Prologue
0
Let me tell you an interesting story:
Octavia sat in her chair. It's a nice chair, by the way. Thanks for asking. Really.
She practiced her cello, stopping every once and again to scribble something down on the music in front of her, whether it was an indication to keep doing what she was doing, or to change that around entirely. She played with Lyra.
Lyra's room was somewhat small. It was cozy, however. Her sea-foam green sheets really contrasted with her darkish gray coat.
Her lyre was soothing. Or, at least, Octavia thought it was.
I really have no reason to say this, however, Octavia may or may not have had a huge crush on Lyra. Then again, that's just me. You don't have to listen me if you don't want to.
I believe the piece she was working on was something along the lines of 'a trot through the sand' or something like that. It was okay, at best.
Lyra was the first one to peep up. "Did you ever think about playing an f-sharp instead of f-natural? I feel like it would pair better. If you want to, that is"
Maybe it was that Lyra had a crush on Octavia.
"Y-Yeah! I'll do that. Thanks"
Or perhaps it was a common thought. I'll never remember for sure.
So they played for a little longer as the time went by. They enjoyed it.
It was nearing eight o'clock now.
At least it wasn't a school night, with university and whatnot.
Lyra peeped up again: "Are you hungry?"
Am I hungry? I think I am. Do you think it'd be rude to ask for some food? I hope not, She thought.
"I kinda am, actually, yeah."
There was a long pause. Octavia spoke up again.
"Do you wanna get some food?"
While this, definitely being the most boring part of the story, does continue. I could go on pointlessly back and forth between conversations, but perhaps I shouldn't spare you the time. What are you, worth it to me? I think I'll just give a brief description of what happened.
They walked down to the boardwalk (yes, that exists where they were. What did you expect them to look at, dirt?), and got some hay burgers with some hay fries. They really do love their hay. I'll never get it.
They had a nice conversation about music, perhaps throwing in a joke about an f-sharp and a balloon. I forget how it goes, but it ends with it popping the balloon. Or maybe that was an f-flat....
Anyways, I have digressed. Back to the story:
The two were walking back from their meals. It was slightly raining outside. More like a drizzle, really.
"Hey, Octavia, look out for that puddle in front of-"
It was too late. The bomb dropped and Octavia stepped right into it.
She stared down at her soaked hoof. She was speechless. Was this even her world anymore?
"Oh Octavia, you're such dingus."
Time seemed to freeze for her.
Dingus.
Dingus
Dingus
Dingus!
"H-how could you?"
The Dingus' Diary
1
Let me continue my story:
Jump forward a day. Octavia was back at her own house. She was laying in bed. Crying.
Dingus
How could she call her that word?
Octavia reached for a journal she had on her bookshelf. It was empty, most like the others. Usually they were used for music-related things, but she felt more compelled to keep a journal more than anything right now.
It needed to be done.
She opened to the first page and started to write:
Why?
Entry one: Why would she say that? The fact that anyone, in any sense of mind in that, would call me a dingus is just... impossible. Someone that would say that has the darkest of hearts, like a void. So she fills it. With insults. Fuck Lyra, fuck her, and fuck anyone she knows! I'm done with her. I'm done with everything.Why do I even bother anymore?
I think I'm going to go for a bit.
I'll see you later.
That would only be the first entry for many to come. Perhaps if you were to stick around a bit, you'd see the rest of her story unfold.
