You Cannot Give Up Again

by Selbi

Rating: everyone
Tags: Drama, Octavia, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3101

About to let go of all her dreams of the future, Octavia is salvaged by a memory and the only pony who could save her.

About to let go of all her dreams of the future, Octavia is salvaged by a memory and the only pony who could save her.

Edited by Octavia Harmony, Sarcasmo, Aragón, and PR.
Cover art by josh-5410 and metadragonart, edited by me.

Revision 3.5

Published 2014-11-14 00:40:08 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-14 00:40:08 UTC

Memories for a Time to Come

“You cannot give up.”

I thought back to my grandmother. Pictures of her aged yet smiling appearance wandered through my mind. Her lips moved in a firm, steady motion as they formed those four words. They echoed through my head, becoming louder and louder with each passing moment.

At first I wanted it to stop, lest it become an unbearable cacophony. However, as time moved on, I let the feeling sink in and accepted my fate.

“Forgive me, Grandma. I have no other choice.”

I didn’t even have the energy to care that I had hit my knee as I sat down on the park bench. A careless move due to my lack of full attention to what I was doing, bundled with having no better focus for my eyes than the ground below me. The pain was not subtle, yet all I was able to do in response was flinch once.

At the same time, I let my cello case fall to the dirt without any consideration for the consequences. A soft echo from the strings’ impact, amplified by the corpus, resounded from the plastic case before it was quickly silenced.

With the tone having died down, I looked up into the sky, trying to relax as best as I could.

On that night, the dark sky was truly a scene to behold. I hadn’t seen it this star-covered and cloud-free in months. There weren’t any street lanterns around, yet the illumination of the moon and its children was more than enough to see freely into the sleeping village. Reflections from the misty plants that surrounded me projected an air of calmness. Like the spotlights that engulfed the stage.

I stopped.

The stage…

With hesitation, I dared to look at my cello case, but at the sight of it I sealed my eyes and shook my head.

No, I couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t right.

As I shook my head again, I heard chatter coming from my right. I looked towards the source of the noise and saw two ponies—a mare and stallion couple—dressed in rather fancy clothing, coming out of the concert house. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was clear just from the way they looked at each other with wide grins that they had a good time. I flinched when I also heard them laugh out loudly in unison.

My own expression remained unchanged. I looked away.

Another couple came out of the building. However, they were dead silent and didn’t give away much of something like a smile or frown either. I saw that the stallion had narrowed eyes, as if he was bethinking the night’s events, and that his mouth had formed a slight downward curve. He might’ve been tired or annoyed, but I couldn’t tell immediately.

I didn’t even have the time to decide which was the case anyway. A lone stallion came running out of the house. Though trying to run would probably be the better description, as he staggered in every direction but in a straight line. I didn’t even want to begin to imagine how much overpriced wine he had drunk to become this dazed.

It’s not like I had any chance to either.

“Shis wash garbash!” he screamed between hiccups. “I wan mah moneh ba—hic—ck!”

“Well, thanks a lot, random drunk stranger,” I said to no one in particular. “This was the line I needed to hear now. Truly the best situation possible to utter it, too.”

I was glad to see the concert hall’s security escorting the stallion away. “Serves him right.”

“He kinda has a point, though.” I turned my head to small group of three mares, their eyes all in the direction of the drunk stallion. “That show wasn’t worth a bit.”

“Yeah!” another one said in response. “I’m not sure how anyone could think it was worth the time or the money to see this. I’ve seen better performances in filly school.”

The others mhmed and nodded.

“Who does this Octavia think she is? She should stop making music before she embarrasses herself even more.”

At that point I lost all willpower to continue listening. Everything I needed to guess how their conversation would end was presented on a silver platter. A silver platter with rotten food on it.

Well, Octavia, you’ve done it.

The time seemed to fly like I was watching a timelapse in a movie from then on. Ponies kept streaming out of the building, some of them cheery, some of them grumpy. I didn’t pay attention to anything that was uttered. I otherwise would not have had a problem understanding anything, but whatever my ears picked up was blocked by my mind, instantly rejecting the meaning of any word that was thrown at it.

When I recovered from my trance, I realized that all the remaining lights of the concert house had been turned off. The last guest must’ve already left a while ago. I was all by myself now. Just me and the crickets chirping their melodies into the night.

Or maybe they were laughing at me…

“You know that’s not true.”

My grandma was always kind. However, that didn’t mean she had no concept of how to show authority when it was needed.

“You will pick up that cello and continue practicing, Octavia.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t, Grandma. The others will laugh at me again!”

“Octavia…” She sighed. “I was young once too, many years ago. I know how difficult it is keep up your faith to continue doing something you like.”

“But I don’t like playing the cello! It’s stupid and too difficult!”

“Watch your tone, young lady!” She pointed her hoof at my face, only a few inches from touching it. Then she sighed once more and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. Just… let me tell you a tale from my youth. Maybe that will help make things clearer.”

“Uhm, excuse me? Miss?”

I shrieked as I was yanked out of my dream, and I hastily moved my head in all directions. My eyes took their time to adjust to the moonlit night, trying to make out where the question came from. They came to a halt on a young mare in front of me. She was tilting her head as she looked at me with wide eyes.

“Is everything okay? You looked like you were knocked out.”

I coughed, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah, everything okay. I must’ve drifted for a second, I guess. Sorry.”

The mare raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for what? Sleeping on a park bench? I hardly believe that’s illegal. I was just worried something had happened to you.”´

“If only you knew…” I mumbled.

“Sorry, what was that?” the mare asked.

“N-nothing. Everything is fine,” I said, half-chuckling.

She sighed. “Hey, everybody has a bad day now and then. There’s nothing to worry about. It’ll pass.”

My eyebrows narrowed. “Oh yeah?” I said at her, more sarcastic than I intended, but the pony didn’t even take a step back. She stood there, her ears pointed towards me, waiting for me to go on.

My mind was set ablaze, and so was the rest of my body. I let it all flow out of me.

“How could you possibly know if this will ever pass? How can you say you know what it is like to be in my situation?! You come across and think you have any idea of what I’m going through or what it is to have the disappointment of your life! How do you dare to… How do you… How…”

My words got lost as my emotions won the battle inside me. I slowly felt my eyes getting wet as a small part of me still tried to fight the hopeless battle of coming up with insults for the stranger, craving for her to feel as I did. But just as I thought I had finished finding the next petty excuse to vent at someone I have never seen before, it happened.

The mare sat down next to me.

And she took me into her embrace.

“There, there, it’s fine,” she whispered into my ear.

A second passed in which my brain tried to figure out what what that meant. As the realization clicked into place, I buried my face into her soft fur and started weeping quietly.

Eventually I forgot about that, though. I was in the safe embrace of someone else. Nothing could harm me. I let it all out. My eyes were like waterfalls, but the tears never hit the ground, stopped immediately by the mare’s shoulder.

The pony started stroking my mane slowly, softly. She said nothing else, but that alone was already enough to warm my shuddering body with a light that enveloped me in a wave of unspoken emotions. A light that illuminated me entirely.

A thought formed in my mind. This mare hadn’t introduced herself, and neither had I. She didn’t even ask what the matter was. All she noticed was that I wasn’t in a good shape. And now she was stroking my mane and offering her own to be drenched by my continuous flow of salty tears. She didn’t care about the full story, she just wanted to be there.

Comprehending the full meaning of this pierced like a thrown spear right through all my misery. Another wave of tears surged from my eyes. But this time, I was smiling all the while. She couldn’t have seen it, but I think she noticed it either way, as my weeping was layered with more and more giddy chuckling.

My laughter was eventually like that of a filly who had just found her cutie mark, and I hugged the mare as tightly as I could. If I weren’t so exhausted, I might’ve broken all of her bones at once. She tapped me on my shoulders.

“Oh, sorry.” I laughed and eased my grip around her, letting her exhale. I still held her a little longer, enjoying it as much as I could, then I moved my head out of her embrace and looked up to her.

“I’m fine,” she said, chuckling herself. She smiled warmly as she met my eyes. “But are you fine?”

I nodded. “Yes, definitely. Thank you a lot!”

“No problem,” she said. “I’m glad I could help.”

I went back into her warm embrace and looked up into the stars. They looked like they had changed completely during my time in the mare’s presence. Where before a small area contained only a few dim stars, the whole sky was now as though it had been repainted. Each star that had previously resided alone now had a new friend.

I thanked Luna in silence.

As though I was guided by the strings of a puppeteer, I put my cello on its stand and sat down in front of my granny, who found a place on her old rocking chair. After taking a few seconds, probably to collect her thoughts, she started speaking.

“When I was your age, I was still starting to learn how to play my first instrument, the piano. After a few weeks, I was able to do the basics, knowledge that would take other foals months if not years to learn. I had an unusual natural talent, as my teacher used to say. The joy I had over that experience was marvellous. Never before had anyone mentioned I was so good at something that I could pick it up and play it with ease.

“However, herein lies the problem. From the simple compliment I picked up more than I should have. Just because I was good at the beginning didn’t mean I was immediately a perfect player. I had as much to learn as any other piano player.

“I gave up after only another year, when my rate of improvement seemed to have slowed down to a barely noticeable minimum. It felt like it was standing still, in fact. I had the mindset that, if I didn’t feel myself improving, I must be incapable of moving on and as such will be stuck forever. That this was nothing but me being naive and unreasonable, however, is a realization I made when it was already too late.”

She got up from her chair and looked me directly in the eyes.

“Of course I can’t make the ultimate decision for you, but if you give up now, Octavia… then you will be haunted by that decision for the rest of your life.”

After a minute of peaceful silence, a question crossed my mind. I leaned away from the mare again and looked at her. “If, uhm…” I coughed. “If I may ask… Why did you not want to hear the reason why I was, you know… so sad?” I blinked once. “You just… I don’t know, accepted my situation and took me into your embrace as though we have known each other for years. Why?”

The mare chuckled. “Because it doesn’t matter how long a pony has known another one or what reasons they have when they are feeling down, silly,” she said. “You see, it makes no difference what got them into the situation or what they could’ve done differently.” She got up from the park bench and stood in front of me. “The fact is that they are not feeling well, and I want to be there in these moments. That’s way more important than understanding every detail, if you ask me.”

I sighed and leaned back, looking into the night sky again. I closed my eyes and smiled. “Yes… you are right,” I said. “I agree, comfort is more important than venting. Now that I think about it, going on like that would’ve only made things worse. Though, I do feel much better now, so I think I can talk about what happened.”

I took a pause to breathe in some air, letting it flow through my entire body.

“I’m a cellist from Canterlot,” I said. “Well, ‘cellist in the making’ is probably the better way to put it. My career hasn’t been as clean and perfect so far as I would’ve liked it to be, and I’ve failed to impress today’s audience by a long—”

I hit my forehead with my hoof and pressed it against my closed eyes hard enough to see stars, shaking my head.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I completely forgot to introduce myself, again. Can’t believe I haven’t done that yet after all your help, especially because I already intended to do that a moment ago. Please forgive me.” I coughed again. “My name is Octavia Philharmonica.”

When I didn’t hear a response, I opened my eyes again to look at pony.

“And you are?” I asked, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness.

Again, no response.

“Hello?”

I looked left and right, up and down, but I didn’t see the mare anywhere. There were no hoofprints to be seen anywhere around me; there were no signs anyone was ever here but me. Where did she go? Did she run off? Was I being annoying? Why didn’t I notice it?

“Oh no,” I said to myself. Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Did my desperation for comfort make me think up a fake friend for a quick hug, one that would vanish the moment I felt better again?

But as quickly as the worries came up, they disappeared again as the mare’s earlier words resurfaced in my head.

It didn’t matter.

Who this pony was, what she was doing here, why she had decided to help me… it all didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that someone held out a helping hoof in a moment of complete hopelessness. With her comfort I was saved from falling even deeper into this dark pit, saved from undoubtedly establishing regrets over the worst decision I would’ve ever made—giving up my music, my future, my life.

But I didn’t give up.

After a sigh, my eyes spotted a small piece of paper on the ground. I picked it up and smiled. It only one single line written on it.

I gasped as my grandma’s words sunk in. What did she say? That I would be haunted by my decision for the rest of my life?

“But why can’t I change that decision later on?” I asked.

“Well, Octavia, it’s because…” She lowered her head and sighed deeply. “It’s because a single pony will rarely ever gain enough willpower and motivation to undo a mistake of this caliber. I know that from personal experience.”

She put a hoof on my shoulder and smiled.

“Please, Octavia, listen. It is important to me that you know this: I regret that decision of giving up my musical dreams over a silly phase of dismay ever since I made it. I betrayed myself for pitiful reasons.”

I yelped in surprise as she pulled me into a tight hug without warning.

“Promise me…” I thought I could hear her weeping, if only a little bit. Or maybe that was just my imagination. “Please promise me, my dear Octavia… that you will never do the same. Don’t repeat my foolishness. If you are at the end of your faith and wish to let go of everything you have worked so hard for, please think through your decision thoroughly. I have given up before…”

I smiled too, returning the hug and letting myself fall freely into her embrace.

“You cannot not give up again.”

Author's Note

This was a very peculiar story to write. I tried multiple experiments at once: One-session writing for something that was not a story below two thousand words, as well as not relying on any other editors to work on this story. Especially the latter part was important to me, as this story is probably the most personal one I've ever written, and I want it to be exactly like it was created by me, without someone else "fixing the beauty errors."

(In the end I did let some people look over this, though that was after two weeks of this story already having been published. If anyone cares, here is the old version; password is password, because I'm so original.)

What exactly this story has to do with myself and how much autobiographical content you would find in it is not relevant. I see it as a general message to everyone who has to go through a similar phase.

Thank you.