On The Cliff's Edge

It was two o'clock on a stiflingly warm June afternoon in the town of Elmwood, and for a certain pony named Bronze Ribbon, it was also the day in which she waited two hours longer than she should have had to for the local mailmare to deliver her bills.

Bronze Ribbon, considered by many to be somewhat unattractive, was a short, stubby mare with narrow brown eyes that reminded many of her neighbors of particularly vile mud, and a matted, unwashed coat of light bronze coloration.

Contrasting her dreary body was an almost surreal shining silver necklace that seemed as if it was disconnected from the myriad troubles of its owner. A tiny sapphire hung from the necklace, reflecting the light from the sun into Bronze's eyes, forcing her to squint in order to avoid being blinded by the brilliant shine.

Her mane, or rather, what little of it remained after a recent explosive "prank" gone wrong, was beige colored, where it wasn't the color of charcoal. Her cutie marks were a pair of architectural manuals that indicated her now-unused special talent.

The mare paced irritably in front of her primitive camping tent, where she had been sleeping for the last two weeks ever since her actual house had been leveled by the aforementioned "prank" gone wrong, an annoyed scowl on her scarred face.

"Where is that mare?" Bronze yelled, to nopony in particular. She looked around, as if the mailmare was going to pop out of the bush at any moment and yell "April Fools!".

Bronze sighed after a moment and lay down on the uncomfortable bed of gravel that lay outside her tent. She looked down sadly at the rocks.

"Well, at least it can't get any worse." Bronze muttered. Immediately, her eyes widened as she realized the gravity of what she had said. Her head shot up and her eyes darted around furiously, waiting for something terrible to happen that would make her situation even worse somehow.

Nothing happened.

A bitter smile appeared on her parched lips and faded less than a second after.

"I guess it really can't get any worse for me." she muttered under her breath as her eyes began to close, ever so slowly.

Bronze Ribbon awoke to a soft nudge on her side. Slowly, her eyes opened and she looked up drearily. The figure of a mare stood above her, silhouetted by the lack of any light. "Who.. ugh.." Bronze mumbled as pain shot up her back.

"Mrs. Ribbon, is it?" the mare asked in a bored sounding Trottingham accent, not bothering to look Bronze in the eyes.

"I'm just Ms. Ribbon now. My partner is, um, well, not around anymore." Bronze said quietly.

"Ah. Ms. Ribbon, then. I have a package for you that I need you to sign." the mare replied apathetically.

"Package?" Bronze repeated. "I didn't order any packages."

"Not my problem. Sign the package." the mare ordered, handing Bronze a small writing quill and paper.

The down-on-her-luck mare looked at the paper for a moment, then shakily wrote down her name in large, clumsy letters.

"Very good. Have a nice day, Ms. Ribbon." the mare said in a tone that made it quite clear how little she felt for the pitiful pony groaning on the ground in front of her, before depositing the box in front of the homeless mare and plodding away into the cool summer night.

Bronze looked at the small cardboard box that lay in front of her. On the side, a small post-it note lay with the words, "To Bronze Ribbon of Elmwood" written in cursive upon it.

Curious at who would have possibly sent her a package, Bronze bit down on the cardboard and slowly began ripping off a sizable chunk of the side with her rotted teeth.

When she had bitten enough of the box away, she carefully picked up the content and brought it up to her eye.

It was a small chest, no bigger than her head, made of a ceramic material that reflected Bronze's perplexed face. On the top, etched in bronze, was a small symbol of a planet being orbited by an array of differently-shaped gemstones. Below the symbol read the words, "Ministry of Rehabilitation."

Slowly, Bronze nudged open the chest's lid with her nose. Inside, there lay a picture of a smiling unicorn stallion garbed in a white suit and tie, laying within a simple wooden frame. Puzzled, the mare picked up the picture.

"Why would somepony have sent me this?" she wondered.

As she spoke, a burst of energy emanated from the picture, knocking the mare backwards several feet onto her head. Bronze let out a yelp of surprise and rubbed her injured scalp.

"Hello? Ms. Ribbon, are you there?" a voice called, seeming to echo as if the speaker was yelling through a megaphone.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm here." Bronze groaned a little as she steadied herself, briefly glancing at her neck to make sure the necklace had not been blown away by the burst. "Wait, who are you?" she said as she looked around for the source of the voice.

"Where are you?" she added.

"Down here." the voice replied. Bronze looked down. The picture lay at her hooves, with the same image of the stallion smiling on its cover. Except now, the stallion was breathing and blinking as if he was alive, and not just a still image.

"You're a picture? But how can you talk?" Bronze asked incredulously.

"I'm not actually a picture, I'm merely communicating with you through magic. Things have been really busy here in Canterlot, and I'm afraid I wasn't able to come and meet you face-to-face." the image replied.

"You're from Canterlot? What could a stallion from the big city possibly want with a lackluster mare like myself?" Bronze asked, her tone bitter as she pawed the gravel in front of her restlessly.

"Well, Ms. Ribbon, I have contacted you because you qualify for the Celestia-Fancypants Disenfranchised Rehabilitation Act." the stallion replied.

Bronze stared at him, not understanding.

"Ah, right. I'll have to tone this down for a simpleton such as yourself." the stallion replied, irritation creeping into his voice.

"The powers that be in Canterlot have recently mandated that all ponies in Equestria below a certain level of income and living standards qualify to be rehabilitated, as in being educated and fed until they can return to society as successful and productive workers." the stallion said these words slowly and deliberately, as if he was talking to a small filly as opposed to the adult mare who stared at him indignantly, her cheeks red with anger at the stallion's remarks.

"Do you understand now, or do I have to dumb it down even further?" the stallion asked scathingly.

Bronze Ribbon let out a guttural growl and spat on the picture. "I understand, you snobbish little prick. Now leave me alone, I don't want any part of your stupid rehabilitation act! I'm fine on my own!"

"Oh, are you now? You lost your house, your job.. Oh, and that's right, that useless waste of space you called a partner!" the stallion smiled smugly as Bronze's cheeks reddened in ever-increasing rage.

Bronze roared in fury and stomped with all of her primordial might on the picture, shattering the wood frame into a mess of splinters. The picture fell to the ground, the smiling stallion once again inert. Her rage not yet sated, Bronze began to tear apart the image with her teeth until it lay in shreds at her hooves.

As she looked down at the picture shreds, she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. That stallion had known about what had happened to her partner, and he had used it to attack her personally.

Bronze's legs wobbled and she sank to the ground, quietly sniffling in the cool night air.

"Why is the world so determined to hurt me?" she whimpered mournfully, not for the first time, as she stared up at the pitiless night sky.

"Maybe it's because you're so easy to hurt." a voice spoke from behind her.

Before Bronze had any chance to act, she felt a sharp burst of pain emanate from the back of her head, and darkness prevailed.