“Can birds touch the sky?”
“No Melody. The sky cannot be touched by anything. Unless you count the clouds that the pegasi walk on, but apart from that, there is nothing up there to touch.” Rosin sat down on the bed and smoothed out part of the blue comforter.
“How can there be nothing? There has to be something, therefor something has to be able to touch it.” Melody gave Rosin her best you-can't-beat-logic look and hugged her stuffed bear.
“No Melody. Nothing can touch the sky. The sky just keeps on going.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
Her face scrunched up, “Are you sure, sis? Maybe something can touch the sky and we just don’t know it.”
“Impossible. Go to sleep now Melody.” Rosin said kindly and stood to leave.
“Good night sis.” Melody kissed her bear on the head and pulled up the blanket.
“Good night.”
The lights turned off and Rosin's horn lite with a pale purple light illuminating the room as she left. Rosin mentally wished Melody a good night’s rest and pleasant dreams, although she dreamed enough in the daytime to make up for a hundred nights. Touching the sky? That was a new one.
In the living room, Dad looked up as Rosin sat down at her desk again. “Melody asleep?”
“Should be.” Rosin sat down at her desk and picked up a quill before she continued to define 'crescendo' and 'decrescendo' were she had left off. She figured that with these next couple of books she would be able to afford her own house and make her little business more than just publishing her 'Learn to Read Music!' series and teaching private lessons to foals who only came because their parents told them to. She wanted to start writing actual orchestral pieces and start up a school for teaching strings and foals who actually cared about music. With any luck, she could have her dream Rosin's School for Strings up and running smoothly by the start of the next year.
Dad returned most of his attention back to his book. “I saw Melody watching the hummingbirds again today,” he said after a moment of silence.
“Yes. She does that almost every day.” Rosin said without really thinking about it. Melody watched the hummingbirds every time she could.
“Why?”
“She likes them.”
Dad lapsed into silence. It was such a peaceful night. Formless shadows decorated the walls and the only sounds was the scratch of Rosin's quill and the soft rustle of paper from Dad's book. Mom entered from the kitchen with a tea pot. The relaxed quiet was broken by the click of little hooves coming down the hall. Melody appeared. The elder ponies turned to looked at her quizzically.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Dad asked mildly.
Melody ignored him and fixed her bright eyes on Rosin. “I will touch the sky someday. Just to prove that it is possible.” Her tone was defiant and final.
“No. You can’t touch the sky. It is impossible. I’m sorry Melody.” Rosin said, sometimes the ideas that her little sister came up with were astounding.
“I will. I promise. I will do it.” With that she turned and marched back to her room.
The silence returned, almost as if Melody had never appeared.
Mom finally looked up and inquired, “Touch the sky?” She peered at Rosin over the edge of her glasses.
“Yes.” Rosin said with a sigh, “Apparently Melody wants to fly like pegasus.”
The next day Melody was sitting on the porch when Rosin got home from grocery shopping. She wasn’t surprised; Melody's school had let out an hour earlier and watching the hummingbirds made her so happy. She could sit on the porch for hours, just watching. As usual, her eyes were glued to the hummingbird feeders that hung in the front flower bed. For a moment, Rosin just watched her then, sat down next to her.
“Watching the hummingbirds again?” Rosin asked softly, almost afraid to break into Melody's concentration.
“Yeah.” She said slowly.
They were quiet for a while before finally Rosin broke in, “Melody, why do you like watching the hummingbirds?”
Melody looked up with a smile, “Because they're beautiful.” She turned back to the birds, “Look at them! They are like little jewels zipping around. They are so pretty and graceful. They come in so many different colors too. Red, green, black, brown, they're all great.”
Rosin sighed, “Melody, they're competing for the food. You know that don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know. That doesn’t make them any less pretty. Does it?”
Rosin was taken back. When she watched the hummingbirds she saw a war. The shrill, high pitched, angry noises, the fast buzz of their wings and how they formed into little gangs to drive others away from the feeders; what else could one call it but war? “Melody. They are just birds. Nothing special. They're fighting.”
“So? They are fun to watch. Doesn’t it look like they are dancing?”
Rosin sighed again and stood up, “If you say so.” Indoors, Rosin immediately got to work. The very idea that hummingbirds could dance was ridiculous. Rosin started where she left off, explaining the basics of the Blues Scale, and looked over what she had already written. Her books were aimed at an age group a bit older than Melody since that was when foals started being concerned about their cutie marks and experimenting with the arts. A nagging sensation that she always got in the back of her mind when dealing with Melody prickled her thoughts. Why couldn't she ever connect with Melody? They were sisters but even when Melody had been very young, Rosin had been unable to find much in common with her. Melody was extremely interested in music and she had a fabulous ear for tuning but whenever Rosin suggested that she learn an interment, Melody turned her down. Rosin didn't understand it, Melody obviously had the potential to be very good and she could already read music but, she had no interest in actually learning to play anything. Melody hadn't reached the age where she was concerned about her special talent or cutie mark yet but, Rosin had a bad feeling that Melody was going to be a late bloomer. Melody didn't really seem interested in anything but her daydreams and the random ideas that she would come up with. Rosin wanted to be closer to her little sister but she didn't know how to go about connecting with those silly fancies that she came up with.
Rosin looked though the front window at the little blue filly. The hummingbirds zipped about diving to keep each other away from the feeders. Rosin shook her head, she had to focus, she had to finish this chapter on scales and move on to accidentals.
When the light outside was beginning to fade, Melody came in. Mom was cooking dinner and after an hour and a half of Rosin starting at a blank piece of paper she felt like her genius had turned off. She needed inspiration and nothing was coming to her. She massaged her temples wearily and thought about going to one of the Canterlot High School Orchestra Concerts, she had heard that this year's group was very talented. Really, she would have done anything to avoid sitting at this hard chair staring at this relentlessly blank piece of paper.
Just then, Melody tapped on her shoulder, “Sis?” she asked, her voice toneless. Rosin looked at her, mildly alarmed. “Why do you watch the hummys?"
Rosin was flabbergast, “What?”
“Why do you watch the hummys? You asked Rosin earlier and now I am asking you.” Melody looked so serious, her eyes wide and her ears pricked forward.
“I don’t.” Rosin replied simply, trying to avoid from sounding indignant.
“Yes you do. You sat down on the porch today. Why else would you sit down?” She demanded.
“I wanted to sit with you, I didn’t want to watch the hummingbirds.”
For a moment, Melody’s face was unreadable. “Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you want to watch the hummys?”
Rosin shrugged, “I think it's silly. They're just birds after all. They may be fast and colorful, but they are just birds. I don’t want to waste my time watching them when I have other things to do.”
Melody looked at Rosin in disbelief. “It’s not a waste of time.” Her voice suddenly seemed higher.
“You can’t get anything productive done when you are watching hummingbirds. All it really is, is day-dreaming.” Rosin said.
Melody started to turn red, “And spending all of your time writing music theory books is productive? What about all those duets you write? Is that productive?”
Rosin was surprised that Melody could possible see her work as unproductive. Melody was always wandering around with her head in the clouds, so that it seemed like she was on a different planet but still! Rosin was doing exactly what she wanted to do! How could Melody not see that? “What I do is my passion! Of course it's productive! The foals who read my books are learning life skills and I am teaching an art!”
“Right.” Melody said coldly, “What good are you doing though? Duets are nice but hummingbirds are alive.”
Rosin took a deep breath and tried not to let anger creep into her voice. Past experience had taught her that letting Melody know she was mad had never helped these kind of conversations, “At least I am making money and moving up in the world! My books will be top news someday and I am not wasting my time on little animals that can't get along long enough for them to all eat in peace.”
"But, it's not real! Duets never really effect the world! They are nice to listen to while animals and other ponies actually change things!" She snapped.
Rosin shook her head and shifted her mane in an attempt to keep from yelling, "All the little things that make life worth living. Little things like hummingbirds are important but, what I write and how it effects ponies is more so!"
“How? How is that any more important than something that is real?" Melody's voice sounded tight now, her face was pinched and she looked close to tears.
"I thought you cared about music!" Rosin was struggling to keep her voice level.
"I do but, there is more to life than music. I want to make music too but I want to see everything that other ponies miss, all the little things. Other ponies, friends, animals, are more important than music!"
"Music is my life!"
Melody seemed to want to say more but just stared at Rosin, then, mutely, she turned and left. There were no tears. She didn't go to Dad. She didn't even try to apologize later. In fact, Melody did not speak to Rosin for the rest of the day. Or the next morning.
The next time Melody did speak to Rosin, she had just gotten home and there were tears. Melody was hunched over in the garden. As Rosin approached, she saw the little body. The neighbor’s cat had somehow caught one of Melody's hummingbirds. Melody had gotten off of school moments before to find the cat had been torturing the little bird. It was one of the red ones. The little bird was shivering and shaking on the ground in front of Melody. One of it’s wings was at an odd, unnatural angle.
“What do we do?” Melody sobbed, face streaked with tears. “Can we take it to the vet?”
Rosin leaned down next to Melody. “I, um" Rosin could see the stained grass and it didn't seem possible that the bird would live. She
gently took Melody and tried to bring her away so she could put the little bird out of it’s misery, but Melody fought and tried to pick the hummingbird up in her weak magic, she held it steady with stretch uncommon in unicorns her age but she held it with care, like it was glass.
“Melody!” Rosin called after her but, she was too late to stop Melody from carrying the bird out of the yard and hurrying up the street. “Melody! Wait!" Rosin shouted, as she raced after the filly. Melody didn’t know where the veterinarian’s office was. Furthermore, her sudden burst of magic couldn't last long and was probably fueled by desperation.
It was easy to catch up to the weeping filly and Rosin gently took the hummingbird into her own magic and led Melody home. They brought the bird inside and put it under a heat lamp. Melody refused to leave the shivering little thing. She sat looking at it intently, as though her gaze could heal it. Rosin made her cup of hot chocolate, and made her promise not to leave or touch it.
Rosin ran into the street and started to where the veterinarian's office was, the doctor was out but a nurse agreed to come with her to see the little bird. Rosin and the nurse ran through the streets. Back in the kitchen, Melody still sat motionless starting at the bird. The nurse took one look at the little body and shook her head.
Rosin and the nurses stepped away from the filly, "What can you do?" Rosin struggled to keep her voice level.
“I can put it to sleep.” The nurse said softly.
Rosin nodded, "Let me talk with my sister a moment, do you want to go get what you need?"
The nurse nodded her consent and turned to head back to the veterinary office at a slower pace. Rosin watched her go before turning to face the filly. Rosin swallowed and walked up to her, gently tapping her and sitting down.
"Hey."
Melody looked at Rosin briefly before turning her gaze back to the bird, "What can the nurse do for him?"
Rosin pulled Melody into a hug, "I'm sorry but all she can do is put it." Rosin coughed, "him out of his pain."
"That's good, I don't want him to hurt" .Melody said in monotone.
"She is going to put him to sleep"
Melody started to cry again and buried her face in Rosin's shoulder. "I don't want him to hurt anymore" she sobbed.
"I know, he won't." Rosin stroked Melody's head and together they waited.
When the nurse retuned, Melody watched silently. Rosin watched Melody and thanked the nurse when the hummingbird's breath had come to a stop.
"Are you okay?" Rosin asked Melody softly.
Melody looked at Rosin for a moment then down at the still hummingbird, “Okay.” She said in a small voice. “I want to bury it.”
“Do you want me to help you dig a hole?" Rosin's tone was carefully and gentle.
“No.”
The hole Melody had dug was too wide and not deep enough. Rosin sent her to collect some rocks for on top of the grave and when Melody wasn’t looking, she dug a bit more. They buried the bird in silence.
Rosin glanced at Melody, “Do you want to say something?”
Melody looked at the grave. “No.” She said, finally. Then she turned away and went inside. Rosin trailed after her, but the filly pointedly went to her room and shut the door.
Rosin was at a loss, unsure how to help Melody but desperate to make her feel better. Rosin's gaze traveled around the living room, Dad's books, Mom's knitting and her desk littered with paper. None of it could help.
Rosin made more hot chocolate and brought it up to Melody. She was laying face-down on her bed. Her bear had been tossed carelessly to the floor. Rosin picked up the bear and sat down next to her, stroking her mane. Finally Melody sat up. Her face was streaked with tears again. When Rosin offered her the bear, she took it and hugged it.
“Is it wrong to see the hummingbirds as dancers?” She asked.
Rosin winced and looked at the bed spread, “It isn’t wrong, no.”
“Is it right?” She asked.
“Well,” Rosin sighed, “I don’t know. I don’t think that it is right or wrong.” Rosin stroked Melody’s head absently, “I try to see the world as realistically as possible. You dream more and see beauty in things I find mundane. I think that when something bad happens, it hurts you more than me but, in general, you seem to be happier than me. You seem to enjoy life more but, I think that I am more productive than you are.” Rosin shrugged and tried to smile, “I think that it is just two different ways of seeing the world. You do whatever works for you, okay?”
Melody looked at Rosin for a moment. “Okay. If you say so.” Despite her puffy cheeks, her face was blank and her voice monotone.
Rosin hugged her, “Please, don’t change. Please don’t let this get in the way of your doing what you enjoy. Keep watching the hummingbirds, Melody. Things like this just happen sometimes and there is nothing we can do about it.”
Melody buried her face in Rosin's shoulder and gave a strangled sobbed. Rosin felt her own pain starting to leak from her eyes. They sat hugging each other and crying together. Desperately grasping at the other’s ideas and trying to see the world through the sisters' eyes.
When Melody cried herself to sleep, Rosin left her and walked through the silent house. Outside, the sun was going down and it made everything inside dark and strangely lifeless. Rosin went to her desk, sheet music for an brass arrangement covered it. Her eyes followed the notes, the tune playing itself in her head sounded eerie like it was missing something. Rosin turned away, the few measures she had looked at played in her mind as went out onto the porch and sat down to wait for Dad. Rosin's restless eyes looked around darkening yard. The hummingbirds had disappeared for the night, but the fading sun made the flowers glow and a breeze whispered softly through the trees. Rosin breathed in the crisp air that the night brought. The stress, the fear, the anger, all of it melted away, leaving her feeling numb. She thought that she understood now. Seeing the hummingbird-- no, Melody called them hummys. Seeing the hummys as dancers wasn't wrong. Seeing things the way they really where wasn't wrong either. Would it be so bad for Rosin to try to live her life somewhere in the middle? Is dreaming a little really so bad? After all, her school for strings was only a dream. Maybe working so hard, seeing nothing but her work had clouded her vision. She dreamed all the time too. Constantly, it was a dream that pushed her on. Seeing the real, the present, the now was just as important as working for the future.
For the first time in ages, Rosin looked up and watched the sinking sun. It looked like a great painting, filling up the sky. The sun's dying rays were fire, licking up at the clouds. The first stars had appeared and now shone as brightly as little fireflies against a dark purple canvas. Had she ever seen any of that before? She knew she had seen sunsets before but had she really? Had she watched the sun fight to avoid the darkness? Had she truly witnessed the quilt of stars fill the sky? No. Rosin had seen but not watched. She had seen the Summer Sun Celebration, felt the power and majesty of it all, and somehow right here in the garden seemed more alive. Rosin sat down on the porch and gazed at the world around her. Hummys were dancers, with a dance that no pony could ever hope to understand. All a pony could do is
watch and enjoy, if they chose.
Rosin stood and breathed deeply, "Melody will touch the sky someday. I know because I will help her." Rosin felt foolish, talking out loud to the night, but she grinned, "I promise."
Author's Note
Beautiful things don't ask for attention - James Thurber
My first pony oneshot! I hope you liked it! Conventional criticism is appreciated!