The Rainbow That Never Was

The small freckled pony sat, staring longingly out of her window. She stared as if the simple act of hoping could give her a sign, that it could tell her what to do. She remembered her family back in Ponyville; She lived with her granny and her big brother, her parents were hardly around anymore. For that matter though, she wasn’t around either, as she was living with her aunt and uncle in Manehatten. At first, she’d loved the big city, living with her relatives. As time passed by though, she’d begun to regret leaving her home behind, and she began to wonder about her family. The Oranges lived the high class life, there was no doubt about that, but something just wasn’t there for her.

Applejack gave the long off town one last wistful glance, before she turned around and plodded away from the painful sight. She knew she’d adapt to the city life, eventually, but she had no idea how long that might take. Right now, she just wanted to see her family again, back at good old Sweet Apple Acres. She’d made a decision though, and she didn’t have the heart to tell her aunt and uncle she wanted to go back without a good reason.

“Applejack dear, you should start getting ready for the opera tonight.” She could hear her aunt’s voice ring throughout the residence, and she gave another heavy sigh.

“Ah’ll be re- I mean, I’ll be ready in just a bit.” She managed to catch herself. With a heavy heart, she trotted over to her dresser, picking out a simple green dress. She had to admit, as hard as it was to get used to ‘fancy talk’ and not being around her family, her aunt and uncle were kind, and very generous, just not quite in the way she was used to. Applejack rambled to herself as she touched up in her bedside mirror, “This was always mah dream.... I can’t let these first impressions scare me away.” She sounded unsure, as if she was trying to convince herself that what she was saying was true.

“Hurry up Applejack, or we’ll be late!” That was her uncle calling. She turned her back on the mirror, walking to the door of her room. She glanced back over her shoulder one last time, at the sun glinting off of Ponyville, before she turned her back on it, forever.

    It had been a hard day on the rock farm, and it was as quiet as death. Pinkamena Diane Pie hated every day that she spent like this; it was silent, joyless work. She blew a stray strand of straight hair out of her eyes as she walked back towards the small shack that her family called a home. She wasn’t totally sure what they were having for dinner today, but she could guess it involved rocks. It was always rocks with her family, rock stew, rock steak, rock toys, rock powered lights. She’d actually always wondered how that last one worked, as they didn’t farm any kind of coal.

    Pinkamena almost bumped right into her father as she considered how to get energy from solid granite. He was just leaving the shack to go into the silo, probably to get some rocks to make dinner with. “Hey da-” was as far as she got before he shushed her. She always hoped that one day, somepony would come and tell her that the no talking rule was all a big, horrible prank. Not surprisingly, nopony ever did.

    Just a half hour later, her family was seated around the table, a “hearty” rock stew sitting in the center of the table. Before she could halfheartedly dish up a bowl for herself, Pinkamena’s father cleared his throat. ‘Is it finally time to talk? Is the silence finally over?’ Question’s raced through the filly’s head, her father spoke. “Pinkamena. I think it’s time your mother and I tell you something.” The sound of a voice was music to her ears, although her happiness was doused by what came next. “We’re going to be handing the farm over to you, someday soon.” Pinkamena’s face fell, although her parents seemed not to notice. This farm had been her prison for the last ten years of her life, and they wanted to keep her here forever? She wouldn’t stand for it. She listened to her father go on and on about what kind of responsibilities she’d have, but really, she wasn’t listening. She was planning.

    After her father’s speech, the no talking rule had been reinstated, and after dinner was over, everyone went to bed, as per usual. ‘At least these aren’t made of rocks’ Pinkiamena thought as she lay awake on her bed, waiting for everypony else to be asleep. ‘Not so silent now, is it?’ The snores of her family were creating a quiet drone though the house as she slid like a pink shadow out of her bed. She crept towards the window, wincing as a floorboard creaked underhoof. She let out a sigh of relief as the snores continued, gathering herself before unlatching the window and throwing herself up onto the threshold. She gazed back with a tear in her eye as she thought of her sisters, who she cared for so dearly. Her head shook violently as she pushed the thought from her mind, turning back to the outdoors. ‘I can’t take them with me. from here on out, I’m on my own.’ A single drop could be heard splashing against the packed dirt outside as Pinkamena dropped from the window.

The small white unicorn stumbled as she walked back through the front door of her home. She’d been walking for over a day, ever since her horn had taken her to that rock. “Dumb rock...” She muttered under her breath as she went to inspect the costumes she had been making. Rarity knew they were lacking something, but she couldn’t put her hoof on what exactly it was. “It couldn’t be... rocks?.... No, of course not.”

Late into the night, Rarity slaved over the costumes for the school play. No matter what, she could never seem to get it to be quite as good as she wanted. “It just doesn’t have that certain flair...” She whined to herself, pulling the materials apart again, getting back to exactly where she had started. There had to be something they were missing, but she was still at a total loss to what it could be.

Rarity revisited her original plans, looking over them again. She examined each pattern in great detail, and realized something. These designs were all so simple, it was almost painful for her to look at now that she noticed it. She’d tried to cover up the simplicity by tacking on fancy stitches and random odds and ends, but it did little to hide the simplicity to the trained eye. “These outfits would have to be coated in gems just to make them look good!” Rarity exclaimed with a small amount of shock. That was it. A total redesign was needed, and it was needed tonight.

She set to work once more, tossing aside her old patterns and pulling up completely new pieces of paper to start over with. With gentle strokes of her pen she quickly had a basic outline, constructed of elegant swoops and complex stitching. When she was finished, she stepped back to take a breather, preparing herself for the steps to come. “Alright Rarity, you’re past the hard part, now there’s just assembly.” Her voice wavered as she said the word, but the determined look on her face stayed. The room quickly became a terrific storm of cloth and needles, a wild flurry of order and form flying around the small pony at it’s center.

Rarity exerted more magic power than she had ever before, knowing the costumes had to be ready the next day for rehearsals. The room glowed with magic as fabric was cut to size and laid onto mannequins, slowly but surely forming into distinct shapes. The costume that had originally been nothing but a flower petal around the head of a small filly was transformed into a complex outfit, with a series of vines and leaves branching off of the back, and a blossom real enough to trick a bee.

As the pieces fell into place like those of a majestic jigsaw puzzle, needle and thread came to the forefront of the creative symphony. The needles gracefully sewed along the seams of the outfits around the room, each stitch coming faster than the last. The haphazard pieces of cloth pulled towards each other, forming outfits that some of the best designers in Equestria would’ve had to stop and take a peek at.

The final stitches fell into place after some time; to Rarity it could’ve been ten minutes, or ten hours. All she knew was that she was done. She also knew she was tired, Oh so tired. So tired, in fact, that she passed out, right then and there. Floating snippets of cloth floated gently to the floor, contrasted by the flurry of tools that dropped with a clatter, turning the floor into a minefield of sharp and breakable objects. The outfits were marvelous, standing out as a pillar of order in the grime of a mess. They were everything that could’ve been asked for, and more.