Mirror: Book I - Mind

“What’s the deal with all of these certificates and invitations from Town Hall? I’ll bet that clumsy mail mare goofed up the mail again!” Cranky Doodle Donkey sent the letters careening across the coffee table as he slouched and channeled irritated flares through his nostrils, the nose hairs flapping like flags in the wind. If there was anything Cranky hated more than one misplaced letter, it was multiple misplaced letters.

“Didn’t I tell you already? The first meeting of the bi-weekly Ponies Front of Ponyville starts tomorrow.” Matilda wrapped her hooves around the strewn letters and neatly stacked them together. If there was anything Matilda hated more than her husband misplacing letters, it was him failing to understand the purpose of such letters in the first place.

“The front of a pony’s what now?” Cranky raised a floppy ear.

“P.F.O.P. for short.” His wife informed. “Since I never pursued a college career and instead married you, it’s just another one of my fantastical ideas to gather ponies from every corner of Ponyville into a nice, little community. The main topic? Anything! And that goes for every meeting, no need to recollect on what was discussed before or what might be planned for the future, unless the members request to do so, of course.”

“Why don’t you just start a book club or invite some friends over for tea?” Cranky mused, reclining into his stitched and torn chair.

“Are you mad? My reputation would be curtains!” Matilda swooned. “Just look at the state of this living room, and don’t get me started on the poor hedges out front. It’s been sixty moons since you last trimmed them.”

“We’ve only been here for twelve, dear.” Cranky relaxed.

Matilda said nothing, pressing her hooves to her hips and staring into her husband’s closed eyes. The old donkey peeked an eye open, feeling his wife’s laser vision pierce into his soul. He looked up and around at the front window next to the door, barely a sliver of light crawling its way through due to the overgrown hedges. Cranky prodded his chin.

“Maybe they do need a snip or two.” He mumbled, and turned to Matilda. “On second thought, don’t bother inviting any of your salon-goers. I’ve got work to do and they’ll just slow things down.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that. The meetings are at Town Hall every Sunday.” Matilda informed.

“Today is Sunday.” Cranky reassured.

“That’s ridiculous, if that were true then that would mean-” Matilda’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks as she craned her head downwards and stared back at the invitation fliers set all throughout town. “Oh no!” She cried.

“Not again…” Cranky groaned.

“These invitations aren’t for tomorrow, the meeting is today!” Matilda seemingly sprouted wings and soared across the living room, throwing her belongings together and charging for the front door.

“But I got such a good deal on those stamps…” Cranky groaned again. He continued to watch his wife bounce off the walls and dishevel the establishment into a far worse state than which it had begun. She hollered back a few unintelligible rhymes as she barreled past the front entrance and down the street, riding a beeline for the heart of Ponyville. The old donkey traveled back to the letters on the coffee table and picked one of them up, an irritated snort returning to his nostrils as his mind wandered to whom exactly he was going to blame for this.

Unfamiliar sounds bounced off of forgotten walls and slipped past the velvet-black curtains of unaccounted windows, into the warm wind of a bygone breeze, finally leading out into the great green of the unknown. Those sounds pounded against her head like a stick to the rib cage and the walls painted her sights like blood splattered against a perfect white canvas, a story yet to be told. Written with memories, remembered by pain alone. She had forgotten the feeling of pain long, long ago, and along with it her memories. Memories…memories of what?

Melody?

A Melody? Yes, quite. Only…what was this "melody" she was supposed to remember?

Miss Melody? Are you with us?

And then, she jolted awake.

“My my, if my tone truly is that boring you simply should have said so in the first place, dear.” Matilda chuckled and shook her head. “I take it the day was daunting?”

Melody looked around blearily at the ponies sitting before her. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, the figures of nine other equines, save for the donkey to her side, stared upon her with looks of both interest and indifference.

“Give the girl a brandy, that’ll wake her up.” A grape-wine coated mare laughed and held out a hoof to her neighbor, a white pegasus with freakishly large muscles easily equating to the size of three stallions put together.

The big, burly, snow white pegasus went wide eyed at the wine mare’s hoof bump and eagerly accepted the gesture, soon after pumping his over-sized pecs and bellowing into the company of ten. The strong, hearty “YEAH!” that escaped his lungs felt like someone had dropped an anvil from Cloudsdale, the bellowed cry more than enough to shake Melody from her daze and rock her awake. She wobbled in her chair and held onto it with both hooves.

“Celestia’s right flank, why did I sign up for this?” The poor mare cried to herself. She slapped both her hooves over her mouth in realization she had said such a thing out loud, and quickly turned to the one in charge. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say what I did. Truly, it’s been a bad week for me. Oh, I should’ve just stayed in Trottingham…”

“Trottingham?” Matilda spoke up. “You’re from Trottingham?”

“Ah, yes.” Melody answered back tiredly. “My father took my mother on a trip through the Griffish Isles when they were but a young couple. They decided to settle on the island when construction of the bridge was making transportation methods complicated.” She continued her explanations in hopes of making her conversation lively and to put her rude and spooked demeanor behind everything, but the look on Matilda’s face told Melody that she had seen it coming from a mile away.

“And what did your father do in Trottingham?” Matilda prodded.

“Well…” The mare tapped her hooves together nervously, this bit always striking a strange chord or two for some reason. “He was the housekeeper for the local auditorium. A-And my mother helped the local elders sew quilts for petty change. When I look back upon it, it was rather rubbish living…”

“But a living nonetheless.” Matilda consoled and turned to the rest of the group. “Miss Melody’s story is a perfect example of a pony never knowing what events in life might lead them where. Tell us, Miss Melody, did you as a young filly or even a young mare in Trottingham have any idea where you would end up within the next decade or so of your life?”

“If I’m thinking correctly as to where you are going with this, then no, I didn’t even think I’d end up in Ponyville of all places.” She admitted. “It goes to show that whether it be in moments of sureness or uncertainty, one can never be sure to what places and people life might carry them to.”

“I couldn’t have said it any better myself.” Matilda smiled warmly and turned back to the group. “If I am to quote a certain Miss Pinkie Pie: Life is full of surprises, but that doesn’t mean they’ll always be good. Life, in these old, cranky, nagging eyes of mine, is far too long to get a good grip on, but far too short to complain about either. That is why we are all here this evening, and I can only hope that everypony else here has come upon their own volition. Perhaps that would be a good way to start our first meeting as the Ponies Front of Ponyville.” Matilda declared confidently. “Is there anypony here who would like to tell us why they thought coming to this meeting was something they might enjoy or have interest in?”

At the slightest mention of a volunteer, the pre-installed cricket chirps sounded throughout the room, giving answer in compensation to those far too dulled or timid to even acknowledge the old donkey.

“Anypony at all?” Matilda questioned again. “Perhaps we can go back to Miss Melody?”

Why me? The pony whined within. I thought you were done with me…

“Say, what’s your name?” A pony asked.

“Huh?” Melody raised her head, eyeing the wine colored mare from before.

“Everypony’s got a name.” She said. “You can call me Berry Punch.”

“Ah, yes. Octavia.” Melody answered. “Octavia Melody.”

“What’s got you all bummed out, then?” Berry prodded. “Tell us all about it, maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

Octavia slowly turned to Matilda for help.

“You haven’t any reason to fret, dear.” Matilda rested a hoof to her shoulder. “We are here to talk, we all are, about anything and everything. If you do however don’t feel so comfortable doing so, there is no shame in saying so.”

Octavia threw a blank expression to her audience for a short moment before realizing her behavior in the current situation. She was a grown mare for crying out loud, not some quivering foal standing before a classroom struggling to deliver a presentation. The musician fixed her bow tie and cleared her throat. “That shalln’t be necessary.” She stated. She raised a hoof to the small crowd for dramatic pause and slowly lowered it. “I will tell you my tale of woe, the reason for my…sleepiness. It all began at approximately two o’clock in the afternoon, I had just finished composing the lyrical section of my new piece and I was out gathering groceries for my roommate and I…”

A near twenty minutes had passed in the time Octavia had told her tale, the majority of it spent from the two most enthusiastic of the bunch asking question after question concerning the musician’s shopping trip.

“So you uppercut into her jaw and followed with a slam dunk?” One asked fervently.

“I-I’m not quite sure momentum works like that…” Octavia rubbed her forehoof.

“What did this skank look like?” Berry quested.

“I wouldn’t call her as such. I mean, I suppose she did try to steal from me-”

“Did you suplex her?” The first followed up. “Please tell me you suplexed her.”

“Her spine is perfectly intact, I’m sure, and so is mine…”

“So, this skank looked skankish, right?” The wine mare returned.

“I’m not confident on how to answer that.” Octavia replied.

“Perhaps it’s best that we refrain from our interrogation and take Miss Melody’s word for it.” Matilda squeezed her way back in. “Octavia here simply had a bad day, and such happenings are easy to understand even in the light of a simple life style.”

If only it really were so simple… Octavia mused from within. She blinked in wonderment, as though the sudden thought weren’t her own.

“That is why we are all here, to revel in our troubles and find the good in them. To question both the big and small parts of our lives and relate to them with other ponies.” Matilda finished.

“Well, I’d like to think as such, but…” A pony across the room chuckled. “What can I say? I suppose these sorts of gatherings find me instead of me finding them.”

“And to who do we owe the pleasure?” Matilda prodded politely.

“The name’s Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.” She smiled dutifully at the rest of the members. “Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Matilda, I may come off as a little snarky, or at least that’s what my best friend in the whole wide world usually tells me, but I’m actually a sucker for social events like these. Sometimes I like to just blend into the background, y’know?”

“Was there anything special that might’ve drawn you to tonight’s meeting?” Matilda wondered.

“Oh, no.” Lyra corrected. “Actually I’ve been meaning to tell you, I never even bothered to sign up. I just walked right in and nopony said a thing.” Her smile did not fade.

“I see…” Matilda’s ears drooped a few inches. “Is there anypony else here who hadn’t bothered to put their name in the book?”

A timid, yellow hoof slowly rose from the scene, next to the white stallion’s round, brawny shoulder. Matilda turned her head in the direction and nodded.

“Yes, Miss Fluttershy, isn’t it?”

“Oh, um, no I didn’t forget to sign in to the book. I was just letting you know that my friends usually tell me I write really really really small, so I was worried that you might not see it. My name, I mean. Sorry.” And the little, yellow pegasus hid behind her long, pink mane.

It seemed as though after the quietest of the group had spoken her piece, the topics laid hush and not a word was put in place of the incoming cricket chirps surrounding the group of ten. An involuntary cough sounded throughout the room, even though nopony present had coughed at all.

“So how’d ya’ end up wandering in here in the first place?” Berry turned to Lyra. “A pony doesn’t just walk into Town Hall for no particular reason, that’s for sure.”

“Now that you mention it, I came here to apply for the position they’re looking to fill in the weather patrol team. Bon Bon kept nagging my head off to get a job, so I thought I’d actually try looking for one this morning.”

“Are you aware that you’re a unicorn, and not a pegasus?”

“Still doesn’t mean I can’t apply, right?” Lyra rubbed her forehoof.

“Hm, fair point.” Berry shrugged. “If it weren’t for my sister trying to apply to that job then I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Is your sister a pegasus?” Lyra asked.

“Heavens, no! The gal’s an earth mare for cryin’ out loud, born and raised from the very soil she tilled back in her day. Well, back in our day. My sis, Cherry, and I have been bonded since birth, like two grapes on a vine I always say.” Berry continued loudly. “Damn gal could never keep her eyes outta the clouds, swirling around in the sky and all that. It’s like the poor girl thinks she can fly! Can you believe that? An earth pony, flying?”

“If your sister is an earth pony like you say, why would she want to apply for a pegasus’ job?” Lyra wondered.

“Same reason you might’ve wanted to apply for that job. Or, maybe not. We’ve all got dreams, don’t we?”

“What are your dreams then?”

“That’s an easy one, drinking myself to sleep!” Berry guffawed and mimed opening a brimming bottle of whiskey, tipping it backwards and pouring the stuff down her throat. “Oh, but don’t let sis catch me saying that, she can’t even stand me joking about the stuff anymore! It’s like she always says ‘go get a job, go socialize somewhere other than a bar, do this, do that, blah blah blah!’ Sis, I love ya’ to death, but I can live my own life thank you very much.”

“Oh, please.” A haughty tone hovered their way. “I know a mare of your ilk could never hold a drink and a conversation at the same time. It’s too bad it takes you almost six or seven bottles to get a single coherent word out, and even then-”

“That’s enough, dear!” The stallion next to her sat up. “We didn’t come here to taunt other ponies, we came to this gathering to get help.”

“Then maybe you should have left me at home, since you seem so enthusiastic about it all.” The snobby mare shot back.

The stallion slicked his black mane back and looked to the host. “My sincere apologies, Matilda. I was hoping this would have gone a lot better.”

“No harm done, Mr. Rich, is it?” Matilda acknowledged. “I understand you own a business here in Ponyville?”

The colt in questioned fixed his tie and puffed his chest. “You heard right. That’s Filthy Rich, to you, owner of Barnyard Bargains and seller of the famous Sweet Apple Acres Zap Apple-”

“We didn’t come here to boast either, dear.” Rich’s wife sneered.

“And this is my lovely wife… Spoiled Rich.”

“A pleasure.” Spoiled hardly looked at the crowd.

“I wasn’t aware our gathering was meant to be a counseling session as well…” Matilda muttered. “Did it give off that vibe?”

Once again, crickets. They seemed to have the most to say during this meeting.

“If our presence is simply too much trouble, Mrs. Matilda, we understand-” Filthy began to rise from his seat.

“No no! Please, sit.” Matilda encouraged. “I’ve said it before and I will say it once again, these meetings are meant to be open to any topic, no matter what they might be about, and that certainly means marriage isn’t out of the question.” She nodded fervently. “Trust me, Mr. and Mrs. Rich, though I may not have been married as long as the two of you have been, I’ve gotten first hoof experience of the dilemmas that I am sure all lawfully wedded duos face. In my humbly educated guess, the first step to take is to simply talk about your problems. Do tell us, what is it that has been holding the two of you at feuds?”

“He buys me too much jewelry.” Spoiled quickly answered.

“Too much?! Just the other night ya’ said ya’ had too little!” Filthy cried.

“I do believe I see what the problem here is.” Matilda included.

“You do?” Both the Rich’s heads turned to her, putting pressure upon the poor donkey.

“Of course! Er…” Matilda struggled. “Your vows! However could you forget your marriage vows?”

“Our marriage vows?” They asked again in unison.

“Why, I remember the vows my husband and I took the very evening our wedding was to commence. Surely the two of you have such endearing thoughts and words that you hold near and dear to your hearts even to this day?”

Filthy and Spoiled stared unblinkingly at the host. “What are marriage vows?” They both asked.

“Oh, dear…Now I really do see what the problem is.” Matilda admitted.

“Your marriage vows?” A hefty voice sounded across the room. “I remember those!”

“I beg your pardon?” Matilda looked beyond and eyed the big, white stallion sitting across from her, the chair beneath his rump warping and struggling to keep him off the ground. Matilda remembered this pony vividly, but for the life of her she could not recall his name, and felt at odds to ask him for it.

“I remember the wedding almost like it was yesterday.” The bulky pony spoke. “I work at the spa, see? You were so worked up over your own wedding that they called me in to give you that tension massage to relax your muscles.”

“I do remember all that weight being lifted from my shoulders.” Matilda recalled. “That was you, wasn’t it? Mister…?”

“Bulk Biceps, ma’am, but you can just call me Bulk.” He smiled from ear to ear. “It was a busy day for all of us at the spa, not because of the wedding, mind you, but one of the attendees was a giant sea monster! The guy’s not so bad though once you get to know him. His name was Steven Magnet. Funky name for a water dragon, am I right? Did you know that water dragons absorb hundreds of gallons of water through their scales? Neither did I! That’s why we were so busy…” Bulk slack-jawed for a moment and shook himself back into focus. “Oh, but what was I trying to say? That’s right! What really amazed me on that day, the day of the wedding, I mean, was that somehow I was able to use my muscle and special talent to play my part and make sure everything went smoothly for everypony. Gosh, I thought I’d be stuck in the gym doing nothing but lifting weights and screaming at the top of my lungs, but just look at where my talents have gotten me. We all grow up thinking that our cutie marks are meant for one purpose and one purpose only, but they’re not. In reality, we can be so unimaginably flexible with our talents that we can help almost anypony in almost any situation. It’s like having multiple cutie marks, but it’s actually just one cutie mark with a whole lot of secret little talents hidden inside.” Bulk chuckled to himself and completed his speech, grinning to the rest of the ponies who felt courteous enough to smile back his way.

There was a smile upon the yellow pegasus’ face, a knowing grin, and so the timid mare spoke up. “I’ve only ever heard this from a few other ponies before…” Fluttershy began. “But, I hear that some ponies will act as though getting their cutie mark suddenly makes them the most special pony in the world, like they’re some sort of special snowflake, or that their cutie mark might be better than other ponies’ marks. I think neither of those things are true. What I really do believe, and this is just my personal perspective, is that the cutie mark itself is what is special, not the pony. Every single cutie mark is unique in its own way. I know it’s safe to think that this thought is mine and mine alone because it was influenced by no pony else but me.”

“Well, there is a special snowflake out there that I know.” Bulk replied.

“Really, who?” Fluttershy wondered.

“It’s just funny.” Bulk chuckled lightly. “My mother’s name is Snowflake, and your speech reminded me of her. Just thought I’d throw that out there.”

As Bulk blushed bashfully, Fluttershy looked back at him and quietly brushed her mane over her eyes and hid her smile, a small, warm blush forming upon her own face.

“There are no consequences to speaking your mind, no matter what it might be.” Matilda reassured the group. “I believe that tonight we have accomplished making this a suitable environment for everypony to speak their peace. As such, I have arranged a closing statement for all of us to keep in mind until our next meeting. A poem of sorts.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Fluttershy replied delightfully. “I do love to read poems from time to time.”

“This one is based off a famous saying by an unknown writer.” Matilda cleared her throat and began. “There’s a special mark in me that no one else will ever see. When they look through that window, I wonder, what do they see? A friend or a liar? A lover or a hater? A person they might want to meet or a person they never ever wish to be? At the end of the day, it’s a mystery. All I know looking through that glass, all I ever really see, is me.”

After a few moments of silence and quieted applause, the ponies gave their goodbyes and disbanded from the room one by one. Octavia was the last to leave the room behind, a dejected form about her face and a slump to her gait. She wondered not if everything in her future would be alright, but rather if anything, even the smallest and tiniest of things, would ever change.