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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
The Poetry of Politics
Pony after pony trotted past Twilight, and so far, roughly a third had taken a flyer. That met expectations. Whenever she’d stood out here promoting a get-together, she’d kept careful statistics on how many ponies grabbed one, and at the current rate, she’d only have four extras. Outstanding!
“Mayor Mare!” she called, flagging her down with one of the sheets. “Care to attend a poetry reading at the library tonight?”
Twilight froze. Had she seen that right? Probably the biggest grin she’d ever witnessed from the mayor, but for less than a half-second. Just as quickly, it fled, leaving Mayor Mare staring at the ground as if her heirloom necklace had fallen down the storm drain.
“No. No, I—”
“But you always attend community events,” Twilight said. The mayor shook her head, mouthed something silently and trotted off. By the time Twilight could tear her gaze away from her, she’d fallen well behind pace—an excess of twelve now!
She barely registered Pinkie bouncing along, but shoved the stack at her. “Here, Pinkie. Could you give these out?” She started after the mayor and could almost ignore the shouting.
“Who needs paper!? C’mon, everypony, get your paper here! It even has something about poetry on it!”
Twilight crept around the hallway’s corner to find the mayor’s office door ajar. Inside, she sat at her desk with some paperwork propped up, but her gaze rested below it.
While Twilight watched, Mayor Mare closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. So Twilight knocked, softly at first. But no response, so she knocked a bit louder, and the mayor’s body jerked. All businesslike at first, but as before, she looked down at something precious, lost far beneath the floorboards.
“I thought you might show up, but not so soon,” the mayor said.
Twilight took a seat and waited. The obvious question—but then it’d be obvious to both of them. So she waited some more.
“Twilight,” she finally said. “How much do you know about Ponyville history?”
Twilight had just finished a book on that very subject. “Well, when the Apple family—”
“More recent.” The mayor sighed. “Probably too recent for books.”
With a squint, Twilight leaned forward. “What happened?” she said quietly.
Mayor Mare took a deep breath. “Have you noticed how most mayors are unicorns? Even in towns where there aren’t many living there? There are exceptions, but…”
She swiveled in her chair to face the window. “Have you ever had to choose the best of a bunch of bad options?”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Ponyville’s not that—”
“I don’t mean that. Have you ever had to do something because nopony else wanted to, because you’d rather have a known quantity than roll the dice?” Her chair’s springs protested loudly as she leaned back. “Nopony signed up to run for mayor. Canterlot stepped in and was about to appoint somepony from San Franciscolt, who knew nothing about the area, our uniquely blended population, the needs of a rural town... “
“But… your cutie mark…”
The mayor nodded. “There used to be more to it. The scroll unfurled a little, some words visible…” She took on a dreamy smile and spoke softly. “Once, when in these woods, the stream threw her voice and led me down paths rocky with promise, overgrown with heart—I sat in her embrace, and I lived. I lived with all that lived around me, and…”
Something etched deep in her memory, not spontaneous.
“You… were a poet?” A smile curled Twilight’s lips.
Mayor Mare nodded again. “But the scroll wound up over time, and if I go back now…”
“I don’t think it works that way—” Twilight frowned.
“It’s my cutie mark.”
Twilight bit her lip. “Well… look at Rarity. Hers helps her find gems, but she’s still a talented dressmaker. You can do both.”
“No,” the mayor answered, tapping a hoof on her desk, “too risky. If I couldn’t do this job anymore…”
Twilight walked around the desk and put a hoof on her shoulder. “Please. Will you try? I think it’s just what you need. Cutie marks aren’t about sacrificing your passion. They’re about finding it. All of it.”
“I don’t know…”
Twilight stood just offstage and wore a broad grin. There, at the microphone, Mayor Mare, with a hint of a loose end dangling from the scroll and her eyes closed. Not all stiff, like at a council meeting, but… relaxing in the forest, maybe. And Twilight listened.
“Once, when in these woods…”
“Mayor Mare!” she called, flagging her down with one of the sheets. “Care to attend a poetry reading at the library tonight?”
Twilight froze. Had she seen that right? Probably the biggest grin she’d ever witnessed from the mayor, but for less than a half-second. Just as quickly, it fled, leaving Mayor Mare staring at the ground as if her heirloom necklace had fallen down the storm drain.
“No. No, I—”
“But you always attend community events,” Twilight said. The mayor shook her head, mouthed something silently and trotted off. By the time Twilight could tear her gaze away from her, she’d fallen well behind pace—an excess of twelve now!
She barely registered Pinkie bouncing along, but shoved the stack at her. “Here, Pinkie. Could you give these out?” She started after the mayor and could almost ignore the shouting.
“Who needs paper!? C’mon, everypony, get your paper here! It even has something about poetry on it!”
Twilight crept around the hallway’s corner to find the mayor’s office door ajar. Inside, she sat at her desk with some paperwork propped up, but her gaze rested below it.
While Twilight watched, Mayor Mare closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. So Twilight knocked, softly at first. But no response, so she knocked a bit louder, and the mayor’s body jerked. All businesslike at first, but as before, she looked down at something precious, lost far beneath the floorboards.
“I thought you might show up, but not so soon,” the mayor said.
Twilight took a seat and waited. The obvious question—but then it’d be obvious to both of them. So she waited some more.
“Twilight,” she finally said. “How much do you know about Ponyville history?”
Twilight had just finished a book on that very subject. “Well, when the Apple family—”
“More recent.” The mayor sighed. “Probably too recent for books.”
With a squint, Twilight leaned forward. “What happened?” she said quietly.
Mayor Mare took a deep breath. “Have you noticed how most mayors are unicorns? Even in towns where there aren’t many living there? There are exceptions, but…”
She swiveled in her chair to face the window. “Have you ever had to choose the best of a bunch of bad options?”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Ponyville’s not that—”
“I don’t mean that. Have you ever had to do something because nopony else wanted to, because you’d rather have a known quantity than roll the dice?” Her chair’s springs protested loudly as she leaned back. “Nopony signed up to run for mayor. Canterlot stepped in and was about to appoint somepony from San Franciscolt, who knew nothing about the area, our uniquely blended population, the needs of a rural town... “
“But… your cutie mark…”
The mayor nodded. “There used to be more to it. The scroll unfurled a little, some words visible…” She took on a dreamy smile and spoke softly. “Once, when in these woods, the stream threw her voice and led me down paths rocky with promise, overgrown with heart—I sat in her embrace, and I lived. I lived with all that lived around me, and…”
Something etched deep in her memory, not spontaneous.
“You… were a poet?” A smile curled Twilight’s lips.
Mayor Mare nodded again. “But the scroll wound up over time, and if I go back now…”
“I don’t think it works that way—” Twilight frowned.
“It’s my cutie mark.”
Twilight bit her lip. “Well… look at Rarity. Hers helps her find gems, but she’s still a talented dressmaker. You can do both.”
“No,” the mayor answered, tapping a hoof on her desk, “too risky. If I couldn’t do this job anymore…”
Twilight walked around the desk and put a hoof on her shoulder. “Please. Will you try? I think it’s just what you need. Cutie marks aren’t about sacrificing your passion. They’re about finding it. All of it.”
“I don’t know…”
Twilight stood just offstage and wore a broad grin. There, at the microphone, Mayor Mare, with a hint of a loose end dangling from the scroll and her eyes closed. Not all stiff, like at a council meeting, but… relaxing in the forest, maybe. And Twilight listened.
“Once, when in these woods…”