The Only Tears That Fall Are Red
Scars re-opened
Previous ChapterA/N: I finally picked this back up and wrote this goddamn epilogue in about 20 minutes. It's probably shit, but hey. I tried, didn't I? I'll actually probably post a part 2...but whatever. Enjoy this piece of dog shit.
*Five years after moving from
Fillydelphia. Red went to Filly for 2 years, then Canterlot for 3,
eventually leaving to go to his old home. In Canterlot, he met several new friends, the two main ones being Union Jack and Turntable. I’ll link the story that they’re in. You better go read it, seriously. The author is a buckin’ genius.*
The air was full of chirping, the crickets loud. My hooves shook slightly as I stood on the balcony of my old home in Ponyville. The old building had recently been renovated with my own savings, which were spent on building the same balcony that I was now standing on. The floor was glass, with a railing around it, overlooking Ponyville. You could see the Everfree forest, as well. I made sure to position the balcony to have the best view possible, but sometimes even the view failed to distract me from pain.
“I’m only visiting...don’t think about the past, that’s going to hinder you. Move on, Red. MOVE ON!”. The little voice in my head nagged at me while I stood leaning over a railing. I looked over the balcony, breathing in the night air and enjoying the pseudo-serenity, the silence around me contrasting with the chaos WITHIN me.
“It’s been two years since I’ve been here...my parents are gone...my enemies have left...why am I unhappy, then?” I mumbled aloud, fighting to control the sudden attack of depression. My hormones kicked into hyperdrive, and I instinctively reached for a knife that wasn’t there.
“Turntable...Jack...where are you now? Why aren’t you here? Where are you?” I whispered to myself, knowing full well that I was being overdramatic. What did it matter? I missed my friends, but I had made a choice to leave them, there was no turning back. I raised my head and looked out into the distance, my eyes going hazy. This feeling of abandonment was all too well known to me, yet I wouldn’t let it get me down. My entire body started to quake as I felt a familiar sensation building up inside me. Pain, hatred, loneliness, depression. All those emotions bottled up for years, ready to explode. I grabbed the guitar case I kept in the corner of the balcony, unzipped it, and pulled out the sleek Stratocaster. The red and white coat of the guitar shone in the dim moonlight, and it reeked of cleaning chemicals. I kept it in good shape, it was my most prized possession.
I plugged the guitar into a 6-foot tall stack amp, all Fender, and ripped right into a high E, blasting the noise in the direction of the Everfree. I didn’t care if I was heard, yelled at, whatever. All I cared about was releasing this stress.
I took a deep breath while the note dragged on and released it into a yell, my false vocal cords going hyperactive and propelling my voice to go louder. My wings, scarred a misshapen after years of abuse, drug along the neck of the guitar, playing chords as my hoof slammed on a pedal, dramatically changing the tone of the guitar. I stopped my yelling and just burst into a solo, sending the sound of my anguish across the landscape.
I finished, feeling purified of all negative emotions. That is, until I heard a voice calling from below, then my flames of hatred were re-ignited.
"I'd know that playing anywhere. Where ya' been, Red? Hopefully not still angry?" The voice said, and the pony it belonged to appeared over the railing, on top of a crystal pillar.
"Hey, Rampage" I said through gritted teeth. I still couldn't bring myself to trust him, no matter how hard I tried. Then I realized he had his mic and Telecaster with him, and I grinned. "You going to join me, Rampage? Like old times?" I said, with a hint of taunting. He and I used to play all the time, but that changed once he turned into a total jerk...I wiped the thought from my mind, watching as he hopped onto the balcony, staring at it with respect in his eyes.
"Nice improvement, I like it", he said smirking, while erecting speakers out of emerald for the mic. I laughed in spite of myself, nostalgic about the experience. He used to always use emerald, said it worked best. To my surprise, he created another mic as well, and tossed it to me.
"Should we play the usual, Red? You get harsh vocals, I'll do chorus?" He asked me, in all of his professionalism. I nodded silently, taking deep breaths.
He rammed into a chord, and the drumline played along in my head.
My vocal cords were vibrating like they hadn't in years. All my anger, all my sorrow, all my pain. All that remained of it went into this song as I yelled into the mic, bobbing my head to the rhythm. I was one with the music. I lived in it, for it. I was the music. My wings prepared for the solo as Rampage kicked off the first half, using magic to manipulate the strings. He then passed the baton effortlessly off to me, ending on the same note that I started on. We thrashed around, finishing the song up. My mane was dripping with sweat, and I could see that his was too. We stared at each other, no longer seeing ourselves as ponies. We were the embodiment of rhythm, of passion. I could now see he loved music as much as I, and I felt a sudden connection to him. I nodded and his horn glowed in response, beginning a simple chord that brought me into another fit of yelling and thrashing around, blasting the surrounding area with pure passion.
We finished again, and my muscles were as sore as my wings from the thrashing. I was done, and so was Rampage. I turned around, my shell breaking open. I silently sobbed in memory of my lost friends, in revelation of my current loneliness. I then felt a hoof on my shoulder, and looked back to see Rampage. He smiled a little, and spoke softly;
"You know, let's go inside and talk about what's happened in the past. Maybe we can sort this out yet".
Hopefully.... I thought, refusing to hate him any longer. I'll give him one last shot
We walked into my house together, with the best intentions of fixing what had been broken in the past