Instumental

The one I believed was Mallet began on the bass drum, replicating thunder. It reverberated within my flesh and ears. Quiet, then loud, and then quiet in repetitive entropy. The one I believed was Fortissimo begun too, on the far left side of the keyboard, in a low eight-note rotation. It screamed psychopathy and darkness. It ceased the ‘quiet and then loud’ thing and just started getting louder and louder. It came to be unbearable: the constant pounding in my ears accompanied with an eldritch piano thingamajig. And then, all of a sudden, it stopped. It was replaced by Octavia’s cello.

The cellist faded in with a low bass hum ejaculated from the speakers. Octavia repeated a few measures over and over, and the ‘wubs’ complemented it perfectly. I opened my eyes and saw Octavia swaying with the music. It was simple, but heavenly. The ‘wubs’ went in a (sort-of) two-note rotation. The electronic beat was faint and riddled with hi-hat notes. Octavia nodded to me; I looked at my sheet music and began.

Now the odd chords took their toll on the music. It sounded… entropic. That was the only way I could describe it. I’d skip a few notes and then make up for it a few rests later. I looked at the sheet music; the more normal part was coming up. Ah, here we are. The chords became normal (yet the odd pattern was still in affect) and the cello added a few notes and sped up others. The piano joined in now in a calm, hypnotic sixteen note rotation. It (how should I put this in a way that doesn’t make me sound insane) tasted like dust, felt like sunlight and smelt like ozone. It was cheerier than the last part.

The part came up where my contribution went to normal, and I almost cried. Everypony contributed now, Mallet levitated both a bass drum mallet and two drumsticks in her magical grasp. With she drumsticks she lightly tapped on a snare drum that I hadn’t noticed before, and with the bass drum mallet she kept a constant rhythmic beat. Octavia swayed with the noise of the cello. Fortissimo was gazing at the keyboard and playing. Even Vinyl was fiddling with the computer and nodding her head to the constant wubs. It was all beautiful; everything was beautiful. Yet I couldn’t keep my eyes off the grey mare. She was stunning, even though she was crying. Wait a minute…crying? Why was…was she sad? Maybe these were tears of joy. I looked at her maw, and she was smiling slightly. Did she enjoy this song as much as I did? Maybe…

Still she was beautiful, and…gorgeous. But then Octavia opened her mouth. She began singing. I had never heard of a composition with lyrics besides operas. Maybe I should’ve payed more attention during college. When she sang, it sounded like her heart was being torn in two. Hurt. I shed a tear unexpectedly. Her mouth let the lyrics flow out, but not before they went through her filter, installing her gorgeous cadences and trills. I shed another tear.