The Once Great Now Forgotten

by Lack of Tact

Rating: teen
Tags: Trixie, Profanity, Slice of Life, Main 6, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 1062

Trixie Lulamoon: Magic aficionado, show-mare, self-proclaimed Great and Powerful... and apparent amnesiac?

The closer we are to someone, the further our masks begin to slip.
It is when we forget to replace it, that our true selves show.

. . . . .

"My greatest performance?"

Trixie Lulamoon: Magic aficionado, show-mare, self-proclaimed Great and Powerful... and apparent amnesiac?

It was after the events of Trixie's first staging in Ponyville, the showmare found herself in a ditch. Not exactly a metaphorical one either; her wagon—or what she assumed was her wagon—was pulled neatly off to the side of the road. A star plastered on the door to the little trailer had a name that spanned across it:

Trixie's, but why doesn't she remember that being her name?

. . . . .

A story so aged in my backstock that the only cover image I have for it contains my old screen-name, Tactless Trix. God, what happened to this? This was one of my original ideas when I first hopped on the site and look at it. Look how I massacred my boy. I left it there for so long...

Ah, well, it's here now and that's what counts.

Forwarning, drama isn't my forte, so expect this to be like, a test run if you will.

:twilightsmile: Enjoy! :twilightsmile:

Published 2019-05-01 16:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-05-01 16:30:01 UTC

Disappearing Act?

Author's Note

Two Trixie stories in one day? The fuck is wrong with you, Tact?

yeah, yeah. i'll edit it when, as i've said before, i'm more not sleepy.

Disappearing Act?

She didn't know. The name looked... hay, sounded familiar as it left her lips, but it didn't at the same time. Trixie, it seemed so-so... foreign to her. She sighed as she ran her hoof along the door, over the name etched into the cart. What happened to her? How had she gotten herself in this mess? Either or, she didn't know. The azure mare glanced down the road behind her, the opposite of where the cart was facing. She was, at least she assumed she was coming from, well, wherever the road led. Had... no. No, she wasn't robbed or hurt in any way. She couldn't have been.

There were no sores, no bruising, no damage to her—again, all based on assumptions—cart. Maybe a spell had gone wrong? If so, was it hers or somepony else's? She couldn't tell. She removed her hoof from the door, only to grasp at the handle. Hesitation poured into her being. What if it isn't her caravan? This would be trespassing, certainly.

But what if it was?

With the seed of doubt placed, she pulled open the door and stared, blankly, inside. Small, empty thoughts raced through her head as she searched for something, anything to elicit a memory, but nothing stirred. This cart... it feels as if it's hers, but not? She raised a hoof and took a step inward. An empty photo frame sat on a desk, merely hoofsteps away from the bed. A peculiar knickknack, but still, nothing.

She very well could be trespassing and wouldn't for the life of her, know it.

She furthered into the trailer, dodging the rather too big dresser as she made her way to the bed. On a rack, just above the small berth, was a cape. Next to it a dainty little hat. Costuming? She didn't know. How could she? She didn't even know her own name, at this point. She let loose a sigh and opted to sit on the bed as she thought to herself. Surely, something in here could trigger a memory, right? A scrunchy with stray hairs caught in it, an empty bottle of her favourite drink, a mirror with a particular crack? Yet, even as she looked through the caravan's entirety, nothing came to mind.

Who was she?

With pursed lips, she glanced back to the rack holding the two articles of clothing. Out of everything in this trailer, they were the only things that stood out to her. She dare not bring herself to take them, however. After all, she was not even sure if this was her cart in the first place. Tentatively, she raised a hoof and touched the felt cape. The feeling of it felt foalish, to say the least, but nothing came to mind other than that. She placed her hoof back at her side.

She would find no answers here. None that she knew of, anyway. She stood back up on her hooves and left the trailer, everything where it was and nothing out of place. It wouldn't be good to have accidentally stolen something, now would it? After she closed the door behind her, she sighed to herself again, murmurs sent under her breath. Her own voice didn't sound like it belonged to her. Why would it; after all, she doesn't even know who she is. Nothing befitted of her old self would belong to her.

A breath of air, she looked down the winding dirt road. Seemingly nothing in the horizon, yet that was where she came from. That was the only thing she knew. Could she go back and find herself answers? Would she even know where back was? If there would be a fork in the road, surely she would be more lost than she already was. Yet, as offputting as it sounded, she knew it was the only chance she could take, lest she be forgotten. Forever. In both her own mind and in history.

She knew it was the right answer. With a trembling hoof, she stepped forward or rather, backward. Going to the beginning seemed like a good way to start finding herself. She nodded and moved her other hooves. Set in her ways, she started her journey back to... wherever it was she came from. She only hoped she liked the answers she'd find. Celestia—the name sounded comforting for some odd reason—knows what she'd do if she didn't.

The further ahead she got, the more the cart behind disappeared. It was only a matter of time before it would be out of her sight entirely. Only a matter of time before it would be too late to turn back and wait. Wait for what? She didn't know, but it sounded more enticing with each step. The dirt, sticking and unsticking to the frog of her hooves, drained her spirit. She didn't know how long this would take and she couldn't think of it, either.

Knowing who she was seemed more important than the physical toll it took on her body. Instead of having waited for help, this mare would actively seek it. Whoever she was, Trixie or somepony else, that was her then. In order to find herself, she knew she couldn't be them again. At least, that's what she'd thought. For better or for worse, she would trudge onward until she figured it out.

Hours passed. The cart long vanished from her view and she was no closer to finding civilization than when she'd started. The sun had begun to set and there was no shelter from the night. The trees, each oak, maple or pine she'd passed begun to blur together. With the fading light, so too did the road. Should she stop for the night? Make camp out of... something? Should she just continue forward?

Neither option seemed pleasing because neither option gave her a sense of she should. With a sigh, she stopped and stared ahead at the indefinite road ahead of her. She had to weigh her options. But most importantly...

She had to do it quickly. With the rising of the moon, the howls of animate timber followed. Certainly, not an option she was fond of.