True Lyra

by inacti

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Lyra, Bon-Bon
Length: 2551

Lyn, a young girl living in Manhatten falls into a mirror and changes her world as well of that of a pony named BonBon forever.

Lyn was a girl living Manhattan, her passion was playing the lyre. But, when Lyn got fired from her job working in the orchestra she felt that she had lost everything. She was forced to take a job in a local antique shop. Her work there was dull and empty, but one day she discovered a mirror in the back of the storage room. And as the girl moved the mirror across the store, she dropped it, falling into the mirror itself. She awoke in a small room with a locked door, discovering that she wasn't Lyn anymore, something was different, something odd, where were her hands?

I am aware the chapters run short, I just write short chapters, you're still getting the same content, just in small doses.

Published 2013-09-04 03:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-29 20:58:55 UTC

Chapter One: Lyrical Disharmony

Lyn slammed her diary shut and tossed it aside. She stood up from her chair to look at the clock that hung from the wall, crooked, yet in splendor. Upon seeing the time emblazoned on it's front, she let out a scream and started running around the room frantically.

"Where is my Lyre?! I need to find it!" she screeched angrily as she dug through the heaps of junk that lined the perimeter of her bedroom.

In her panic, she saw the lyre glisten from the closet shelf. She held it close to her chest and sighed with relief. She had a tendency to go crazy even when she had the stuff she needed in all of the right places. The phone rang loudly from the back of the room.

She set her lyre down on the floor and rushed over to the phone. "Talk to me," she said huffily. She had less than an hour to get to the performance.

"Hi Lyn, it's Bonnie, your sister. Where are you? The concert is in fifteen minutes!" the voice on the other end said.

"Bonnie? Did you say . . . fifteen minutes?" Lyn asked softly, her voice a mere squeak.

"Oh no . . . Lyn, did you forget to fix your clock? You know what, no matter, I'll pick you up."

Lyn barely had time to squeak out 'No thanks' before dropping the phone and running out the door, lyre in hand. Lyn was nearly in tears. She had been told strictly if she missed any more performances, she'd be fired on the spot. She fished around in her purse for her keys, almost tripping in her half-way-on shoes.

"Where are they?! Dammit! I need my keys, I'm going to be late!" Lyn sobbed.

She groped around her purse some more, feeling something hard and metal. "Aha!" She grabbed her keys and ran to her car as fast as she possibly could.

She pulled her car out of the driveway and sped off toward the university she'd be playing at. She listened to the sound of her tires screeching against the pavement.

"Come on, come on, come on, five minutes left . . ." Lyn whispered as she drove. The university wasn't that far away.

She pressed the pedal farther as she drove, the speed limit far below the speed at which she was moving. She jolted forward as the beeps and buzzes of a police car drifted from behind her. She pulled herself to one side and halted. She wasn't going to make it.

"Miss, are you aware that you were speeding?" the officer asked, stepping up to her window.

Meanwhile, Bonnie stood at the gate to the university, staring at her wrist watch. A loud voice sounded over her tapping foot.

"Now, we'd like to welcome, Lynell Harsri!"

"Oh no . . ." Bonnie whispered. "Lyn!"

"It appears that Lynell Harsri isn't here . . ."

Bonnie sighed. "Oh Lyn . . . where are you?"

She paced back and forth, just as a dark gray car pulled into the nearest parking space.

"Bonnie! How late am I?"  Lyn called from her car.

"You missed your solo Lyn . . . I'm sorry . . ." Bonnie whispered.

"What?!" The utter devastation that filled every centimeter of her body finally came collapsing down on her head.

"I'm sorry Lyn, I really am . . ."

"Oh Bon, what am I going to do?" Lyn hugged her sister, letting out heaving sobs as she did.

"We'll wait until the concert is over, and then, maybe I can convince them not to fire you," Bonnie whispered.

"But Bon! He said I'd be fired!"

"It's okay Lyn. If he fires you, you can take the job at the pawn shop across the street from my house."

"Oh-okay Bonnie . . ."

"Ah, there's Mr. Burlini now. Let's talk to him."

"Lynell! You missed your performance AGAIN!" Mr. Burlini screamed.

"I'm sorry Mr. B, I really am. I-" Lyn started.

"You're fired. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I cannot afford any more of my concerts being ruined."

"I . . . no . . ." Lyn buried her head in her arms, dropping her lyre on the ground. It smashed to pieces with a loud clatter.

"Goodbye Lynell. And to you, too, Bonnie. Have a nice afternoon," Mr. Burlini said firmly, walking away.

Lyn collapsed into her sister's arms and sobbed heavily.

"What am I going to do? What am I going to do, Bons?" Lyn heaved.

"Listen Lyn. You are not ruined because some guy fires you," Bonnie lifted her sister up. "You will be fine. I'll help you find a new job, and while we look, you can work at the antique shop with me."

Lyn nodded slowly and dusted herself off. "Okay Bonnie, I will work in your shop. But then I am going to get my job back!"

"All right Lyn, I understand. Now, why don't you follow me to my house and you can stay there tonight? I don't want you home alone right now."

"Okay Bonnie, I'll follow you . . . I promise," Lynell forced a smile.

Bonnie smiled at her sister and bent down to pick up the pieces of Lyn's lyre, hardly held together by tangled strings. She walked wordlessly to her car, her curly red hair bouncing as she went. Lyn followed, stepping into her own car. She had never been so devastated in her life. The crushing pain of losing the best job she had ever had was closing in on all sides. She positioned herself in the front seat of her car, slamming the door and turning the key roughly.

When Lyn stopped her car in front of her adopted sister's house, she sighed. She knew she would be up all night staring at her lyre on the floor next to her. She opened her car door slowly to see Bonnie holding up a small bag.

"Hey Lyn! I need to drop off these candies at the shop. You know, for customers. Want to come and take a look around?"

Lyn crossed her arms and sighed. "Fine Bons, I'll come along!" she screamed across the lawn.

Bonnie grinned and crossed the street, holding her bag of freshly made candy in one hand and the lyre in the other. Lyn followed reluctantly. The antique shop had been one of Bonnie's many passions ever since she had lost the sweet shop last winter to a fire. Lyn felt bad for Bonnie. She had lost everything, too, but she still managed to keep her chin up. Even her friend Pamela, a baker from another city, hadn't been able to cheer her up for the first few days, but Bonnie had managed to get back on her feet. Lyn knew her sister had a lot of friends, but honestly, with so many she had thought Bonnie would have found a new shop rather than settling for this assistant manager job in a small antique shop.

She stood in the doorway to the Quinn and Scott Antique Shop, waiting for Lyn to be by her side. "Cheer up Lyn, I bet Scott will be willing to help you."

Lyn shrugged and followed Bon into the shop. "Listen Bonnie, I don't know about this. I just-"

"Well, if it isn't Bonnie! You missed a great sale, we sold that old couch that's been in the back for as long as I can remember! And who's that with you?" an older man asked from the back of the shop.

"Hey Scott, it's just me and my sis. You remember Lyn, right?"

"How could I forget Lyn? Her music was just what I needed for that sale, but shouldn't she be at the conce-"

Bonnie cut him off, jerking her hand back and forth and shaking her head.

"It's okay Bons, you can tell him . . ." Lyn sighed.

"That's why I'm here. Lyni here got fired, and she needs a job while she gets back on her feet," Bonnie said, blushing softly.

"Oh my! Of course, I need somebody to keep track of stock," Scott gaped.

"Thanks. I brought the candy, too," Bonnie smiled, dumping the blue and yellow wrapped sweets in the candy jar at the front desk.

"Lyn, since you're new, how about I show you around while Bonnie mans the front desk?" Scott asked.

"Okay . . ." Lynell followed Scott to the back room for instruction. "Hey Scott, I was wondering, what ever happened to Quinn?"

Scott turned and made a face somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "He was my business partner, but he decided to quit."

"Oh, I'm sorry . . ." Lyn sighed. "I guess nobody working here has their other half anymore . . ."

"Guess not. You lost your lyre, Bonnie lost her shop, I lost my best friend. I guess Q & S is the place where dreams go to die . . . But I still have this old place, and this is my passion."

"Mmhmm, I wish I could say the same."

"Ah, you'll like this old bird soon enough. Everyone reaches a bumpy road now and again."

"I sure hope you're right . . ." Lyn sighed.

A loud ding from the bell at the front door alerted Scott. "Sorry Lyn, let me just go see who that is." Scott crossed his fingers. Ever since his partner left, he had always checked to see if he would come back.

"Um . . . okay . . . I'll just look around," Lyn whispered, tears still fresh in her eyes.

Later that night . . .

Lyn held her Lyre close to her chest, Bonnie sitting on the bed next to her.

"Listen Lyn, I found an opening in-" Bonnie began.

"No."

"What?"

"No. I want you to sell it at the shop."

"Sell? Sell what?"

"My lyre. Sell it."

"Wh-why?"

"It's not my talent. I obviously can't use it. If I'm not good enough for the orchestra, I'm not good enough to play at all," Lyn sobbed, dropping her somewhat-restored lyre onto the side of the bed. "It's worthless to me."

"Lyn! You're amazing! I love you, and you need to understand that you are good enough! He didn't know what he was talking about!"

"Sure . . . Please Bons, just sell it. I don't want to play anymore."

"Lyn . . ."

"Take it." Lyn demanded, placing the lyre into Bonnie's hands.

"Lyn . . . I don't think . . . I can do that . . ." She moved her eyes up and down the hardly functioning instrument.

"Fine! I'll take it over myself!" Lynell stood up, yanking the lyre out of her sister's hands. She glared at her sister and marched out of the bedroom. "I'll be taking the night shift today. Goodbye, Bonnie."

Lyn walked down the stairs slowly, gripping what was once her most treasured possession in one hand and a clenched fist at her side. She slammed the front door of the house and looked up at the now starry sky. She felt tears streaking down her face once again. She ran to the door of the small shop and took out her key. She opened the door very tenderly, not wanting to disturb Scott.

She walked into the storage room and looked around for somewhere to put her lyre, but heard someone coming down the stairs. Lyn gasped. For whatever reason, she didn't want to be spotted here. She climbed over a stack of boxes and, in a instant, the last one collapsed, sending her flying into the wall where an old, brass mirror was placed. She slammed into it, her mind filling with terror. She clasped her eyes waiting for glass to collide with her skin, but no such thing occurred. She felt the floor under her body. The sounds of Scott coming down the stairs was gone. She squinted and tried to pick herself up, but she couldn't. Was her leg broken? She questioned herself, opening her eyes and trying to examine her body. Bright green and white hair blocked her eyes and she brought what she presumed to be her hand up to brush the hair aside. She felt something pointy protruding out of her forehead. What was going on? She moved past the pointed thing and waved the hair aside.

"Aaaaggggggghhh!" she let out a scream at her reflection in the mirror. She was now a mint green unicorn, her flank emblazoned with a golden lyre. She did her best to stand. "It's okay, Lyn . . . You must have knocked yourself out . . ."

She stood up on her four legs and stared at the reflection some more. "But . . . It doesn't feel like a dream."

Lyn turned away from the mirror and listened carefully for voices. "What's all the commotion down here?!" It was Scott!

Lyn felt relief, as it were, wash over her. She must be hallucinating. Though, if that was a relief, she was unsure what wasn't.

She heard a click and the door behind her swung open.

"Thief! My sweet Celestia! BonBon get down here and help me!" a light brown pony screamed, throwing the door open and holding a threatening stance in front of the confused Lyn.

"Wait, who are you? What is going on!" Lyn questioned as she spotted a photograph sitting upon the counter, a photograph of a pony that looked exactly like her.

Prologue: Lyn Harsri

Dear Diary,

I've never had a diary before, so this feels a little weird, but I'll just write whatever it is I need to.

My name is Lyn Harsri. I work in my town's local orchestra as a lyre player. I have blonde hair with green streaks and pale white skin. People say I'm a bit of a tomboy, but it's just how I am. No shame in that, right? I have been playing for the past ten years, and I consider myself to be one of the best in the orchestra. I live in Manhattan, and frankly, without my Lyre I would be friendless. I wish I had friends, I really do, but I can't find the time for any, my job is very consuming. Today is an important day for me: my orchestra has promoted me to a front chair, complete with a solo position. I can't wait. I have polished my lyre so many times today in preparation. I haven't even fed my cat today I'm so busy.

I am turning twenty five in a few days. Funny how the time flies by, isn't it? After all those times I have gone to these music meets, today is my first solo? This had better be amazing, or I am afraid they might kick me out. That would ruin everything.

My lyre is everything I am; as primitive as it seems, music is my soul. I've felt that maybe, if humans had one talent and one alone, I'd be the best lyre player in all of the world. I guess I'm being a little long winded, so I'll just wrap up this entry now. I have to get to my performance.