” I kicked a rock out of his way and pulled a chord that opened up the skylight, drowning out the candles and illuminating the pastel green walls—walls that had two stallion-sized holes. The good sport exited out of the real door.
Renovating the castle? It was barely two months old, I thought as I fetched all the stones from the floor and put them on the tray, turned the warmer down, and blew out the candles. Paraffin scent filled the room. My next appointment wasn’t until 4 PM.
The main door jangled as the princess left. Immediately, Aloe Blossom stuck her head through the right hole and looked around at the debris I'd hastily swept into a corner. In her thick Romaneian accent, she said, “Look at dhis mess. It must not happen again or you cannot work here any more.”
I looked down, “Yes, ma’am!"
“Patch it before your 4 o’clock… What?” She stepped over the exposed lower 2x6 sill of the hole, gazing below the table. “A key?”
“Mr. Spike must have dropped it.”
“Well, return it, dhen fix dhis mess. Deplazeze rapid!
I saluted and picked up the ornate, crystal-form key. I quickly changed out of my oil-stained uniform and trotted outside. I didn’t see either Spike or Princess Twilight and rushed toward Sugarcube Corner, one of the places Spike mentioned; but when I got there, all I encountered was a steam cloud redolent of caramel and butter cream, and a happy but unhelpful Mrs. Cake. After minutes galloping in all directions, I took flight, but I got no good clue as to where they had disappeared. Some people think of Ponyville as a small town, but with thousands of ponies spread over almost a league along Ponyville Way road, finding folks can be difficult.
With an exhausted whinny, I glided as best I could for pegasus of my stature, heading for the castle. I could leave the key with the princess’ friends. I had to fix the wall or lose another job. And I needed this job. Without a good word from the Blossom sisters, Cheerilee probably wouldn’t be adding the physical ed class I had been campaigning for. Without that, my few personal training classes and occasional weather duty wouldn’t bring in enough cash. If I couldn’t get into the Wonderbolts, I at least wanted to succeed at something in my home town.
A silver medal in the Equestria Games only got you through the door.
I landed outside the castle. The massive tall edifice did not blend into either the plaster and lath architecture of Ponyville, or the rustic farm and wooded landscape surrounding it. My minor in architecture, and occasional construction jobs, allowed me to appreciate castle’s inability to blend in the way a pony-designed one might. I could forgive its incongruous nature considering that it had literally grown out of the ground with a thunderous rumble that had spooked many a pony into thinking Tirek had returned. I’d seen the spire grow beyond the last houses toward Mane lake. That it appeared like a tree was no illusion because it had grown from a seed of the Tree of Harmony, growing in what would take the largest of trees twenty years in a matter of minutes. I still remember shivering at snapping and glass-cracking sounds as the crystal sapling expanded into flying buttresses, balconies, and halls. Though tree-like, the stone framework was sheathed inside and out in crystal, and could blind the unwary flier at certain times of the day. The deep purples and blues of the walls and the diamond-pattern green glass windows felt more oppressive than comforting, to me at least. I’d visited Canterlot castle, thanks to my ARC 258 Artistic Patronage of Celestia class, and had recently snagged a Crystal Empire castle tour at the Games. Both felt friendlier than Twilight's castle, something which, as I strode up the steps, I thought particularly ironic considering its inhabitant’s new profession.
Unlike at the other castles, I encountered no guards. A golden door stood unlocked, a good thing considering I held its crystal key in my mouth. A nudge of my hoof pushed the exquisitely balanced thing open, and I strode in.
No staff greeted me, either. The cavernous, echoing vestibule seemed particularly empty despite being well lit by stained-glass windows and a multi-light clearstory. No tapestries or portraits graced the walls, truly unlike Canterlot Castle with it’s thousand years of history. Some Canterlot Castle walls were so packed with paintings and drawings that ponies had dispensed with frames all together and butted one image next to the other from edge to edge, floor to ceiling. Here, a stark color scheme of bare walls ruled.
If anything, with nopony to greet me, the place felt not lived-in. I flew up the staircase to the main level, my wings faintly buzzing like a bumble bee, feeling reluctant to break the strange silence.
The second floor, though no more furnished, was anything but silent. I could hear Twilight’s friends arguing around a corner at the end of the hall. Pinkie Pie complained, “We can’t get rid of the confetti cannons!” The silence lasted a couple heartbeats, then “I don’t remember where I hid them.”
The arguing started up again, along with the sound of furniture being moved and the sound of birds twittering angrily at one another. I detected an odd barnyard scent. Heavy fabric hit the floor with a thunk. Something ceramic cracked. “Well, I never!” cried Rarity, before clattering hooves moved closer.
Embarrassed to be known overhearing the conversation, I dodged into a largely empty room furnished with a stone table in the center, a dozen crystal chairs with woven spun glass seats, and some barrels. Dust swirled in the air. Boxes were piled in a corner. Toward the front of the castle, tall slightly open double doors led into another room, running parallel to the main hall.
In the main hallway, hooves stopped and turned back. I hazarded another look and found the way empty. Now everypony shouted, but when something went bang, Pinkie Pie clearly squealed.
This was taking too long, and these girls–ironically, the Elements of Harmony–were way too scary to face in an irritated state. I had to fix the wall. Or lose my job. I took a deep breath and hovered, ready to leave the key in the castle door’s lock.
“Oh, Hi!” Pinkie Pie said.
I coughed and collided with the stone transom, careened off the ceiling, and fell scattering the chairs. I had landed upside down, facing away from the double-doors. I looked for doors opposite that I might have missed, but found none.
“La la-la la-la,” Pinkie said quietly and bounced around the room with amazing stealth. She balanced a box of cylinders on her back. I scrambled up, but as I did, I heard an echo from outside.
It wasn’t an echo. It was Pinkie telling a joke down the hallway and around the corner.
When I glanced back, the Pinkie apparition had disappeared, but the doors to the next room lay open. I trotted over and to my consternation, Pinkie bounded around a room of castle-crystal coffee tables and mushroom stools. Purple draperies were piled in a corner, next to sacks of pantry staples. Pinkie’s blissful smile served as its own light in the darkened room. Her burden seemed lighter by a cylinder or two.
I followed as she continued into an adjoining room with a crystal four-poster bed and a wardrobe. Completely unadorned, it also lacked sheets or pillows. “What are you doing?” I asked. I feared she was a hallucination, perhaps from that cheap pail of malt I'd drunk last night.
“Forgetting things I won’t have time to remember later, Silly! Do you want to help?” She grabbed a gray cylinder about the size of a top hat in her mouth and spun it toward me. I dodged aside and the heavy thing landed with a rubber thunk. “La la-la…” She leapt into the next room down the line.
I pushed the thing under the bed, then shook my head surprised that I'd complied. The rubber footed thing had the weight of four or five bricks. With a shock, I realized they were confetti cannons.
The ones she didn’t remember where she placed them–
Because she was doing that now. But how? This was clearly Pinkie Pie, the one that ponies told all the strange stories about, like being able to outrun a fleeing Rainbow Dash on the wing, appearing before her everywhere she chose to hide.
I shivered. Mighty strange Earth Pony magic. Even so, I followed her as she placed her burden in shadows, nooks, and under things as she bounded along. She crossed to the opposite side of the main hallway to lay the last two cylinders in what looked like occupied bedrooms, before going down the stairs to the castle entrance.
I could leave the key with her! Even though I heard the her voice also arguing behind me, I trotted down the stairs. At the bottom, Pinkie dodged right instead of exiting, and disappeared behind a banister. Not wishing to get left behind, I took flight, rounding the corner rapidly.
At which point I found a blank stone wall in a blind alcove. Despite having walked through a plaster wall earlier, I was nonetheless surprised I was about to repeat my mistake, badly. I braked, but my small wings could only retard my velocity so much. I dropped the key, cringing and protecting my nose, as I rolled my shoulder up to take the blow.
The key clanked against the floor.
I felt no impact.
Instead, I plowed through the wall as if diving through a vertical pool of mud, embedding deeply, tightly, and snuggly, falling all the same. Before I could think of suffocating or becoming stuck, I rolled out of the cocooning glop with a loud puckering pop into the sunlight on a winter-browned grassy knoll, hitting hard enough to take my breath.
I somersaulted and came to rest on my back, my eyes shut, hyperventilating, saying words I won’t repeat. I may not have had claustrophobia before, but I felt an incipient case coming on. Shuddering, I rolled over and looked back at the castle.
No castle.
I blinked, looked again.
Still no castle.
I lay next to the brick Ponyville Way road, running due north out of town, which meant… I turned and saw the castle looming beyond Ponyville city hall, the clock tower, and the houses that gathered around Central Square. And I noticed the long shadow I cast, the orange light that played over the houses, the trees made bare for winter, and Canterlot mountain still covered with evergreens but blanketed in snow. The smell of dew filled the frosty air. I turned and faced a newly risen sun. I blinked repeatedly, so startled that I half-blinded myself.
Morning?
It was early-afternoon! I just gaped for minutes. If I'd had any chance of following Pinkie, it escaped me.
I walked back to town in a daze, noticing peripherally Carrot Top pulling a heavily charred wagon of carrots to the morning market, her breath condensing before her as she talked to a indigo stallion balancing a woven bushel basket on his back containing silver-gray winter squash and pumpkins. Before long, I recognized the tiny shed I rented by its sloped red tin roof and white-washed shingle siding. The last of the snow from the cough Dash-enhanced cough unexpectedly severe winter storm a few weeks ago lay heaped in its shadow.
I heard a clank of heavy metal striking more metal, then the tinkle of something metallic falling.
I slunk to a corner and hazarded a glance. I saw a beefy, hugely muscular pegasus with little wings and fiery red eyes fiddling with a busted clip on a worn heavily racked regulation weight bar. I remembered giving up on bending a clip this morning and tossing it into the bushes.
The white pegasus tossed the steel clip into the bushes, then gave a silent, “Yeah!”, flexing all his muscles to show muscle cuts and prominent blood vessels. Were body-building the thing it had be when his father were young, he’d be a contender.
I pulled back around the corner, sweating despite the cold. “That’s me,” I whispered. “I could go over there and introduce myself to me.”
Yeah, and likely give myself a heart-attack. Butterflies did scare me. Saying “Hi” to myself might mean a cold faint or a stoke.
I heard the clank-clank of weights as past-me executed a swift twenty-repetition set. It was an opportunity I would never get again, to see another me that didn’t react exactly as I did when I looked in a mirror.
What if I didn’t like my other me? Scared of butterflies, couldn’t keep job, always worried about looking bad, barely able to speak to other ponies, and with few friends. Sure, I might have a lot in common with him, but I doubted he’d be interested in me. Scared, yes; interested, not so much.
Yet, if nothing else, I could warn him not to be so excited that he walked through the paper-thin spa walls.
But if I did, and I didn’t faint, I’d probably do something equally stupid instead. Besides which, I didn’t remember seeing myself in what had been my morning until that changed fifteen minutes ago. If I did change what I remembered, would I never go to the castle and then cease to exist?
I heard an unclipped weight scrape to the end of the bar, fall with a thump, then a loud “Horse apples!”
Reflexively, I galloped away. This morning I had chased a rolling weight into the street. I rounded the main house to which my shed was attached and heard a querulous, “Hello?” behind me.
Sometimes I found a curious mare or two watching, then disappearing.
I dashed into town, unable to remember if I’d said “hello” or not this morning. I slowed as ponies noticed me; then blended as best somebody like me could, considering my bulk. A few greeted me on the way to early jobs, but only perfunctorily. As a neared Central Square, I saw the Blossom sisters leave, heading out of town in the opposite direction, pulling an empty wagon in a double hitch. That’s right–they’d gone to pick up candles.
And wouldn’t return until 10 AM, at which time I had arrived to help them unload. I smiled. I could build two wall patches for the disaster past-me would make later in the day and put them in the storeroom, which would be the first place I would have looked for building materials after I returned from the castle. Not only would I be able to fix the mess I made, I would then be able to fix it far quicker than expected and would undoubtedly impress my bosses with my utility.
I set to work, finding everything I needed where I expected it.
Isolated, doing construction, something at which I was well versed, I calmed and began to think about the strange opportunity reliving the day had brought me. I couldn’t change what I knew happened, but I could prepare.
I also thought about the arguing I had overheard in the castle, and the preceding conversation with Spike.
The pieces suddenly fit together. The princess’ friends had been trying to fix up that beastly stark-cold castle, wanting to make it more like a home–and were totally failing. The next thought came so unexpectedly, I opened my mouth and let go of the hammer mid-swing. It clattered to the flagstone floor with sparks.
Nopony had given Princess Twilight a house-warming gift.
Nopony.
And somepony had to fix that.
I thought as I worked, preparing the patches so that simple sawing, plastering, and possibly a quick coat of paint could be applied in the hour and a half I would have. I shook my head, then thought some more. Could I do it? I was differently shy than that famously shy Fluttershy, but shy nonetheless, and tongue-tied around others. It couldn’t work.
I was mixing a can of pastel green to match the main room of the spa, when I also thought of Pinkie Pie. Had I inadvertently blundered into one of the patently pink pony’s famously convoluted inside-out perfect solutions to a perplexing problem?
Was I supposed to fix this thing that the arguing inharmonious Elements of Harmony could not?
I heard the double-hitch bang on the pavement outside, and my autograph “Yeah!” as I greeted the sisters. I dashed out the back, suddenly—scarily enthusiastic.
That all changed the moment I saw the ponies on the street. That frustrating reticence returned, making it difficult for me to stop and talk. Herds of pastel ponies walked by, none of them really looking at me. I imagined they thought of me as a big ruffian brute ready to become a bully. And I really didn't know, because I didn't ask. Or rather, couldn't.
What I needed was something to speak for me. I trotted over to the Sofa and Quill, thinking I would buy paper to write out a handbill to show, but then I saw a black-maned, magenta unicorn mare copying a document magically into a book. If I could get a few dozen...
"Uh, ma’am. I need a mess of invitations printed up."
Crystal blue eyes rose to look at me, then she dismissively returned to magically transferring print-like loops of squid-black spaghetti from right to left. She said, "The printshop can do it overnight and it will cost you less."
"But, I need it now."
She fished out the last word and placed it, then said, “A lack of planning on your part doesn't constitute an emergency—" Her eyes scanned me up and down; I must have looked truly crestfallen. My brow felt wrinkled, so perhaps I did. She sighed. "A detailed invitation takes time to copy. More than one color complicates—"
"No, no. Just hoof-print without color, that's all!”
"Let's see it."
"Can I have a quill?
The mare stopped herself before doing even half an eye roll, levitated a pad and pencil at me, and wrapped up her previous job. Were you a pegasus of my stature, you’d understand how hard it is to write, and why most draftsponies and, depressingly, architects were unicorns. The pencil in my lips staggered drunkenly across the paper, producing childlike print. When it came to the drawing of the castle I imagined in my head, I decided to go with a childlike motif and drew a rudimentary spire, a setting sun behind it, and a stick-figure pony with a crown.
The unicorn took my pencil so I didn’t have to spit it out. Her toothy smile demonstrated that she read upside down. “A surprise house-warming for the Princess?”
“I visited the castle; it’s so cold and empty. Her friends are trying to help out, but…” and I blathered on a minute in that vein.
“Twilight Sparkle’s our most loyal stationary customer, and so friendly. She taught me my copy spell! Not only will I attend, I’m going to help by doing this job for free.”
An hour later, I walked out with a shoulder-strapped messenger bag filled with a ream of invitations. I trotted, practicing introductions in my head, “Hi, we’re surprising the princess–” No. “The princess is having a surprise–” No. “We’re warming the princess–”
I found myself at the morning market, ponies folding up their stalls and packing their carts. A orange-maned pale yellow mare with a carrot cutie mark dragged a tarp that scraped loudly as he pushed it over the side of her charred wagon. I waited until she saw me and gave the startle at my size that many gave, then grabbed a flyer with my lips from my bag. I mumbled something that sounded like, “It’s a surprise.”
The mare’s face tightened. The weight of the forgotten tarp pulled it back over and it landed loudly at her hooves. “After she destroyed my western acreage fighting and set my farm on fire, I’m not feeling so charitable.” She glared.
I dropped the flyer to say, “Fighting Lord Tirek?”
“Monsters!” She spat, picking up the tarp and dismissing me.
A white red-maned pony appeared beside me, saying, “Carrot Top! Take that back. She saved us.”
I said, “Twilight saved me. Lord Tirek stole the magic that let me fly.”
Carrot Top rounded on us both. “Everybody knows that unicorn magic is made of rainbows and can’t hurt anybody directly! That fight was totally unneeded.”
“But she saved Ponyville by doing so,” a new voice said. I looked and saw a gray mane and glasses before recognizing Mayor Mare. “Had she let Tirek choose to fight her here, Ponyville would be a cinder.”
I added, “The only building destroyed in town was the Princess’ home.”
“And mine,” Carrot top said and sighed. “I get that she saved Equestria… again, but winter came quickly, okay?”
The mayor turned my flyer with her hoof. “A house warming?”
“A surprise,” I said, but turned around and faced the town hall. Quietly to Mayor Mare, I asked, glancing back, “Did anybody help her?”
“I think so. I hope so. I’ll check,” she nodded. “Can I have a flyer? I’ll pass it around the offices.”
“Sure.” I reached over and gave her a few.
The red-maned pony said, “Princess Twilight moved in a few months ago.” The unicorn took the flyer I gave her.
I said, “Best I can figure, nobody thought to help her move in.” I shrugged. “Guess she really had nothing to move after what happened to the library.”
“She didn’t furnish it?”
“The crown doesn’t pay her much. Inside, it’s a Baltimare-industrial aesthetic rendered in blue and purple crystal instead of exposed pipes and beams, and the color isn’t a palette a pony would call cheery. The cavernous interior is totally devoid of decor, and really any furnishing but for some built-in tables and things like that; some bookcases; I did see a bed. Everything’s stone or crystal.”
A few other ponies gathered around and soon I had handed out a dozen fliers. “This is a flash party. Bring food, and bring something that will make the princess feel she’s a part of your home, too. Something homey…” I said, scuffing my hoof on the ground and looking away from the growing crowd. “And it's a secret. Don’t tell the princess or her friends if you see them, and don’t show up early! To be a flash party, it must start before the Princess knows what happened to her.”
Before I knew it, ponies had taken half the fliers to spread the word and my voice had become hoarse after explaining a flash party so many times. Others chatted joyfully about how Twilight had directly or indirectly changed their lives, usually for the better. She had interceded with Celestia for many a business, tutored children, saved the town from all manner of things from Nightmare Moon to Discordian chaos. Even when Twilight was the target of the grief, like from Trixie or Tirek, or made it worse like during the parasprite infestation, most were forgiving because she made it right in the end–
–which had me flying toward what many unofficially called Twilight's Field of Honor.
I found Carrot Top still pulling northward on Ponyville Way, but she turned onto a dirt path as I landed, the leaf springs of her wagon squeaking as the rutted ground warped the angle of its wheels. Groceries and a bag of beans replaced the morning’s carrots. "Not going," she said.
"I got that." I trotted along silently, looking at the bare trees. Ahead, I could see a three-story high trench of red dirt that ran nearly a league parallel to the road. A line of tower-like hoodoos of stacked boulders lay partially shattered in the near distance, along with a massive hockey puck of soil that lay slumped against a hill, gnarly roots exposed to the sunlight.
Had any of that struck somepony during the battle... I swallowed hard and noticed a charred orchard ahead. When the mare remained silent, I added, "You spoke honestly, and yeah, I am fine with you speaking your peace."
Orange eyes gave me a momentary glare, then she faced forward in the harness and hung her neck down in exhaustion. "And now you feel sorry for me?"
I could see her farm buildings, and the remnants of a burnt silo and equipment shed with a melted corrugated roof. Fallen red rocks had been dragged into a mismatched fence of stone. Untreated planks and an inexpertly applied mess of tar showed where one rock had holed the roof of her golden-rod painted farmhouse.
"Yes I do—" and I spoke over her hot retort, "Both peasants like us, and princesses, need some kindness. I'm really good at construction and rather strong, even compared to an earth pony farmer like you. Monday is my day off. I'm going to help you fix that roof better before the next winter storm and then you can ask me to help with other things if you think I did a good job."
And with that, I rocketed into the sky, trying to ignore the tortured landscape that had been gouged and horribly torn by the late summer's titanic battle, and that Carrot Top said nothing.
After that, my pony-to-pony skill felt fully warmed up. Returning to Ponyville actually became fun. Within an hour, I was certain every last pony who hadn't already been clued in to the castle warming party knew about it.
And people noticed me–giving me a secret wink–whereas yesterday I may as well have been invisible. And it wasn't that they were hypocritical; I now realized I'd never wanted to be noticed before and had never given anypony reason to notice.
When I noticed myself two blocks away, a crystal key in my mouth, crossing an intersection to Sugarcube corner, I flew into the shadows atop a nearby shake-shingled rooftop. Mr. Oblivious Bulk Biceps missed the knowing wink from Mrs. Cake.
It would never have occurred to past-me that anypony would have winked at me.
I returned to the spa and quickly patched the wall. Having estimated the break well, I had only to saw a bit of the plasterboard. A helpful unicorn patron helped by quickly drying the spackle and smoothing it. The pastel green paint looked perfect as my 4 o’clock, a blond-maned red farm stallion, walked through the door, ringing the chime.
I gave Lotus my last flier as I primped my uniform outside my massage room. She said, “You’ve been one busy little pony,” then closed her eyes and squealed daintily, doing that little quick-step dance she and her sister did when they had an idea!. "We'll be dhere. A royal massage table, yes! I’ll go tell our evening appointments right now!”
Even Big Mac was excited about the event. He really needed the massage because as soon as he’d learned of the party, he’d set to work building a gazebo to put on the shore of the lake behind the castle, perhaps near the waterfall. He had then had to take it apart in modules so he could transport it. When I told him about turning one of the rooms into a gym, he agreed to pull his wagon to my shed so I could load it up.
The entire town was excited. I really don’t know how Davenport, the Quill and Sofa clerk, held a straight face tending to Twilight as Spike stalled in his shop. For that matter, the town was abuzz about the antics of all her five friends as they dug up some of the roots of the Golden Oaks Library and bought things for what appeared to be a massive arts project, completely oblivious to what was happening around them.
You really don’t know how many ponies really live in your town until all of them gather in one place. I had heard stories of massive sheep round-ups, but what I saw behind me blew away any preconceptions. Minutes after Twilight had entered the castle, as Celestia finally put the sun away for the day, a living-breathing rainbow condensed on the paths, the greens, and the road that led out to the castle. Pegasi flew in, but unicorns and earth ponies arrived on hoof. Many pulled wagons on the road and in the sky. The smell of barbecue corn and other delicacies curled through the air on tendrils of flavored smoke from dozens of food carts. Despite attempts by most for silence, their approach produced a hard to ignore earthquake-like rumble.
Then again, the practically hermetically sealed, literally extruded, crystal tree-palace probably exceeded any building code standards for noise insulation by incredible margins.
Mayor Mare pressed through the crowd and trotted up to me in front of the stairs. She nodded at me and said, “Your idea, young sir. You go first.”
Big Mac beside me said, “e–Yup.”
My heart jumped into my throat, but I still managed a hoof-pump and a silent, “Yeah!” And up I went. I pushed open the door. One pony or many, the sound of hoof falls in those echoing halls would be unmistakable. I motioned for anypony who wanted to follow.
I flew up to the top of the stairs, at which time I heard a loud bang, the plop of something wet, and the fizz of confetti spewing into the air. I hurried ahead, with the others cresting the top of the stairs. I clearly heard Pinkie Pie say, “What? It’s not my fault I hid them so well!”, then saw the mess of a cake into which a confetti cannon had been baked. Frosting coated much of the pink pony, the door, and the outside hall. The unmistakable scent of butter and sugar wafted at me. The remaining five friends, spattered with flecks of green, red, and yellow, broke into outrageous giggles and laughter.
After a few seconds, I said, “Well, I can help you find them.”
Fluttershy startled and landed on her back, and the rest turned in shock. To my remark, Pinkie said, “Awww. I guess you could.” She winked at me as ponies filled the hallway, carrying all sort of house warming gifts by mouth or balanced on their backs. While Spike clapped loudly, Twilight hastily grabbed the frosting and cake remnants in her magic and piled it aside.
“Princess–” I said and bowed. “–this is your long overdue house warming party. And I invited a few of your other friends. I hope you don’t mind…”
The princess’ eyes flooded with tears. She proceeded to say “Thank you! Thank you!” like a broken record, unable to stop, mingling and hugging as she went. A brass band started to play and soon competed with hundreds of voices, and not long after that, the sounds of confetti cannons triggering. Princess Celestia arrived minutes after Spike sent her a missive, but the party only quieted a moment.
Much later, I found an orange mane in the crowd, which I identified as belonging to Carrot Top. She balanced on her back a wooden key holder that looked like a xylophone, hoof-painted with daisies, with polished brass pegs sturdy enough to hold one very special crystal key. She looked uncomfortable, half-smiling at me, as if she were worried others might fault her for having said her peace today.
Over the roar of voices and music, I said, loudly, “Yeah! Princess Twilight and Spike will love your gift.”
Author's Note
This EqD WTG submission seemed impossible on first read of the requirements, but then Bulk Biceps spoke up and explained how running into Pinkie Pie and her confetti cannons changed his life. That and that time loop thang. This is one of those stories that I literally had no idea how I would accomplish what I did accomplish, though you are the final arbiter of that claim. A fun idea like time travel does not necessarily result in a friendship lesson so central to these stories. It also hits all three WTG prompts.
Sins of the writer:
- Very long sentences. I hope they didn't kick you out of the story.
- Use of alliteration. That must be Pinkie Pie's influence.
- Too much description in some places.
All these things, in a world without deadlines, would have caused to revise and revise in an all to familiar death spiral that has hampered the completion of more than one novel. I have decided I love deadlines. It forced me to write blindly and completely, knowing I must write well and story tell carefully because there would be only one draft. The only backfill I did was turn Spike's comment about Twilight's stipend in the original work into a reason for the crowd to understand why Twilight had not furnished her castle. I hope you saw that, and tell me if you didn't!
Critique Requested on anything I didn't mention above. Tell me what you thought I wrote and why that didn't work for you. I really like knowing where I messed up. Not only does it make me a better writer, it'll make you better at critiquing. Thanks in advance!
For anyone wanting to know what I thought of the original episode, Castle Sweet Castle, please visit my blog ate Marethoning Pony.
