Magic Is Dead
Principal Abacus Cinch pounded her tightly clenched fist on the rim of the steering wheel, her teeth clenched and her eyes glaring. Cinch was stationary in a vintage restaurant's parking lot. She kept turning the ignition key each time with more force than the last. Her engine turned over but didn't burst into life.
First those darn Canterlot students making a fool of me and now my car is doing the same, Cinch growled as she gave the wooden steering wheel another hard punch before resting her head on the horn cushion. Suddenly, she heard a knocking on her window.
"Ya know, if you keep hitting that steering wheel it's gonna fall right off," a muffled voice was heard from outside.
Cinch jolted her head towards the window, her heart skipping a beat and her face turned pale and tense. In her sight was a young man wearing a flat cap. It was late at night, Cinch was unable to see his face clearly but she was able to see his bright smile. His arm rested on the roof of her car as he stared through her window.
"Who are you?" Cinch demanded, trying her best to sound authoritative while hiding her trembling hands from his view. "What do you want?"
The stranger laughed. "It's been three years and you already forgot what I look like?" He took off his flat cap, revealing his white ragged hair. "I'm offended."
"Fife?" Cinch squinted her eyes, color slowly returning to her face. "Is that really you?"
"In the flesh, Mom," Fife's smile grew into a grin. "Happy to see me?"
Cinch unbuckled her seatbelt and hurried out of the car, clutching Fife in a tight hug. "I missed you." She pecked him on the cheek. "What are you doing here?"
"I decided to stop for a drink before I drive home."
"Oh, do you still live outside of Seattle?"
"Yeah," Fife scratched his head before putting on his cap. "Still don't really like it here in California."
Cinch chuckled, "You never did. And you left me alone when you moved out of state."
"Hehe, sorry. I was going to stop by your house later but here I find you. What's wrong with the car?"
"The car won't start." Cinch glared at the car.
"Can you try it again?" Cinch nodded and reached into the car and turned the key. Fife listened to the engine as it kept turning over. "Okay, you can stop now."
"So what is it?" Cinch asked.
"Well, it's not related to the battery."
"How do you know?"
"I know, trust me. If it was the battery the engine would turn over weakly if not at all.”
"Well, can you fix it? I don't want to spend the night at this dreary place."
"This place isn't bad-,"
"Just because this place sells your favorite macaroni pie doesn't mean that here is the best eatery in the world."
Fife crossed his arms and pouted. Cinch playfully tapped him on the shoulder. A gust of wind blew past them, making them shiver. Fife, tightening his jacket closer, looked up to see the setting sun and the evening stars peeping in the dark sky.
"How about this, it's getting colder and it's really dark, too dark to fix the car."
"And?"
"And knowing you so well, I'm guessing the problem is related to you not servicing the car."
"It's a Mercedes," Cinch gestured to her car, the paint color only a few shades darker than her turquoise skin. "Isn't Mercedes supposed to be the best car in the world? Why do I have to service it?"
Fife burst into laughter, tiny drops of saliva flew from his mouth as he held his sides tightly. Cinch glared at him, which in turn only made him laugh louder. Nearby bikers glanced at the commotion he made.
"Hey, Principal Cinch," a biker with short, striped blue hair called out to her. "Didn't expect you here. Whatcha up to?"
"I'm up to my own business, miss Zap."
"That was a bit harsh," Fife exclaimed before Cinch or Indigo Zap could ask another question. "Why so snappy?"
Cinch sighed as she rubbed her temples. "I had a long day and I just want to go home."
"Well how about this, I'll take you home and I'll stay the night and we'll deal with the car in the morning?"
"Better than nothing, if you ask me."
Fife shook his head. "You're welcome, Mom.”
"Hey," Indigo Zap shouted at the duo, "you with the hat. Principal Cinch is your mother?"
"Oh, why do you care, miss Zap?" Cinch spat. "Why are you pestering me? Why aren't you pestering your new friends from Canterlot?"
"I think we should go before we start a conflict." Fife suggested.
"Ugh, fine."
"Splendid, it'll be just like old times."
Cinch locked her car and followed Fife towards his vehicle. "Where's your car?"
"It's parked next to the bikers." Fife pointed towards the direction of the car.
"You mean the Porsche?" Cinch squinted her eyes. The Porsche was old, a classic hailed by many fans and enthusiasts. It was painted in a smoky gulf blue coat.
"Yep." Fife opened the passenger door, allowing his mother to step inside. He shut the door with a thud before feeling a tug on his shoulder.
"Is she really your mother?" The blue-haired biker whispered, the expression on her face and the grip she had on Fife's shirt pressuring him for an answer.
"Yeah, she is," Fife whispered back with a grin. "Surprised?"
"You look nothing like her." Indigo released her grip, her jaw hanging. Fife shrugged his shoulders.
"I should take her home, it was great meeting you."
"You too. My name's Indigo Zap, by the way." Indigo Zap mock saluted.
"Fife Cinch. Awesome Yamaha," Fife gestured to Indigo's fiery yellow motorcycle.
"Thanks," Indigo smirked while patting the motorcycle seat. "Isn't it a beauty? Nice Porsche, the color reminds me of an illusionist that goes to Canterlot High."
"Thank you. It is-"
"What are you doing out there?" A grumpy Cinch called out.
Fife gave a sheepish smile. "I should go. See ya."
"Bye." Indigo Zap waved as Fife entered his car.
"I thought you forgot me in here." Cinch's arms were folded, but her lips formed a smirk.
Fife said nothing, opting to start the car. The car started with a loud roar before rolling forwards out of the parking lot and onto the open road.
"After all these years you still have this old thing?" Cinch asked, looking around the interior of the car.
"Yeah, I still kept it."
"Why? It's really old."
Fife hesitated and swallowed before answering. "Well one, this is a classic 911. Also, you gave it to me when I got my license."
"But that was a long time ago."
"It wasn't that long, just five years ago. Anyway, enough of the car, how have you been doing?"
"... fine." Cinch folded her arms.
"That sounds like anything but fine." Fife glanced at Cinch. "Want to talk about it?"
The older woman stood a breath, hesitated, then spoke. Slowly.
"Crystal Prep lost the Friendship Games,” The principal muttered.
"What?" Fife's eyes widened. He turned his head towards Cinch for a second, baffled, before a passing horn blared, redirecting his eyes on the road.
"You heard me. We lost."
"You know," Fife hesitated, "there's a lot of things I never expected to hear in life but hearing that Crystal Prep loses a game is at the top of the list. I almost don't believe it."
"Well, it's true. Canterlot beat us."
"But how? You always choose good students."
"Yes, but they were not good enough this time. They made me look like a fool now. No one's going to take me seriously anymore. Not Canterlot High School, not the San Francisco Education Board, I bet not even my own students. I may as well resign to save face."
Fife listened to Cinch's rant without a word. When she finished he said, "So you're worried about how people will see you now?"
"Yes. I have a reputation to uphold. You of all people should know that."
"What ... is it with you and how people see you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're really obsessed with status."
"How else would people understand that I mean business?"
"You ... you were never like that. You were not obsessed with how you look when I was growing up with you. I still remember how you looked like when you found me on the street."
"No way. You were too youn-"
"You were relaxed, you never used to dress as uptight as you do now," Fife paused, swallowed, then slowly continued. “Your voice was kind. Before you showed up I was really afraid of the dark. But when you talked to me I wasn't afraid anymore and I didn't want you to leave. Now your voice is cold."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that you changed, Mom. When you became a principal, when you started getting involved in all of those committees and organizations and the Board, you changed from the caring loving mother I knew and loved to ... what you are now, only caring about what people think about you.”
“Before you got involved in the Board you were not as demanding about perfection as you are now. Before you became from a counselor to a principal you genuinely cared about each student that visited you, even taking time out of your lunch break to help them.”
"Before you became a principal you never even thought about blackmailing a student to play in the Games under penalty of losing admission to a university she badly wanted to go to."
"How did you hear about that?" Cinch's eyes bulged, color draining from her face as she stared at her surrogate son.
"News really spreads fast when they get a scoop, ya know?"
"Who told you?" Cinch demanded.
"There was a news article already published a few hours after the Friendship Games finished this morning.”
"So you already knew that we lost?"
"Yep."
"So why were you pretending to be all surprised and concerned?"
"Because it's still shocking, at least hearing it from you. You're not one to admit something like that. Also, it was a Fox News article."
"Say no more." Cinch replied. They both chuckled for what seemed like half a minute. Then silence fell between them.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you feel the need to blackmail her?"
The principal said nothing for a few seconds, then responded. "That student's name is Twilight Sparkle, currently the best in Crystal Prep. Do you know who she's like?"
"Uh, no. Who?"
Cinch chuckled. "She's basically you. Both of you are always researching and studying at every chance you two get. The only difference between you and Twilight is that she is a shy girl and you're just an introvert. But besides that, you two are so alike."
"Really?"
"Yeah. She even uses your old hideaway office in Crystal Prep."
"Does she now? But what does that have to do with you blackmailing her?"
"Because you used to play in the Friendship Games and you were always the best we had, even though your physical endurance was basically a negative number on a scale of one to ten. When you were there, playing, it was always a guaranteed win for the academy. Every time."
"So she was a big asset to winning, wasn't she?"
"Yes she was," Cinch sighed as her head hung. "But it went all wrong. I guess you're right, I was too obsessed with status and competition that I went too far and lost it long ago."
Fife playfully leaned across the center console and bumped into Cinch. "There's the old Mom that I love."
Cinch gave her son a light push, laughing at he antics. Fife in turn laughed.
"Just like old times, eh Mom?" Fife grinned.
"Yeah, old times indeed." Cinch smiled. Not a smirk, but a gentle, genuine smile.
The road was empty and the Porsche roared happily at the clear path ahead. Fife looked left and right looking out for any possible troopers. He then pulled at a red traffic light.
"So uh," Fife swallowed, "when I read the article it said that there was some kind of strange force being manipulated during the games. What ... force was that?"
The traffic light turned green and Fife slowly drove forward.
"You probably won't believe it." Cinch replied.
"Come on, tell me." Fife urged.
A pause, then the principal replied, her response stunning to Fife that you could hear a pin drop.
"Magic."
Fife remained silent for what seemed like hours. "What?" He glanced at Cinch, his right eyebrow raised.
"Canterlot High and Twilight Sparkle used magic in the games."
"No no," Fife shook his head and rubbed his forehead. "What are you talking about?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's no such thing as magic."
"Trust me, there is. It was real." Cinch chuckled.
No, it can't be magic. It must be something else,” Fife responded firmly.
"I saw it with my own eyes."
"You wear glasses, it probably looked like what we would think as magic but is probably something else." Fife spoke louder.
Cinch looked at Fife. "It opened up holes in thin air and there was a place that looked like a town with lots of strange looking horses. Some of the students almost fell in those holes."
"It was probably some kind of wormhole."
"Wormhole? Are you even listening to yourself? What kind of wormhole, if any, would cause that? You’re not making sense.”
Fife tightly massaged his eyes as her son shook his head furiously. “No you are the one not making sense. I don't know what it was but it can't be magic. Magic is a myth."
“FIFE!,” Cinch shouted, "I know what I saw and what I saw was magic. What's gotten into you?"
"No it can't be. Magic is a dead myth! If it were really magic I would know. You're just wrong. MAGIC IS A FAIRYTALE!” Fife replied, his voice well heard over the sound of the engine.
The air was tense, nothing was said for a long time.
"I'm sorry,” Fife said, almost to a whisper.
Cinch said nothing, thinking about what caused Fife to behave the way he acted, the way he fought with his persistence.
"What do you mean you would know?"
"What?"
"You said that if there was magic that you would know. What do you mean?"
"Nothing,” Fife promptly replied, shaking his head for emphasis.
"What do you mean nothing?" Cinch prodded for an answer.
"Just... nothing. Just forget I said it. Okay?"
"...Fine."
Cinch's eyes slowly darted back and forth, analyzing every inch of the car she once owned. The interior hadn't changed one bit. The seats still bragged its same deep leafy green leather that exposed almost wear and heavy use. The wine red floor mats were no different from the floor mats she used. There were virtually no scratches on the windows, even so with the rear view mirror. She faced her attention to the road ahead, the road to her home.
Cinch took a second to glance where the mirror hung. Dangling from the mirror swayed a glimmering blood red stone attached to a long black string. She took of her glasses and rubbed her eyes; the duo passed Canterlot High campus, and she swore she saw the stone emitted a glowing pulse as they drove past the prancing statue.
Fife's hands were fiddling wheel on the steering wheel. His eyes were on the road but he seemed to be in slight daze.
No, Fife thought. There can't be. I don't need it. I never needed it for a while, I don't need it back in my life. It's dead in my mind and it has to stay that way. I’m not going to give in.
