This Is My Favourite Song!
Sweetie Belle bounced towards the stereo, cranking up the dial. She jumped about to the music as her friends continued focusing on homework. The rhythm was fast, perky and something uplifting. Sweetie began shaking her hooves, legs scattering about the room as if rocking a disco. The drums blared as the base provided a smooth backdrop to guitar solos.
Apple Bloom, once caught up in some science project, had finally taken notice. “Sweetie,” she yelled, trying to shout over the music, “It’s one in the morning, we have a lot of homework to do and ah’ can’t focus with that darn music screaming in ma’ ears!”
“WHAT!?” hollered Sweetie Belle, far too preoccupied with an air guitar to pay any attention. She whipped her mane violently, flicking the hair till it had lost its once vibrant twirls. Sweetie was ecstatic, indulging in the freedom of Rarity being gone for the entire day. She’d be back first thing in the morning, and this bouncing girl didn’t want to waste a second of tonight. Her friends didn’t seem to be in the same mindset, though.
Scootaloo finally decided to take action. Without a word, she trotted over to the stereo and pulled the plug from its outlet. The room went deathly silent as Sweetie continued dancing frantically; it took her a moment to realize the music had died. She turned to her Pegasus friend with a deadened look. “Hey, what’s the big deal? That was my favorite song!”
Scootaloo planted a hoof to her face. “Sweetie Belle, you’ve been playing that song on loop for a good two hours. I don’t know about you, but Apple Bloom and I actually got some work to do.”
Sweetie didn’t seem moved by Scootaloo’s excuse to kill such a beautiful harmony. “I thought you guys came over tonight to have some fun.” Her face was sagging as two scowls seamlessly met her eyes.
“It’s getting late, ah’m gonna be heading home,” announced Apple Bloom.
“Oh come on, don’t go,” Sweetie begged, “The night‘s still young, we’ve got plenty of time to have some more fun!”
Her friends didn’t seem amused, only stared blankly, the bags beneath their eyes weighing them down. “I’m leaving too,” said Scootaloo with a yawn, “I’m about to pass out.”
“Guys come on!”
Sweetie’s friends gave a halfhearted wave before slowly closing the door behind them.
She was alone now, no sound but Apple Bloom’s yammering as she trotted downstairs and left the boutique.
The once vibrant sounds and colorful dancing was gone, and Sweetie saw nothing to do but flop back on her bed, stare blankly at the posters plastered across the ceiling. “Those two could be so boring sometimes,” she mumbled, seeming to melt within the softness of her pillow. She felt her eyelids go heavy, sleep beckoned her, she needed sleep, she wanted it.
“NO!” Sweetie yelled, sitting upright, “I’m not letting a moment of tonight pass me by.” She galloped downstairs, fumbling through the darkness for a light switch. She scavenged through the kitchen cabinets for a mug, retrieved one, and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“This should surely keep me awake,” she smiled, yet her grin was empty and wavering.
Tiredly, she flicked the lights off and headed back to her room, closing the door behind her with a creek. Sitting back on the softness of her bed, she stared bitterly into the cup of brown liquid.
“Bottoms up…”
She took a large slurp, cringing at the awful taste. She never liked coffee. Clasping her eyes and scrunching her snout, Sweetie swallowed the horrid beverage, feeling it slither down her throat. “God, I forgot how much I hate coffee.”
She looked about the room, feeling the true emptiness weighing down on her like bricks. The coffee didn’t seem to kick in as quickly as she hoped. “Maybe some music… that should *YAAAWWWWNNN* keep me awake.
Sweetie haphazardly struggled with her footing as she headed for the stereo. Kneeling down, she plugged in the cord, listening to the satisfying click as the stereo turned on. Her favorite song once again blasted from the speakers, yet the color and joy no longer stood in the lyrics or notes. It was just background music now.
She hadn’t noticed that on her way to the stereo, she had spilled a trail of coffee across the floor. “Damn it.”
Setting down the mug, Sweetie left her room, too tired to silence the blaring music. She could hear it blasting from upstairs as she grabbed a couple napkins from the kitchen. It was like a party up there, a party of no one. But as she turned for the staircase, an odd sound caught her attention.
Very, very, vaguely, she could make out the sound of footsteps from upstairs. They were quiet, almost masked by the muffled music. Sweetie stopped in her tracks, slammed a hoof to her chest, felt her heart rate.
“Is somepony in my room?”
Slowly, she inched her way up the stairs, attempting to stay completely silent behind the disguise of music. The footsteps continued to sound from her bedroom, and she refused to accept the fact that somepony may be in there.
She’s at the door now, eyes wider than dinner plates, hooves trembling and sweat raining.
The footsteps continued, right beyond the door.
Without hesitation, she flung herself in. The music was still screaming, the trail of coffee she left was still fresh, and nopony to be seen.
She couldn’t help but laugh, laugh at herself for being such a scaredy filly. With a massive sigh of relief, she sat back on her bed, too happy knowing she was alone, just the way she wanted it.
As the music slowly melted back into Sweetie Belle, she felt the urge to dance again. But before leaping up for another round of air guitar… something else caught her attention.
It was not a sound this time… but a smell.
It was… bitter, thick and heavy. Sweetie knew this smell… it was urine.
Following her nose, it leads directly towards the closet. The smell was seeping through the door panels, filling the room in a hideous reek.
Sweetie approached the closet, the music still screaming in her ears from behind. As she opened the doors, like a stampede of oxen, a wave of stink slapped her in the face. She felt the need to puke.
Pushing aside wracks of hats and jackets, Sweetie found a large opening behind the wall of clothing. There sat a sleeping bag, empty nature bar wrappers, a pile of garbage, and at least twenty bottles of… piss.
“Someponies been living in here.”
As the cheerful, upbeat rock played from the other room, Sweetie suddenly felt the odd tingling of air trickling down the back of her neck, the sound of heavy, deep breathing from directly behind her....
