Forging Harmony Arc 1; Creating the Elements

At this time of year, our vineyard was filled with drunken innkeepers, hoarding our load into their chariots, ready to get drunk once again.  Our grapes had a fine, sweet aroma to them. It often pleased our customers. We dealt with the average citizen just as often as we did with drunkards. Mother didn't dare come outside anymore. Even though she's young, she's pale and sickly. I dun have the money to pay for her health.

Seventeen years ago, when mah mother was jus' a young, hardworkin mare, a drunken earth pony came i, and started hittin on her. Grandpa tried keepin him away from her, but to no avail. He beat him up pretty badly, and raped mah mother until she was bleedin. Several months later, I was born. Vine, they called me. I thought it was somewhat fittin. It was the chains from our yard he used to rape my mother. It was the whip he used to hit my grandma. It was the bondage he used to restrain her to the chair. It was the business that'd haunt me for the rest of my life. Vine...

My coat was sort of a green-ish yellow, but there was no doubt I had the prettiest mane in this neighborhood. No matter how much mud they'd throw at me, no matter how dirty I had to get, no matter how much blood on my hooves from the fights I fight, there was no way to hide my emerald green mane. I dun know what to do with it, so I jus' let it dangle on the side of my face. I tried tyin a ponytail with it, but the boys startin to call me slut. Man I hate this place. I wish I could jus' leave this wretched yard, and go somewhere else. I heard Canterlot was a mighty fine place. Anythin was better than this.

That night, grandpa was drunk, and grandma had a hard time takin care of her little girl. I couldn't look back at them like this. There wasn't much I could do on the vineyard, no matter how hard I worked. Sometimes I wish I was born in a different time. I hate it here. Those bastards don't think mares are strong and independent. We ain't got any money either, so no high-life for me. I had to endure their constant abuse, waitin for the day I'll cry over mother's grave. I couldn't live like this. I left them a note. I can't stay here anymore.

Outside, I turned back one last time at the vineyard. My name told me I wouldn't belong anywhere else in this world. I heard about somethin called a cutie mark. They say it's a symbol of grace, expressin your inner talent. "However, it would only come to those who wait patiently, and give it their best in life." Horseshit. I dun believe in fairy-tales. I dun believe in miracles. All I want is to get the heck out of this place. All I want is a better life, for mah family and me. If a so-called "cutie mark" can gimme that, then I'll gladly have a half-ass flower on mah flank.