The Life and Death of a DJ

Chapters

Prologue
Vibrant Light
Busking
Jumpstart
Changing Times
Tragedy
Octavia
Music Academy
Bridge: Catalyst
DJ Pon-3
Bridge: Reminiscing
The Night She Fell
Chemical Romance
A Change of Heart
Hopes of a Brighter Future
Of Griffers and Alignments
Bridge: Completing the Circle
Written in Ink (Pt 1.)
Written in Ink (Pt 2.)
Written in Ink (Pt 3.)
Written in Ink (Pt 4.)
Her Final Performance
Syn3rgy's Note to the Curious Reader

Prologue

My life has run its course; I’ve planted my hooves firmly on the ground and ridden the ups and downs to my greatest potential. I’ve loved, I’ve hated, I’ve cried, I’ve laughed… but most importantly I’ve overcome.

Overcome my upbringing, my sorrows, my regrets, my downfalls, my losses and my failures. I’m complete, or almost complete.

All that’s left is the smooth keys in front of me and a final wish. I could do it; I would call her to me and see her for a final time.

Taking a deep meditative breath I brought my left hoof down on a key. It gave off a pure sound, one that rung out crisply and reverberated pleasantly; I could feel the bass undertone rattle deep in my chest. An electric blue light had flashed before my eyes; a mere spark, or a compound that, when combined with another, would begin to manifest.

A brief smile tweaked the corners of my muzzle.

I still had it in me.

I played a second note, and the blazing red spark elicited rose to accommodate the blue one. Together they danced momentarily before combining together as a crackling blue and red orb.

I played a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh.

The new colors began to combine with the orb, circling it, changing it, becoming a backdrop for a picture. The scene began to unfold before my very eyes.

I would call her back… even if it killed me.

Vibrant Light

It was the times like these that I loved the most. Those times when the sun was setting or rising, casting the world in a sheet of vibrant monochromatic light.

I sat with my hooves tucked close to my chest to keep warm and a peaceful smile splayed across my face. My eyes were partially closed as I basked in the mellow light of the rising sun. A call from a songbird above made me return to reality, and I shifted my position on the wavy hillside to gaze intently at the painted sky, allowing the nagging thoughts to return.

Home. Family. Unity.

I couldn't help but wonder that if somewhere off in the distance, a mare was looking at that same sun that blazed in front of me now. I even went to the extents of imagining that that mare might be my mother. The smile faded then from my face. Suddenly crestfallen, I turned away from the sunrise to look gloomily at the sun-baked ground. If there even was a mare searching for me, she'd never find me here. The Sunnyside Orphanage was in the middle of nowhere. I got up from where I was resting to canter gloomily back to the silhouetted frame.

I sat alone in the far back corner of the cafeteria, prodding my hay and oat lunch combo unenthusiastically. The oats were far too pasty, and the hay was old… typical for Meadowvale’s dishes. However this was my only source of nourishment, and I had to keep strong. There was a grueling work load coming up in the second half of the day, and there was no way I was going to collapse again. My face involuntarily flushed crimson as I recalled my fainting spell earlier on in the morning. Everypony had laughed at me, and I had to swallow hard just to keep myself from breaking out in tears then and there.

What did I do to deserve this constant bull’s-eye on my back?

“Hey Vinyl, how about you share that meal with us?”

Lost in reverie, I hadn't noticed the three approaching colts, and they now stood a mere hoof away, sneering maliciously. I felt my heart contract in despair.

“Leave me alone guys, I… I just want to eat in peace… ok? Can’t you… can't you just go away and pick on somepony else?” I said, attempting to hold my ground.

“Well you know we would, Vinyl, but you’re the only one with a full meal left; and we’re pretty hungry,” the brawny colt on the left rationalized unfairly. The rest of his groupies nodded in agreement. In an almost choreographed way the bullies moved to flank me; two on each side with the original speaker directly in front. “And besides, I don’t think you really deserve the food. You’re worthless to the workforce.” Again, I flushed. I was wondering when they would bring that up.

“I’m not!” I said defensively, “It was hot out, and I missed the watering station because I was working! I’ve put my fair share in, I deserve an equal serving...” A sharp laugh from one of the flanking ponies.

The colt continued. “Excuses excuses! Vinyl, you’re nothing but a worthless blank flank who cries like a newborn and still wishes that her mother will come to find her!”

Ouch. I felt my eyes burn in humiliation.

“You know you’re just a wimp when you have such stupid ideas. Your mom is not coming back, hay, she’s probably happy she doesn’t have to deal with you!"

Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to clear them before they were noticed by my assailants.

I was not a failure! I'd worked as hard as everypony else!

Bitterness began to swamp my body and I got up, feeling lightheaded; I swooned a bit.

“Would you look at that? The blank flank is about to faint!” the colt said mockingly.

A harsh shove from behind sent me flying muzzle-first into my untouched platter of food. The bits of oats stuck onto my sweat laden face, and the hay got all tangled up in my mane. Flustered, I got up and tried to clean myself off. As I spun to face the pony that had pushed me, I realized with a start that the whole cafeteria- drawn by the commotion -had turned to look at what was going on. As my messy face came into view a wave of laughter rose; surging forewords to assault my eardrums. I blushed heavily, wishing I could melt into the dusty floorboards beneath my shaking hooves. When I turned angrily on the bullies, intending to give them a piece of my mind, all the tears I'd been trying so hard to hold back streamed forth instead.

"And now she's crying!" the colt hollered, addressing the audience.

It was all too much. To prevent any further embarrassment, I turned and galloped away like the blank flanked failure I was.

Alone. I was alone. Nopony would find me here. I lay silent, curled in the fetal position; burning in the fallout of a good cry. I had retreated to my safe-haven; a shed on the outskirt of Meadowvale’s boundaries. Dust drifted in motes on the air, and cobwebs hung in the corners of the peaked roof.

I recalled the hurting words Alkaline, that bully earth pony, had said. The thought of my mother not wanting me had thrown a horrid spin on my dreams. The very notion that I might have been simply given away dazed me. My mother must love me… right? How could a mother not love her foal? The fact that my ideas on how the world worked were being challenged enraged me. With a flare of anger I lashed out with a hoof at a nearby flipped over bowl. When my strike came into contact with the hollow dinnerware, a brief spark of blue light- something like a camera flash going off -appeared in the corner of my eye.

Confused, I got up and spun in a circle to pinpoint where the glint might have come from. Boarded up windows blocked out any source of light from the outside world. Something drove me to strike again at the bowl, and I did. I was amazed to see the same flash appear; it hovered momentarily in the air before disappearing again. With my current predicament momentarily forgotten, I struck a third and then a fourth time on the smooth surface. Each time the same result was present.This was truly intriguing. Getting up excitedly, I scouted the surrounded area, talking aloud as I went.

“I need something that will give me a good reverb…” on hearing the musical term, I drawled off thoughtfully. I wondered absentmindedly how I came up with such a word.

After a few three-sixty scans, my recon stopped as my eyes locked on to a much larger metal bowl; thin and wide. Cantering over to it, I brought it back to the other, placing it down. Taking a deep breath in, I struck the new bowl. A flash of red. I felt my heart flutter in amazement. Though I had no way to explain the phenomenon that was going on in front of me, I did know what was going on inside… I was feeling genuinely enthralled! My heart was soaring, and something that affected me so positively should not be feared. Feeling adventurous, I brought a hoof down on both bowls.

The two colors that rose from the dinnerware floated up to combine in mid air. Unlike the first time, when the flash I created disappeared seconds later, this new entity stayed, pulsing brilliantly in what seemed to be a condensed orb of blue, red, and yellow. The sight made me stop to gaze in wonder at the sphere. To my reproach, it disappeared. Interesting. Cocking my eyebrow I started playing again, forming the orb for a second instance. This time however, I continued to play. Light from the two bowls flowed forth, filling up the orb and making it grow visibly. Squinting against the glare, I began to mix my strikes up, tapping the metal bowl twice and then the wooden one once, or visa-versa. I took note that each time I switched up the beat, the orb would pulse and change slightly. Licking my lips, I began to strike the bowls at different places, electing a variety of sounds that slowly began to transform the orb into another shape. Almost instinctively I felt a rear hoof shoot out to hit the floor. A shock of emerald green light sprung up, smashing into the orb and pulling it apart.

A wave of new colors began to flow out of the cracked orb, spreading to fill the small space of the cabin in a cocktail of multicolored light. A wide grin began to spread across my face. Shutting my eyes I noticed that I could still see the colors dancing behind my closed lids. Overwhelmed with elation and controlled by what I could only suppose to be the supernatural, my hooves started moving for me, striking out at a variety of objects, from pipes to barrels- to the wall itself. The aura of light began to form into a solid shape. A figure, faded, but clearly feminine appeared. It was my mother, I just knew it. The shaded figure flickered in and out of focus. It had no real details, but I could see a flowing mane and softly glowing eyes.

Breaking out into a sweat I began to play faster, harder, and more precise. My leg joints screamed out in pain from the exertion, however I would not give in. The shape began to smooth out; the edges focused and became sharp and definitive. Clearly now, the shimmering something in front of me had assumed the image of a mare. The shape began to sparkle, and small waves of colored electricity danced over its trim body before settling in to paint the shadowed mare’s cote. The tail began to form, the ears, the smile, the… the….

“Vinyl?”

The voice of an unknown colt shattered the trance I had worked myself into and the image dissipated. Turning to the intruder, I saw the silhouette of an older colt in the entrance. My heart seized up in panic. How had I been found? How long had this mysterious colt been standing there?

I would simply die if he told everypony else of my strange behavior.

“Who… who is it?” I whimpered, fearing the worst.

“I’m Cloud Chaser.”

So he was a pegasi then? This was a good sign. The three bullies were all earth ponies.

“Cloud chaser…?”

“Yep! I was at the back of the cafeteria when those three messed with you. When you bolted, I followed. Are you ok?”

I nodded before getting up and meeting the pegasus. I had a pressing question that needed an answer:

“Did you see the light?”

“The light? You mean the one from outside? The sunset?”

I shook my head, fearing that if I expanded on what the ‘light’ was, I'd lose yet another chance at establishing a friendship… or at least a neutral peer. Picking up on my hesitation, Cloud Chaser smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, you can tell me what you’re talking about.”

Alien gratification filled my heart. For the first time I had been given an equal chance to explain myself.

“The music I play has started turning into colorful light, I was just drawing a picture of my mom, and then… well, you interrupted me.”

The look on the pegasi's face was a combination of curiosity, guilt and sincerity… he was really taking the time to consider such an abstract idea.

Slowly, he began to nod. “I... I kind of understand. When I hear music, I sometimes imagine color...”

“Really?” I asked, wide eyed.

“Ya, but I could never make an image with it, I just see flashes. You’re special, no doubt.” With a shrug Cloud Chaser changed the topic slightly. “Say, don’t take this like I’m a stalker or anything, but I’ve been here for a few minutes… how are you making such good music out of nothing?”

I smiled. “In all truth I don’t know… it’s like I’m being controlled by an outside force or something. That’s not too weird, right?” My insecurity was beginning to assert itself again.

“Nope,” the pegasi said with another friendly smile, “I believed your light story...” he drawled off.

“Oh, ok good, because I was beginning to wonder.” I emitted a small laugh, one that the pegasi joined in on briefly.

“Do you think you can play for me? I was really impressed and…”

He didn’t need to explain his request!

“Sure!” I replied enthusiastically. I was simply thrilled that what I made was good enough to be requested. “But I’m going to need some things. Let’s look for some extra bowls and barrels, ok?” Cloud nodded and the two of us walked back into the shed.

Minutes later, I sat behind a collection of pans, tubes, pots, and other strange items. Cloud Chaser sat against the wall, settling in to prepare for the performance.

“Are you ready?” I asked from behind a tall barrel.

“Yep!” Cloud replied.

I took a deep breath in, calling upon a calm that settled across the entirety of my body. All my attention became refined and focused. The world around me faded. I began to play. Starting off with a simple beat, I slowly began to incorporate layers. The flashing colors began to solidify and combine, but this time, skipped the orb stage completely- choosing instead to rush out and fill the shed, surrounding me and the colt. With the vibrant light shining around me, I felt warmth seep into my chest, taking my breath away. Again I felt the strange presence enter my body, and begin to move my hooves for me.

Brimming with raw emotion, I put all my gratitude and pride into the image building up in front of me. Neon blue wings began to form. These were closely followed by a flowing mane and tail sparkling with green energy, a solid body, and a high held head. I began to fill in the details. A ruby smile appeared on the neon face, followed soon by purple eyes and a vibrant pink and magenta cote. The wings were filled in with white and gold. On completing the shape, I slowed my pace and closed the song off with a wicked solo that broke the image apart, sending it streaming across the room in an explosion of light and beauty. As the colors faded, the sight that met me was both comedic and fulfilling. Cloud Chaser sat wide eyed and staring. His jaw was slack and his wings were flared out in what must have been an intense bout of emotion.

“So, how did I do?” I asked.

Instead of replying however, the pegasus pointed a shaky hoof at my side. It took me a moment to clue in that he was pointing at my flank.

“What is it?” I asked, turning slowly to gaze at where Cloud Chasers hoof was directing my. “Is it spiders?” I hated spiders. “Please tell me it’s not…” my words caught in my throat and I squeed. There, on my flank, a mark had appeared- a musical note. I began to shiver in amazement.

I had gotten my cutie mark!

Busking

Warmth finally came to me, coloring my white coat and setting my mane and tail ablaze with red hues. Celestias sun was rising on the horizon. Laid out in front of me was a collection of stir-fry bowls, organized in a half-crescent around my body. Beyond them, an array of pots and pans placed at different heights around a central barrel gave me a wide berth of high and low alternatives to work with. To my left and right a drumstick had been placed; ready to be enveloped in a field of unicorn magic. The fact of the matter that I could levitate two sticks and use my hooves to play, made my music all the more diverse, and it was that diversity that made me the money to keep me going each day.

Deciding I was done setting up, I stood and made my way towards one of the many vendors erecting their mobile stalls in preparation for the rush that was sure to hit them as the day started. Just outside the park, I used a small motel to sleep and store whatever extra money I made. Manehatten at night was a hellish place, and I was wise enough to retreat to my room with my earnings at around nine each evening.

“Vinyl!” A rather plump earth pony met me with a big smile as I approached the juice stand. “I was expecting you!”

I chuckled and nodded understandingly.

“Of course you were, Juicebox. I pay a visit here, what, almost every morning?”

“Yessery! What would you like today dear? It’s going to be hot… how about a nice big cup of orange juice?” I puckered my lips, nodding slowly.

“I think that’s a good idea. Sure, I’ll have one.”

With a nod the bubbly stallion leaned down behind the stall and pulled up a large container of freshly squeezed orange juice. He then proceeded to grab a large cup and pour the pulp filled beverage into it. Topping it off with a lid, he slid the cold drink my way.

“That’ll be three bits, but you get a discount dear... two bits please.”

I nodded gratefully and took the required amount out of my bit-purse, laying the gold pieces at the vendors waiting hoof.

“Thanks again, Juicebox! I’ll be back to see you later today. Good luck with the sales!” Levitating the drink I trotted back to my buskering station under the oak tree.

As I finished my solo, the assembled audience clippity-clopped the ground exuberantly; cheering as they did so. Soon to follow was a barrage of bits falling into her tin cup.

I bowed. It was getting closer to the end of the day, and there was a lull in visitors, so I decided to pay another visit to Juicebox. Pulling out three bits from my tin, I cast a glance around the thinned out crowd, spotting the peppermint striped umbrella. With a brief smile I began to make my way towards the beacon. As I drew closer, I quickly realized that it was not Juicebox behind the booth, but sompony else. He was a unicorn- like me -and his coat was a brownish color that reminded me of fresh mud. I stopped and looked around again for the stallion I’d planned on buying from, but came up with nothing. Shrugging, I made my way towards the umbrella.

“I’d like to buy something to drink.” Catching sight of my approaching figure, the salespony smiled in a way that led me to suspect he'd recognized me.

“It’s you!” he said.

“Me?” I replied, taken aback.

The salespony nodded. “Ya, the busker from underneath the oak tree, right?"

"Yes, and who are you?"

“Balefire." A dazzling smile, "I was meaning to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” I asked curiously.

“Yes. I have a proposal." He sneezed. "I’ll present it to you when I close down for the evening. Stick around till I do, would ya?”

Well, I never thought the conversation would unfold exactly like this.

“I’ll stay around so long as it’s not past nine. You know how the streets are at night.” I mauled over my words as they came out.

“Don't worry," he assured. "I’ll be done here by eight thirty at the latest.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s a deal I guess. I’ll wait."

We hoof-bumped and the promise was sealed.

The sun was tipping close to the horizon, the day was almost done, and Balefire had turned up on time.

“So you stuck around!” he said with another one of those award winning smiles.

“Well I did bump on it. I’m not the kind of pony that goes back on promises.”

“And neither am I. You’ve waited long enough, so here’s my proposal.” He stopped for a second to clear his throat. “I’ve heard you play all day long, and it’s clear to me that you possess a great ability…”

He lapsed into silence that dragged on endlessly. Peeved, I prompted him to continue with a coaxing hoof wave.

“Ok, and…”

“Well… my brother Dawnfire and I are starting up a band.”

Say what now!

“…we’re looking for a drummer. It’s not like we plan on going professional or anything, but we’d be touring bars all over Manehatten. I’m the guitarist, my brother’s the singer... and, well, would you be the drummer?”

When I diden't respond, Balefire began to second guess himself.

“I understand if you just want to stay here, you don't know who I am and…”

His spluttering was interrupted by my joyous laugh.

“Why are you even trying to convince me?!”

“I know, I know it’s just… wait, you want to join?”

“Ya! Dude, I’m in!” I exclaimed, throwing my front hooves up.

“And here I thought it would take at least a round of shooters to convince you.”

I smiled slyly. “You know. Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t. Busking here is pretty sweet. I make an honest profit, and, well, it’s fun. You’re going to have to do better. You said something about shooters?”

Balefire laughed at my remark and nudged me lightly on the shoulder.

“Damn, you’re one tough cookie," his voice was laced with playful sarcasm, "Sure, you got me. Where do you want to go?”

“The Drinking Trough. You know the place?”

Balefire nodded. “Yep. That’s Dawnfire’s favorite place to drink. We’ll go there. Definitely."

“Great! I just have to pack up my equipment...” I drawled off, redirecting my attention to cast a bout of magic out over the scattered pots and pans.

“Let me help.”

“Sure.”

In no time the task was completed.

The bar was stifling hot and buzzing with energy. There was no music, but the sheer amount of voices compensated, coming together to give the atmosphere a raucous sort of vibe. I sat beside Balefire, shouting a bit to be heard over the noise.

“So you’ve been making music since you were a foal?”

“Yep,” Balefire replied, puffing out his chest proudly. “Since I could use my magic!” He paused momentarily to take a swig of the cider he was drinking. The heavy shooters would come later on when his brother arrived. “That’s how I got my mark.” He shifted to his side to show the four stringed guitar on his flank.

“Only four strings, not five?” I questioned.

A chuckle from the other unicorn. “My dad used to play the guitar. When I was old enough, he pulled it out and taught me how to use it. The thing is it only had four strings. He damaged it a long time ago, and never really got around to fixing it. He used to tell me that if I could play something well when it was damaged, when the time came for me to get a new one, I’d rock out all the harder!” A sigh. “He was a good stallion.”

“He sounds like it,” I said. “I’d love to meet him one day.”

“I would too.” There was a sudden shift in Balefires mood, he smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry? Didn’t you…”

“He passed away. From Wing Rot.”

“Oh.” I felt like a total idiot. “I’m so sorry. Hopefully it was quick?”

“Not really. The damn infection drew things out. He survived long enough to see his own wings removed. He was, he was… oh, never mind.” Balefire gave a shaky laugh. “You don’t need to know all the details. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” I cooed compassionately. “You’re luckier than me. I’ve never seen my parents.”

“Really? That must be hard.”

“It is. I grew up in an orphanage.” A shadow fell across my face as I recalled my tough upbringing. “It was pretty shitty.” Fearing that my dark memories would put me in a bad mood, I lightened up. “But the past is the past, yes?

“You bet.”

“And we shouldn’t dwell in it too long. What we need to do is look forward to the future! So tell me about this band idea.”

“Oh, I’ll tell ya about the band!” A new voice coming from somewhere behind me made me turn around.

The sight that met my eyes would have definitely given me a wingboner... if I had a pair.

Was this the mysterious Dawnfire?

“Bro!” Balefire exclaimed, rising up from the bar stool to wholeheartedly hug the pegasi.

YES.

“Bale! How ya been doin’ buddy?”

“Really great actually… oh, and this is the filly I was telling you about.” He pointed with a hoof in my direction. “She’s taken up the offer. Or almost so. "A sarcastic glance. “You should hear her play.”

Dawnfire turned to look at me. “I’m damn glad you decided to take up our offer filly. Welcome aboard!”

I went to say something, but my voice caught in my throat, so I just nodded curtly.

Too. Much. Hotness.

“Vinyl and I have been waiting for you to turn up. We’ve got a round of shooters coming, and I knew you’d kill me if you missed out,” Balefire said.

Dawnfire laughed. “Damn right, Bale.” He turned again to me. “You picked the right place to drink, Vinyl; it’s great here. If you’re trying to gain my respect, you’re on the right track.” He nudged me “How does that sayin’ go…?”

“Great minds think alike?” Balefire mentioned before turning back to greet the approaching bartender; exchanging a few words with the well dressed stallion.

“Ya, that one.”

The shot glasses arrived on a silver platter.

***

I had planned on celebrating tonight, and this was a new chapter in my music career… so what the hay?!

“Bottoms up!” I shouted, tipping the strong shooter down my gaping maw.

A cheer from Dawnfire. “You go filly! Damn, how ya holdin’ in that much?”

“Magic!” I exclaimed with a drunken snort of laughter.

Minutes before Balefire had excused himself politely to go to the washroom, leaving Dawnfire and I to talk in private.

“But I think I’m done now.” As if to emphasize my proclamation, I swayed a little on the bar stool I was sitting on.

“Speakin’ of magic, I’m surprised you’re keepin’ it going with all that drink in ya'. Don’t you feel a little tired?”

I nodded. “I do, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. The last three years of busking have really helped me strengthen my magic. I guess that’s one of the good things that came out of it all.”

“One of them?”

“I met you.” I smiled in a way that both gave off a vibe of seduction and content. Dawnfire, being the observant colt that he was, smiled back coyly.

“Now that’s a bold thing to say filly. How do you know I don’t have a mate?”

He was playing hard to get. I'd show him.

“I’m using guesstimation.” I moved in a little, resting my head on his downy chest. He hardly flinched. I grinned. “And now I know.”

“How?”

“You didn’t flinch when I rested my head on you."

“Well, you’re no fun!” he said, wrapping a hoof around me and pulling me close.

“I can be…” I snuggled into him, glowing with an almost electric desire .

Booze had done it for me again, and I'd snared a mighty big bird. Even if things between the two of us stopped the following morning, at least I could have a night.

“…do you want to find out?” Without waiting for his response, I brought an assertive hoof to ruffle the tips of his wings. To my delight, they flared outwards and he sharply inhaled.

“What the hay do you think?” he replied with a shaky smile.

Jumpstart

Awoken by a shaft of brilliant morning light, I opened my eyes. Almost immediately the events of the night prior flooded back to me; both as a glorious memory and a sore back. Rolling over I bumped into somepony else. Dawnfire, tucked comfortably between the downy swaths of bed sheet, stirred but did not awaken. Smiling happily, I parted the covers and swung out of bed, stretching till I heard a few muted cracks. With another yawn I stumbled out of the room and into the kitchen.

Ugh, my head was killing me!

After three hit-and-miss cupboards, I opened the right one and pulled out a cup. Cantering over to the nearby sink, I clicked the tap on and filled it.

“Bout’ time you got up!” A soft voice, laden with the last traces of fatigue, had come to me.

Stopping the flow of water and bringing my cup over to the table, I sat down beside Balefire.

He turned and nodded. “Morning sleepyfilly!” he mused. “I find it funny that I’m as tired as you are. I drank the least and went to bed the earliest… or tried at least. The noises you and Dawn were making last night were rather… raucous. Do you remember much?”

I blushed deeply before answering. “I remember some. I’m sorry if we kept you up.”

Bale diffused my worrying with a modest wave of his hoof. “It’s not a problem. I’ll let it go this time. Lets call it your 'initiation'.” He gave a sly smile. “Or maybe it was Dawn's! It looked like you were the one in control when I last saw the two of you.”

I snickered.

“What goes on behind closed doors, stays there! I’m keeping my lips sealed.”

“Agreed.”

Warm silence sprung up between the two of us; one where I took a few gulps of water, and Bale picked up a pad and pencil in his field of magic. Seeing the writing utensil, I screwed my face up as a question came to me.

“What you got there?”

“Sorry?” Bale turned to look at me again.

“The pad and pencil, what are you writing down?

“Nothing really. Not yet at least. I’m brainstorming.”

“Brainstorming?” I asked.

“Ya, band name ideas. You got any off the top of your horn?”

“Hmm.” I paused momentarily. “How about the Three Musketeers?”

“I’ll write that down… oh, I’ve got one! How about UP-3” As he spoke, he scribbled the name on his notepad.

“What does it stand for?”

“Us ponies three,” he said pointedly.

“That’s a good idea!” Fueled by unbridled excitement I leaned in closer to get a better look at the word. Balefire gagged.

Surprised, I fell back onto my chair. “What?”

“Sorry to tell you, Vinyl, but you stink.”

“Really?” I brought my nose down to sniff my cote.

The off scents of alcohol, rut, and sweat had combined together, creating a disgusting perfume. Now it was my turn to gag. For the second time that morning, I went crimson. “Damn, Bale, you’re right. Might I take a shower?”

“Yes. You can definitely take a shower. It’s just down the hall and on the right... use whatever towel you'd like.

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a bit.” Getting up I finished my water in one gulp and headed down the hall to the washroom, brushing by Bale on my way out.

The softly diffusing glow that emanated from the candles carved Dawnfires features, outlining his square muzzle, his perked silver ears, and his idle wings. However, the center point in which my gaze kept straying back to, was his pure silver eyes. They glowed like miniature moons, and were framed perfectly by his black facial fur.

“So this is our first official date then, right?” He looked around with a playful smile before turning back to gaze at me kindly. “And how the hay did we end up here? All this classiness sure as heck is not ma’ forte. I look ok though, right?”

I hoofed him lightly on the shoulder and laughed. “You look fine, Dawn. How do I look?”

“Vibrant. Like the sun.”

“That’s corny.”

“I thought all the fanciness here was getting’ to ma’ head.”

“Clearly, I’m not the fancy type either,” I replied, fighting off a fit of giggles. "So that makes the two of us, eh?

“Indeed it does filly. I’ll give ma' brother his peace though. He told me to come here with ya, so I did.”

“And you listened to him?” I poked.

Dawnfire shrugged. “He just wants what’s best for me, I think. Did he tell ya that story about our father?” Suddenly solemn, I nodded my confirmation. “I thought he would have. Ever since dad died, well, I guess I’ve been down in the dumps.” A shadow crossed over his face; one that sent fireworks off in my brain.

“You look hurt, Dawn. If you asked me, I’d say you should use your father's memory to drive you forwards, not keep you back.”

“I have.” I wasn't sure if he was agreeing to the former or the latter. What I did know however was that he was holding something back. I shook my head, breaking out into a grin.

In a flash, Dawn was smiling with me.

“Why you smilin’?”

“Because I want to. Because we should be doing more of this, and less of what just went down. Because we both have so much to live for!”

“Ya, ya, I guess you’re right. So, what we orderin’?” It was clear to me that he was consciously trying to change the subject.

“Let’s look at the menu.”

“M’kay.”

A silence fell between the two of us as we scrolled over the options. After a bit, I had decided:

“I think I’m going to have the salade de pissenlits.”

“Ya want to piss in what now?” Dawn exclaimed jokingly.

“Dawn! Geez, don’t make fun of my French!”

“Sorry filly, the opportunity arose. I had to take it.”

“Well then mister, what are you going to order?”

“Salade de Foin.”

“Sounds like groin salad to me.”

This is the moment I have always dreamed of.

Along with Dawn and Bale, I gazed at the assembled audience that pooled around our hooves on the floor below the stage. Looking back at me and his brother, Dawnfire walked to the center and tapped the microphone with his hooves. The rowdy bar audience quieted down a bit.

“Evenin’ everypony! Buckle down because we’re about ta’ start! However I think an introduction is needed. To my left is Balefire, rippin’ it out on the guitar.”

On cue, Balefire played a quick sample, levitating the guitar pick into the air and playing a heart stopping rip-roar.

“To my right we have Vinyl Scratch, a busker from Fourhoof park!” A few cheers from the audience as I was recognized. “This filly is bringin’ it to ya hard… on the drums!”

It was my time to shine now. Improving as I went, I blasted the audience with a quick beat that got them cheering before I even finished (when I did finished, they cheered all the louder).

As the crowd settled, Dawnfire wrapped up his intro. “And I am Dawnfire! Bringin’ this divinity to all your eardrums. Together. We. Are. Up-3!"

Without another moment of hesitation I, cued by a glance from Dawn, began to play. Small red sparks flew from my drumsticks, glowing softly before fading into the air. Down below, a rear hoof began to strike the hoof-peddle, establishing a steady beat and cuing Balefire to start his part. As the first screeching notes came through the amp, a flurry of color rushed out- smashing into my sparks - igniting in a vibrant aura. If I was amazed then, once Dawnfire began to sing, my head exploded. His voice was what I could only call sunlight. It was pure, refreshing, and vibrant, so vibrant. A steady stream of fiery yellow shot out of his mic, colliding into the wall of color that had already been established between Bale and I. This new element tore apart the sheet, sending it shooting across the audience. I bet that if I hadn’t been controlled by my auto drive, I would have stopped playing then and there to gawk.

The audience had different reactions in mind, however. Throughout the duration of the ten song gig they cheered madly, surprised more than anything that such a beginner band could play so well. They danced, they tried to sing along, and when we had finished, they clippity-clopped enthusiastically. The ambiance of so meany cheering ponies was brilliant, and powerful. Smiling ecstatically, Balefire descended into the rallied audience; tip jar hovering in a field of unicorn magic. It rained bits.

***

With the concert over, the majority of the crowd had left, leaving behind a few plastered ponies, and three very exhausted ones. With the adrenalin of performing fading, I found herself struggling to remain upright. As we packed up to leave, the bar owner approached us, taking the time to hoof bump each of us wholeheartedly.

“You guys made the night... by Celestias beard you were phenomenal! Now I don’t know anything about future venues you’re going to be at, but if you’d like, I’d love to have you here in the Drinking Trough at least once a month.”

I knew Balefire was the brains behind the operations, so I promptly stepped down with Dawnfire to allow the well spoken unicorn the time he needed with the owner to make plans.

Turning to Dawn, I smiled.

“So, is this what you expected?”

Dawnfire shook his head incredulously.

“Nope. This was far beyond what I expected. How about you?”

“Same here. I never thought we sounded this good, but clearly, we do.” I paused reflectively for a moment. “I wonder what the future is going to bring if we keep up the talent.”

Dawnfire turned and gave me that winning grin of his. “Let’s dream big! I think we’re goin' ta' become famous- like world famous!”

I returned the look. Sure, I was game.

“Well, I think we’ll become rich. So rich in fact that we could buy a beach side home in the tropics, and have serving ponies, and golden bed sheets!”

Dawn chuckled.

“Not only golden bed sheets filly, hay, with the amount of money we’ll make, we could get gold trimmin’ on our napkins!”

The two of us broke out into a fit of laughter, one that reverberated joyously as it rose to dance in the rafters. The night had been a great, great success. I had been right to accept the offer. This really was a new chapter in my life, and I never wanted it to end.

Changing Times

Flying… I was actually flying!

I spread my hind hooves apart, reviling in the feeling of the late afternoon wind as it rushed by me. Above, the rhythmic wing beats assured me that I was safe.

“We’re almost there. Ya ok down there?” Dawn looked down on me and I craned my neck to meet his brilliant silver gaze.

“More than Ok. I’m so envious that you can come up here whenever you please. It’s…” I paused momentarily as I grasped for the right words “it’s like I’m in Celestia’s Realm.”

A well mannered laugh from above. “I thought you’d like it. I still remember the first time that I flew. Dad took me up in his hooves. We went so high, and I was so afraid.” A warm smile; Dawn’s eyes glazed over. “He reassured me though with this look that only he could pull off. He calmed me right down, yes he did.” A wistful chuckle. “You could only imagine ma' surprise when he dropped me. I was shocked! How could he of used ma' trust so carelessly?”

We were dipping lower. My suspended hooves began to scrape across the cloud cover. Dawn gave a few powerful upstrokes to gain altitude again.

“It was then that I realized that he was fallin' with me as well. He shouted to me over the howlin’ wind; he told me to spread ma' wings and fly. He told me that ma' instincts would kick in once I performed right.”

On the horizon a pointed cliff rose. The rocky protrusion was so tall that it punched a hole right through the cloud cover.

“And when I finally spread ma' wings and felt that wind… Celestia, I can hardly explain to you how good it felt. I was in ma' element, I knew it. All ma' fear left me, all ma' worry. I glided like the sun goddess herself; glided with ma’ dad to the cliff ahead.” He motioned with his muzzle at the mountaintop we were heading too. With the reason behind Dawn’s anecdote reviled, I felt a fit of deep gratification bloom in my heart.

In a graceful move, Dawn spiraled down to hover around the rocky plateau, gently releasing me into a patch of soft moss. Seconds later he was again by my side. Even though I was back on the ground, I still felt like I was flying. A dense layer of fluffy white clouds fifty hoof's down from where I stood hid all traces of the ground world from me.

“By Celestia, it’s so beautiful up here!” I exclaimed, taking it all in with wide eyes.

“Ain’t it? I used to come here often with ma’ Dad.”

“I see.”

“Here, take a gander.” He walked over to a dead tree. The leafless pillar was the only tall piece of foliage in the area. I ambled over to take a peek at what my colt-friend was pointing at. Engraved by what must have been a sharpened stone, two names were carved into the broad trunk:

‘Dawnfire + Bushfire’ and then, fainter and rather sloppy; 'the best dad in the whole wide world!'

Bushfire, so that's the name of the mysterious stallion the two brothers talk so fondly of.

I turned away from the carving to talk, but caught myself as I noticed the tender calm that had smoothed away all emotion from the silver pegasi’s face. In silence, Dawn reached out and stroked the carving lovingly with a steady hoof.

“I miss ya dad,” he mumbled. “I hope they’re treatin’ ya well up there. We’ll meet again though. That I know.”

As quickly as the strange mood had settled over the pegasus, it left and he turned. A wide smile that I could only return split his features, shattering his prior state. I felt a weight lift off my chest. I hated seeing him so distraught.

“But enough of ma' dilly dallyin', I’ve got somethin’ ta' share with ya.”

“Oh really?” I returned.

“You bet Filly! Just sit on down on the moss back there, I have some stuff hidden in this hollow…” his voice drawled off as he searched the tree.

Nodding, I backed up and sat down; allowing the dashing colt to find what he was looking for. After a moment or two a happy “found it!” drew my attention away from the slowly setting sun. When I turned, Dawn was walking towards me, smiling around a bottle of see-through alcohol clenched firmly between his teeth.

I rose an eyebrow. “Suddenly I find myself jumping to the conclusion that bringing me here was not simply a spur of the moment sorta thing.”

“Ya caught me Filly. I set it all up. Damn you’re clever.”

“I know, right?” I smirked, levitating the bottle from his muzzle.

He chuckled and sat down beside me. Using a bout of Unicorn magic, I unscrewed the weighty bottle. As the lid fell off, a sparkling in the hollow of it drew my attention. Words in glossy silver said the following;

Will you marry me?

My maw formed an ‘O’. I was speechless. Shocked. My heart began to flutter. Were my eyes betraying me? I slowly turned to Dawn. He was red with anticipation. When he spoke his voice was soft, and laced with hesitation.

“We’ve known each other for four years now, right? I remember the first time ma' brother introduced you to me; I remember that hot night. The mornin’ after I felt as though I’d made a connection with ya. Ever since then we’ve just gotten closer an' closer.” A moment of reflective silence. “Vinyl, you’ve turned Bale’s and ma' life around, and we are truthfully grateful. If it weren’t for you I don’t know where we would be, where I would be.”

I went to say something, but my voice caught.

Dawn, eager to hear my response, wrapped it up. “I see bright horizons for the two of us, Vinyl; I can see us raising a family together. Will. Will ya marry me?”

Lost in the moment, I began to cry happily. In a swift move Dawn pulled me close to him.

“Hey Filly, you don’t need ta’ cry. It’s all right.”

I nodded and took a few deep breaths, calming down enough to vocalize my answer.

“I will, Dawn. I will.”

That was all the antsy pegasus needed to hear. Like a loaded spring he took off, soaring into the air and circling far above, pulling off flips and twists, shouting his excitement; vocalizing his relief. When the silver pegasus came back to earth, I was concerned that the smile he was sporting would split his face in half.

“I’m so happy! I thought ya' might a turned it down, but ya didn’t, and now, and now. Are we engaged? Sweet Sun Goddess we are. This is… this is…”

“Shh,” I murmured, placing a gentle hoof on the rambling pegasi’s maw. Dawn stilled. Pulling his mouth away he smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry filly. I’m just so excited; aint’ you?”

“You think I’m not?” I replied. “If only you knew how long I’ve been waiting on this day!" I smiled playfully. “Dammit, why did it take you so long to propose?” I hoofed him lightly on the shoulder and he laughed wholeheartedly in return.

“And that’s why I love ya’ filly! You’ve got a good sense a humor.”

“Is that all you love me for, really?” I smirked. “What else?” in a swift move I advanced on him, tipping the bottle and taking a large swing of the drink before passing it on to Dawn.

“Damn Filly. You know what else.” He took an equally large swig of the drink before giving it back.

I took another gulp for good measure before placing the bottle on the rocky ground. The Alcohol rushed to my head, loosening my tongue and activating my assertiveness. All the emotion I'd experienced over the last half an hour rushed back to me in the form of passion. Leaning in I embraced my lover, kissing him roughly. It took ten seconds flat for Dawn to return the embrace, deviously advancing his hooves down my side and towards her flank. I whinnied in excitement.

When I awoke, I immediately took note of three things. It was mid-morning, I smelled like rut… and Dawnfire was breathing irregularly. It sounded like he had a sore throat. Furrowing my brow in concern, I gently nuzzled him awake. Dawn stirred and then his eyes fluttered open. Squinting against the sun above, he smiled lazily up at my silhouetted figure. “Mornin’ filly,” he mumbled, rolling over and onto his chest.

“Morning, Dawn. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, got a little tickle in ma' throat.” He got up and stretched. “Damn filly! You worked me last night.”

I smiled sheepishly. “What can I say… alcohol does stuff to me.”

“Indeed it does! I think I need ta' start storing more bottles of hard cider extract in nooks and crannies.”

I laughed mischievously. “And you don’t have a problem with me leading? A stud like you?”

“Who am I tryin' to prove myself too?” he retorted. “I’m fine takin' the back seat; I get as much of the experience as you anyways.”

“Hmm, whatever. I’m not complaining or anything, just curious.” I stopped momentarily to gaze off into the distance before continuing on a completely new segue. “So, should we head back now?

“Sounds like a plan. I bet about now Bale’s wondering where we’re at.” He began to hover. “You just stand still filly, I’ll take ya.”

Unlike on the arrival, leaving the mountain’s peak was tricky. A brisk crosswind battered my side, splaying my mane wildly in all directions. Brushing a stray strand of horse hair out from my eyes, I shouted up to Dawn, who was flapping madly.

“Dawn! You ok up there?”

“Yup. I’ve braved much worse... trust me. Did ya know I almost made it into Manhattan’s weather control? This here is just some mountain turbulence. Don’t get your tail in a twist.”

It was about five minutes later that a shout from above jolted me out of my daydreaming.

“What?” I shrilled, feeling panic flood into my body. I diden't like the tone of that. “What’s wrong?”

“Ma', ma' wing. Damn I think, I think I twisted it.” With a lurch, we began to lose altitude.

“Huh?” My voice went up an octave to be shrill. “But you said…”

“I know what I said, ok?” His voice rose to meet my own. “But even I can’t predict sudden…” he groaned and flapped upwards, desperate to keep their course. “Gusts,” he finished, pain lacing his voice. He coughed a few times violently.

“I can’t hold us up for much longer, damn, I’m so sorry for this, Vinyl,” he grunted.

"Just get us safely on the ground, ok. I know you can do this. Apologies can come later.” I was shocked that he was apologizing in the midst of all this.

No response from above, but the fact that the dangerous dropping had turned into controlled spiraling confirmed that he had heard me. As we dropped beneath the cloud cover, the expanse of the world unfolded like a map. I felt my spirits sink. We still had a ways to go, and the spiral was already beginning to become sloppy....

“Oh buck!” Dawn shouted before howling in agony.

Another buffeting gust had struck him, totaling his wing completely. One moment I was clenched between the firm grasp of his hooves, the next, I was free falling. The wind rushed up to meet me. Looking to my left I saw Dawn, who must have fallen unconscious as his body registered the immense amount of pain attacking his system.

I have to act, it's now or never.

Calming my nerves the best I could, I unleashed a stream of magic. It spread to first envelop Dawn, wrapping around in turn to cover myself. My head pounded furiously from the exertion. Closing my eyes tightly, I called upon every drop of will to give me the strength to slow my descent. For a few seconds it felt as though my attempts were going to be in vane, however, gradually, thankfully, our momentum decreased. In the span of a minute the two of us had slowed to a stop. Sighing in relief I drifted Dawn to the ground. As soon as I felt my hooves touch, my magic tapered off and I collapsed into a heap. My head felt as though it had been stamped on.

When I finally came to, the silhouette of Dawnfire was looming above me.

“Vinyl? Vinyl?” he cried. Though I couldn't see his expression, I could tell from the way he spoke that he was deeply concerned.

On the third ‘Vinyl’, I roused. "Ya?"

“Thank Celestia you’re ok!” Dawn exclaimed. “What in the name of Luna happened? How did we get down? The last thing I remember is that gust and then… nothin'.”

“I… I carried you.” A shaky breath. “Using my magic.”

“Ya did?!” He sounded amazed. “Damn, so that’s why you're actin' like this. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. Normally I can take a lot more and…”

“Oh, shush you,” I murmured, finding enough energy to give a weak smile. "We’re safe now, and I’m… I’m tired.” As if to emphasize my claim I yawned. “I’m gonna catch some sleep,ok?”

“Take all the rest ya need, Vinyl,” Dawn reassured. “Ya damn right deserve it. Actually…” he sighed as a wave of exhaustion fell over him again. “I think I might catch some sleep as well.” The Pegasus fell down into the warm grass beside me, spent, breathing irregularly.

Tragedy

I'm sitting beside Balefire, sweat dripping from my brow, mind full of butterflies… I felt helpless.

What in the name of Luna and Celestia is going on behind those closed doors of room 626?

The question irked me more than anything.

Why is it taking the doctors so long to analyze Dawn’s broken wing?

Another question, and for this one, I held off trying to answer it myself. I wouldn’t allow my foalish suppositions to get in the way; not until the doctor came out of the room and told me the verdict. Hoofsteps beyond the door made me lean forwards attentively on the bench. Seconds later the hinge swung open, revealing Doctor Gilding. As he approached Bale and I, he took both of us in before speaking.

His voice was even, and calm. “Mister Balefire, I have good news and bad news about your brother.” Beside me, Bale flinched visibly, a shadow crossing over his face. I could practically feel the unicorn’s anticipation. “He seems to have contracted Wing Rot…”

Wing rot. I noticed through the sudden haze of shock that the ominous word had triggered a rapid change in Bale’s demeanor. He cringed and collapsed in on himself, contorting his facial features with a horrific grimace. With Bale down for the count, I pressed in desperation for the good news.

“Ok, so what’s the good news then?” I asked, trying to keep calm for the both of us.

“The good news is that the infection is still in the beginning stages of development, so your friend…”

Mate, dammit.

“…still has a fighting chance.”

At this, Bale perked up. Not thinking to brush the hot tears from his eyes he spoke:

“He has a fighting chance? How much of a fighting chance Doc? They told that to me when my father contracted the infection.” He stood up and took a few bold paces towards the doctor. “And he died.”

Doctor Gilding backed up a bit and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I am not the enemy here colt, I’m your friend. Sit back down before you’re asked to leave. ‘Please’.” He added for good measure.

When Bale remained standing defiantly, I tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned I nodded reassuringly. No words needed to be spoken. Clenching his jaw and slitting his eyes doubtfully, Bale sat back down.

“Thank you.” The doctors comment was directed towards me. “To ensure the greatest success, we’d like to keep him in our care till the worst of this has blown over. Visiting hours are between 8AM and 10PM.”

And with that he walked off, disappearing behind the door he came out from. As soon as the doctor had left, Bale broke down and began to cry. Deep, racking, spasms of misery convulsed his body. Feeling rather numb myself, I leaned in and hugged Bale wholeheartedly. And then reality hit me. As the situation came crashing down on me all at once, I felt a lump of sadness build up in my throat- the fact that Balefire was crying was not helping to keep me even. A tear slid out from my eye, and then another, and another. I began to cry at the unfairness of it all.

Diary entry 1

I don’t really know what to do, how to deal with it all, so I plan to just talk and get it all off my chest. I went out and bought this diary from the store.

Maybe it’ll help? I don’t know. It’s worth a try though.

So let’s see…

It’s been two days now, two horrible days. Bale’s left to the Drinking Trough, and I’m alone. I don’t know why, but it’s like he’s already given up before giving the situation a chance. However, if his predictions are true, by Luna, I think I’ll join him.

Diary entry 5

The legal documents came in the mail today. Bale had to sign and make some calls. I feel so sorry for him. The weight he has to carry… it’s not fair.

Diary entry 15

As time goes by I’ve become rather optimistic. I spent the whole day with Dawn talking about nothing, and it was great! Other then the coughing, he sounded fine. I know he can pull through, he’s damn strong.

Diary entry 20

Celestia save me from this rollercoaster of emotion. I was talking with Dawn today, he was laughing at this one joke I’d said, and then… then he started coughing, really bad. An alarm went off at the side of his bed and two nurses came in. I was shooed out. Bale was with me as well, he resisted when they asked him to leave… I really don’t know what’s gotten in to him.

He’s changed. It’s scary.

Diary Entry 22

It’s been two months and I know I haven’t updated my diary at all recently. It’s not helping, so I think I’m just going to stop after this entry.

Things are bad. I’m scared. When I was spending time with Dawn today I noticed a patch of black flesh on his hind hoof. He tried to hide it from me, but when he started coughing, he covered his mouth and… well.

This means it’s spreading, this means they’re having a harder time keeping the Wing Rot down then they said they would.

This means my mates chances of survival are dwindling. If he dies, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Even though the whitewash lights above the bed were glaring, all I could see was blurry darkness; that kind of darkness that wrapped mercilessly around you, filling the inflicted pony with a painful despair. I gazed solemnly at the rotting hulk that tossed and turned in front of me, sickly amazed by the aftermath that Wing Rot had left. It was evident across his whole body. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. Gruesome looking patches of sticky black decay riddle the length of his flank and chest, elongating and stretching at different places to appear as though it had a mind of its own, and wanted to abolish all symmetry. A pus stained bandage covered the stub where the surgeon had to remove his left wing.

He had already been moved to the intensive care unit, and this was where he would remain till he got better or finally succumb.The thing is, I knew that no amount of luck would get my mate out of the hospital. I brought a hoof up to rub my eyes bitterly; I was such a damn foalish emotional train wreck.

“Filly?” The faint voice came from the bed. With a start, I took my hooves away from my face and looked incredulously at my mate. “Is that you? I can’t see.”

“It is, Dawn,” I said tenderly.

“And where’s my bro?” he questioned.

I flinched. 'He’s drunk and collapsed in the park, cursing profanities at ponies passing by and trying to find a stripper to ram'... like I’d tell him that.

“Bale, oh, he’s asleep at home. He had a late night yesterday.” Ok, so that was a half truth.

“Ha, sound like him. He works hard ya’ know.” Was I imagining it, or did Dawn sound genuinely amused?

Just agree with him, Vinyl.

“Yes he does,” I replied, conjuring fake thoughtfulness.

In all truth, I’d lost a lot of respect for Bale. He’d taken the whole situation so poorly. He should have been here today, however, instead he chose to get plastered again and skip the whole ‘final meeting’. I hated the emphasis on final meeting. But it was the reality present. The infection had won, even with the advantage the doctor had with early detection. It was only a matter of time.

“How, how are you doing?” I questioned. Of course I knew, the evidence was as clear as day; but Dawn hadn’t spoken to me in the last week and I was desperate to hear his voice.

“How does it look like.” The comment, on the surface a line of sarcasm, had a prominent undertone of despair. “I’m dying, just like ma' dad. I guess I’m gonna be seein’ him sooner then a thought, eh?”

I tapped my rear hooves uncomfortably on the wooden floor. I absolutely hated when Dawn spoke like that. It kept reminding me of how little time the two of us had left together.

“I’ll tell him ya’ said hi, m’kay?”

“Sure, Dawn.”

A moment of silence.

“Ya know that once I die I become an angel?” he eventually said.

“Yes.” I didn’t really believe in that sort of thing, but I wasn’t going to start pushing my beliefs on somepony that was about to find the truth of it all.

“But I won’t be a normal angel, no way filly; I’ll be a guardian angel. From way up there.” He tried to bring a hoof to point at the ceiling, but failed halfway and brought it back down to his side. “From way up there I’ll be lookin’ down on you and ma’ brother. I’ll keep ya’ll safe.”

I felt another spurt of crippling emotion. If it weren’t for the fact that I had to be strong for the both of us, I would have probably started sobbing again.

“I bet you will, Dawn, I bet you will.”

A shuffling from behind me, and the door to the room opened. A nurse walked in and placed a gentle hoof on my shoulder.

“Miss Vinyl?”

“Yes, Nurse Redheart?”

At about this point in time I had gotten to know the staff keeping care of Dawnfire. Nurse Redheart was an apprentice to Doctor Gilding, not much older than me really. Out of all the others, Nurse Redheart was the pony I had gotten the closest to.

“Visiting hours are done.”

A question heaved forwards into my throat, but I kept it down.

“Might I stay for a few more minutes? The doc said it’d probably be my last chance to spend time..." I took a pained breath. "My last visit with my mate.”

Compassion crossed over Redheart’s face, and she nodded understandingly. “Of course, Vinyl, I’ll come back in five minutes.” With a nod, the nurse left the room.

I turned back to Dawn. “Hey, Dawn?” No response from the colt; he was shivering bitterly and wheezing.

“This is probably going to be the last time I see you, the last time I… oh Luna, I can’t bare it!” I moaned, smashing the ground bitterly with my hind hooves, and shoving my rear one's into my muzzle to stop myself from breaking out into tears again. “I just, I just wanted…”

“Shush you.” Slowly, Dawn's hoof rose to rest on my shoulder; the touch was like electricity. “We’re safe now, but damn, am I tired.”

I looked up from the ground and into the pegasi’s silver eyes. They were glazed over with blindness, but they still retained that wonderful color I had fallen in love with. It all went to remind me that a mere two months back, he was a fully functioning pony with a sense of humor and a love for life. Funny how quickly things can change.

“I’m tired.” Dawn’s hoof fell from my shoulder to hang limply over the side of the bed.

Silence.

“No, no don’t fall asleep!” I exclaimed desperately. “Stay with me a bit longer, please.”

The duration of silence lengthened. His breath was shallow. By the time the nurse arrived he had fallen into a coma induced stupor. Closing my eyes I allowed the nurse to escort me out.

Octavia

Why is he acting like this?

I turned to confront the red-faced unicorn in front of me. There was no way I’d let him push me around.

“Listen to yourself, Bale!” I shouted, standing up.

He rose to meet me. “No, Vinyl, you listen to yourself! Seriously, what in the name of Luna made you think that things would just go back to how they were? Have you forgotten my brother just died?”

“What a stupid question!” I retorted. “It’s because I know he’s dead. That's why I’m asking you now!”

For the first time in a while, Bale didn’t shoot back. I took that opportunity to continue, willing my tone to soften.

I paused momentarily, searching for the next words. “So what if we don’t have a singer! We have each other and the talent that we’ve been given. Do you really think he’d like to see us at each other’s throats? He wouldn’t, Bale. He would want us to continue with the band.”

After taking another swig of his drink, Bale found his voice again. “That’s corny horse manure, Vinyl, he’s dead… he doesn’t give a buck what goes on now.”

I just couldn't let Balefire waste himself away. As much as I hated him now, he was like a brother to me, and in all truth, he was all I had left.

Trying to keep calm, I spoke. “Bale, you have to learn to cope. Dawn’s been gone for a month now, and you still act as if it happened yesterday…”

“Shut up!” he howled suddenly, making me sit back down on my haunches in surprise. He got up from his own chair and advanced on me aggressively. I was afraid he was going to hit me. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Out of all the assaults of anger and hate I’d deflected in the last hour, this one blew through my defense and struck me in the heart.

How dare he?

“What?” I growled, losing control of my emotions then and there. “I don’t understand? You take that back, Bale! While I was sitting at your brothers bedside, watching him die, you were out drinking!” I pushed up from my chair and put my nose against his. “I don’t think you understand.”

He went deathly quiet. I could tell a dangerous amount of rage was building up behind his façade.

Woops.

“Bale…?” I squeaked, my anger dissolving into fear. “Bale I’m…” when the first hoof hit my head I reeled, falling over the back of the chair I was sitting on. As the second hoof came down on me, I rolled out of the way, narrowly dodging the strike. “Bale!” I shouted, moving out of the way of yet another attempt, “Bale, what the buck are you doing?” Without a word he fixed me in a hateful gaze and advanced.

I scurried backwards to get away from him, using the chair I’d been sitting on to give me some cover. Instead of moving around the seat that now blocked him from getting at me, he picked it up in a field of red unicorn magic and tossed it aside. It sailed through the air before smashing against the refrigerator. Seeing his approaching figure, I tried to retreat further, but my tail hit the wall. I was trapped.A few more paces and he was looming above me; his head was silhouetted by the hanging light fixture. He reared up, and I covered my face with my hind hooves to protect myself. When he came down to finish me off, I cringed fearfully. To my surprise, instead of the strike hitting home it smashed into the floor a mere inch away; the bang echoed around the trashed kitchen.

“I’m leaving, Vinyl,” He grumbled, his anger dispersing as quickly as it had arrived. “If I stay around for much longer, I’ll just end up hurting you.” He looked away.

Shaking visibly I got up, placing a hoof on his shoulder. When he turned to gaze at me, I could see the tears. They sparkled like crystals in the corners of his eyes. It was clear that he regretted his behavior. “You can keep the house. Clearly, you’re the better off one of the two of us. Stay as long as you can pay the rent.”

“Where are you going?” I wanted to say more, I wanted to explain how much he meant to me, how he was like a brother and how if he left, I would have nothing again; however, something held me back.

“A little settlement on the outskirts of town, Stallionshire, it’s where I was born. Have you heard of the place?”

I shook my head.

“Well that’s where I’m going. There’s nothing left for me here, Vinyl."

I’m something! The voice in my head screamed at him.

“At least you’ll have ponies there that’ll keep you safe,” I whispered, trying to feign encouragement.

“Hardly so, but in the least I’ll be back with my family… or what’s left of it,” he murmured before turning away from me and cantering over to the door.

As he opened it, revealing the streets of Manehatten, foggy and bathed in the diffused glow of early morning, he turned back to me for a final time.

“Thanks for the ride, Vinyl. I’m… I’m sorry it ended up this way.” He took in a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself to continue. Instead, however, he sighed and looked away from my face and at the faded horizon in front of him. “I have to go, goodbye.” He left without waiting to hear my response.

When the door slammed shut behind him, I collapsed. The hard reality that I was on my own again, as if I’d never met Bale and Dawn, as if I was never part of their band, numbed me into a cold stupor. I was hopelessly, blatantly, alone.

***

Even after a few drinks, I was still feeling depressed. I just couldn’t accept the reality present at the moment. In a foalish manner I kept shooting glances towards the entrance of the Drinking Trough, expecting Bale to walk in with a smile across his face and say it was all set up; that his brother was alive and that they had a venue planned for tomorrow night.

“You called me over?” The bartender, a new pony I hadn’t seen before tonight, drew my attention away from the doorway.

“Yes, I’d like another drink please. The same as before,” I replied, trying to smile; I failed miserably.

*ding*

The ringing at the entrance made me turn suddenly. An earth pony cantered in, shaking a thin layer of rain from her coat. Something about her stood out from the rest of the ponies that sat in groups around the dimly lit pub. I suspected it was the fact that, unlike the majority of customers the bar was serving, this filly was gray; a very unconventional coat color. I watched her intently as the she stopped and scanned the sitting place; she seemed to be looking for a spot. Turning away momentarily, I took note that beside me there was just that.

“Filly!” I shouted before realizing that I had. I caught myself. It was too late. Her gaze slid across the room and rested on me. Figuring I’d already been heard, I brought a hoof up and waved. She started making her way towards the bar stool beside mine.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. Her voice held an interesting quality; it was young, authoritative, and… repressed?

The bartender, my drink levitated carefully in a field of magic, approached the new customer.

“And you, what would you like to drink?”

“A glass of Sangiovese, please,” she said without hesitation, pronouncing the name perfectly.

All I understood from that was the name of the drink rhymed with please.

“Say what now?” the bartender grumbled, placing my drink down in front of me.

“It’s wine.”

“Well, we don’t have any.”

“You don’t? Bother. Alright, how about a Chardonnay?” Her voice had taken a hoity-toity tone that grated on my nerves.

“Nope.”

“Syrah?”

“Nope.” Some nearby colts who were overhearing the preposterous drink names began to snicker.

“A…”

I turned and looked incredulously at the gray filly. Feeling merciful, I mentioned;

“You might be in the wrong place, ma’am. This is the Drinking Trough, not the Spangled Stable. All they sell here is hard cider and light.” What I didn’t say was how badly I wanted her to go. I didn’t like the attention she was drawing.

She turned to me with a mischievous smile, a reaction I was not expecting in response to my comment.

“Sorry, did I miss a joke?” I asked, feeling insecure.

“Not at all… I’m just messing with you,” she said pointedly, turning to the equally confused bartender. “Give me a hard cider, please.” Her voice had returned to normal. Taken aback, I shifted my weight onto my hunches and looked her over.

“Well, it worked,” I finally said, allowing the ghost of a smile to appear on my muzzle.

“I know,” she replied, retrieving the drink from the bartender and downing it in one go.

Wow.

“And you can drink,” I mumbled.

“Yes,” she said. “Clearly.” From the way she spoke, to the point and concise, I suspected she wanted me to ask her something.

“So… what’s your name?” I said, taking a stab.

“Zanger Octavia, but I prefer everypony to call me Octavia.”

“A fancy name,” I observed.

“Respectably given to me by a fancy mother and father,” She countered.

So that’s how she knew all those wine names.

“Your from the upper class sector on Golden Hoof?” It was a guess, but an educated one at that. Golden Hoof was the closest ‘elevated’ neighborhood in the city.

“Yes, though I don’t like telling ponies that. It’s hard enough to escape my parent’s scrutiny for a night. Do you know the extents I went too to just come here?”

“No.” However, I was interested; I liked this curious filly more and more every second. Funny how opinions can change so suddenly. A pit formed in my stomach as I recalled Bales transformation over the last month.

As if sensing my bleak recollection, Octavia’s tone changed. “I think you need a drink,” she stopped long enough to hail the bartender over, “a strong one at that. I heard the news about your band.” Her words made me perk up visibly.

The very realization that I was known further then the confines of lower class pubs overwhelmed my prior despair.

“You know about Up-3?” I said, my eyes widening.

“Ya, I went to one of your venues about a year ago. You guys rocked!” Her excitement faltered momentarily. “What happened?”

No amount of drink would loosen me up enough to explain to Octavia the details, so I just shrugged.

“Life happened,” I replied simply. I could tell she understood I didn’t want to expand.

Quickly, she changed the topic. “Well I think you have an immense amount of talent. I’m guessing now that your band days are over you’ll be attending the Academy?”

In response, I screwed up my face.

“Sorry, what are you talking about?”

“You mean you don’t know?” For a second I suspected she was bugging me again, but her tone quickly abolished that hypothesis.

“No, I don’t,” I said, feeling rather foalish.

“Manhattans Music Academy, of course!” she exclaimed.

“Never heard of it,” I admitted.

“I’m surprised. Hasn’t anypony recommended the place to you? Your father or mother possibly?”

A shadow crossed over my face.

“I don’t have any family, Octavia. Bale and Dawn were all I had.” When she gave me a questioning stare, I clarified: “Balefire and Dawnfire were the other members of the band.”

Now it was Octavia’s turn to be embarrassed. “Of course, I can’t believe I forgot… it’s just been some time now. Actually, I forget your name as well. What is it again?” she asked sheepishly.

“Vinyl Scratch. However, Vinyl will do just fine,” I replied with a smile.

“Vinyl it is,” Octavia replied. “So, Vinyl, since nopony has said it yet, I recommend you look at getting a degree in the Musical Academy. With all the money you must have made in the band, I’d imagine you could afford the first year at least.”

The offer was tempting, but the notion of gaining a formal education was intimidating.

“Here,” she said, reaching into her saddle bag and pulling out a card in her teeth; I took it from her with a bout of levitation. “It’s their business card. All the contact info can be found on the back.”

I flipped the card over and read.

“Thank you,” I said. “But I don’t think I’m up to doing something like that.” I levitated the card back into her pack.

“Why?” She looked crestfallen. “You more than qualify.”

“I might, but I don’t have any money. The little I have is going to go into getting myself a home in that motel by Fourhoof Park.”

“But…”

“I’m sorry, Octavia, but it’s just not possible. Besides, I’m a busker at heart. I’ll fail miserably at anything formal. Did you know I don’t even know the names given to the different tones and methods in which I’m playing?” From the way she gawked, it was clear she hadn't.

“Really? Well then that’s even more spectacular! You’re a natural, Vinyl, embrace it!” she said exuberantly.

Again I shook my head “As natural as I might be, I don’t think I’m prepared to tackle a formal education.” I really doubted my ability, obviously. I was hiding behind the reassurance of my own stubbornness to change. I’d already taken a leap of faith once, and look where that got me.

Nowhere.

Music Academy

So I was finally here, cantering down the hallways I’d only ever seen in pictures, hearing the disjointed yet melodic bouts of music that I’d only learnt about in conversation, catching the glimpses of ponies in groups behind propped open doors playing like I’d only ever read about. It was almost surreal. The narrow hallway I walked down was laden with the portraits of past musicians and the roof above me was aged stone. The building prided its ancient roots, set back in the Dark Age of Equestria, a time when Manehatten was being built to shelter the casualties of war. Apparently, the music academy had been the headquarters for the city council before Manhattan’s ministry building was built.

Turning around a final corner I stopped in front of a door. To the left of it a small silver plaque with the numbers 1003 had been mounted. Pulling out the map, I double checked that I was at the right room. My one hoof traced an imaginary line between the number and the legend at the bottom right of the map.

“Perfect,” I mumbled to myself, folding the laminated paper back up and placing it in my saddlebag. I was in the right place.

As the lesson went on and I got ahead in my writing, I had the time to look around at my peers. Almost immediately I spotted Octavia, writing furiously with a pencil in her clenched jaw. As before, her grayish coat had made her stand out. She still hadn’t noticed me yet.

However, another individual, a griffon, placed in the back of the room to not obscure anyone’s view of the professor, also drew my gaze. I’d never seen one before, so I was interested. He was lean, his head and front hooves were that of an eagle, however, as if Celestia had decided that a large four legged bird alone would not suffice, the second half of his body was that of a lion. As I prolonged my gaze the griffon looked up from his paper to stare back. Blushing, I ducked down and got back to concentrating on the professor.

“…Filly’s and Gentlecolt’s, this concludes today’s lessons on tempo, tune and improve. To wrap up the session, I’d like to try a little game with you to see what you’ve learned. Please, everypony group up in pairs and wait for further orders.” In response, the class sprung up enthusiastically.

Making my way through the congregating crowd, I spotted a glimpse of an eagle’s wing through the milling ponies. Smiling, I altered my path and headed in the griffons general direction. As I approached he gave me an amused smile and spread his wings.

“By Gadania’s downy feathers pony, are you sure about pairing up with me? I might eat you, because, ya know, I’m a griffon.”

“Eat me?” I countered. “Well I’d be rather unsatisfying. However, if you’re hungry, I’d recommend our prof…”

This elicited a brief chuckle from the griffon.

“I like you already pony.” He looked down at me from around his beak, fixing me in a stare. “What’s your name?”

“Vinyl,” I said. “And you?”

“Orrick,” he replied, bumping my hoof with his talon. “Do you have any idea what the game is going to be about?” I shook my head.

As if on cue, the professor spoke up again. “Now that you’re all together I’ll explain what you and your partner are going to be doing. Working as a team, you’ll compete against the other pairs in an improved musical showdown. I’ll rate your performance based off what we learned today in the session; the team with the highest score goes on to the next round. To prepare, I’ll give you five minutes to plan, use it wisely.”

Oh, it’s on.

I turned back to Orrick. “Are you prepared?”

“Am I a griffon?” he replied, smiling wickedly.

Half an hour before this point, I would have never believed that Orrick was sane. When I had asked him what his instrument was, he pointed to his feathered head. At the time, obviously, I was peeved. I’d developed a slightly competitive mindset ever since I returned to busking at Fourhoof, and had to compete with another musician over the flow of bits. When the first round started, I was already in the mindset that we had lost. You could only imagine the magnitude of awe I felt when Orrick started playing, or singing, I guess, like Dawn had done, except the griffon rhymed every line, giving his lyrics a bite. I would later learn, in the break between round two and three that the rhymed singing Orrick was doing was called rap… and by Celestia I liked it!

Over the course of two more rounds, I slowly got the hang of beating my drums to match the tempo that Orrick was rapping at. Working together, we eliminated all the other pairs; or almost all, that is. One team stood up to us, effectively crushing our show. It consisted of, to my amazement, Octavia and some colt, Flam, if I remember correctly. And now the final round was about to start, and I’d get a second shot at taking that team out.

I turned to Orrick. “Alright, I think it’s safe to say we’ve gotten our battle plan set. For this final round, rap as fast or as slow as you need to, I’ll keep up. We’re going to hit them hard and fast. Octavia might play a wicked double bass solo and Flam might drop the best choruses, but we can crush that with hard hits and sharp words… right?”

“Yep, that just about sums it up.” The griffon cracked his back and stood up as the prof summoned us to the front of the classroom.

“Then by Celestia, let’s do this.” I got up with him and together we met Octavia and her partner.

“Good, in five seconds, the final round shall begin,” the prof said; his voice was carried easily over the hushed crowd. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Orrick, Vinyl... begin.”

“We’ll look what we’ve got here Vinyl,

A colt with his ass on trial.

And a filly,

But really,

It’s silly.

She thinks rap is out of style.”

Smiling, I started beat matching, bending the sound of the drums to fit perfectly in tune with Orrick’s Lazy pace.

“But these are cub’s rhymes,

And it’s about time,

That we switch up the beat a bit.

So buckle down you posers,

And let the real bulldozers,

Show you how it’s done.”

I quickened the pace, forcing back my auto drive from making me shoot out on another tangent. Orrick was the center of attention now.

“I draw crowds like The Wonderbolts,

Lyrics that blaze like thunderbolts,

I shine like Celestia,

Ya,

I’m gonna get the best of ya,

Octavia,

You better drop that cello and start runnin’,

Prepare yourself, for an imminent second comin’,

And by Gadania’s tail feathers,

I’m coming in hot.”

I stopped drumming. We’d done our three verses, now it was our opponents turn. The crowd erupted into an explosion of cheering. We’d brought down the roof! As the crowds roaring died down to an energetic murmur, Octavia started up. She seemed unfazed by Orrick’s instigation.

The first note she played seemed to cut through thin air. It was the sound of such total delicacy, like glass, or a thin sheet of ice. However, from the second note on, her tempo increased into a catchy tune that reminded me of the lute playing busker back at Fourhoof. When Flam started singing, he rhymed, but it wasn’t rap. In was jazzy, melodic, yet riddled with an undertone of clever rhetoric.

"I’m no detective, with a pipe and a hat.

But it’s easy, for me to see, where… you exactly lack.

We beat you once, with our sweet tune,

We’ll beat you again, till you swoon,

So buckle down, incoming doom, by Celestia, we're about to seize the room!”

On cue, Octavia broke out into a jiving cello solo that put anything I did a minute before to shame. It was fast paced and turbulent, a level of skill I’d never thought a pony without the aid of magic would be able to do on an instrument of that sort. I sat back on my haunches and stared in amazement as the gray filly played. Flam started up again.

“Octavia and I, were the pinnacle of power,

Your weakling ‘rap’; it’s... gone sour,

Take your spotlight for an hour,

Don’t cower, don’t go.

Sit back and enjoy the show.”

Octavia and Flam came together in harmony, the cello accommodating his voice like red wine and brie cheese.

“Let me tell you a story about a fledgling filly,

She was a pegasi; prime and pretty.

Oblivious to the fact, that there was a world below,

Hidden from her by clouds, as white as snow.

Until one day that filly, did something really silly,

Fell through the cloud cover, landed in a city,

Ruin and rubble; degraded as can be.

Fallout Equestria was her reality.”

As the song ended, the crowd was silent. It wasn’t a disapproving silence… everypony- and griffon – Orrick was amazed as well, were stunned; and I couldn't blame them. I turned to the prof, who had cantered up to stand between us and the other team. In a field of unicorn magic he hovered a piece of paper.

After clearing his throat he spoke. “Vinyl and Orrick. I have to say, I was deeply impressed with how well you two worked together. Your teamwork ability was flawless, even though it took a few rounds for you two to really start working together. This is how life is. When you graduate from the academy, you might be doing collaboration pieces with ponies that you don’t know, and maybe don’t like. As for the music itself, Orrick, your sharp rhymes and aggressive passion was thrown very effectively over the audience, we don’t have meany rappers here at the academy, actually, I think you might be the only one at the moment… please keep it up. Vinyl.” He turned to me. “Your drum work needs some improvement,”

Wait, what?

“But you grasp the concepts very well. A few extra practice sessions, and you’ll be prime.” This threw me off. I needed clarification. The colors in my head were so perfect this time, even though I never had the chance to actually start ‘drawing’ a picture yet.

“Sorry, Professor Treble, could you clarify exactly where I slipped up?”

“Sure. You used a little too much repetition in your beat.”

“But I had to keep a steady pace for Orrick,” I retorted.

“Yes, that’s true. But steadiness does not always mean repetition. The only thing you should be repeating is the kicker at the bottom of your drums.”

I went to object, but Orrick nicked me with one of his talons. I bit my tongue.

“Thank you professor,” I mumbled. Sitting back down.

“Now, as a whole, you and Orrick did excellently. I give you an eight out of ten.” I felt my face go red; I knew I could have done so much better. I felt like a total failure.

As if sensing my sudden change in mood, Orrick turned to fix me in a determined stare.

"Rapping is a hard genre of music to perfectly beat match with. If you’re this hard on yourself, all it’ll lead to is your own destruction.” He paused momentarily, as if deciding whether or not to tell me something.

“I had a friend,” he started off slow, apprehensive, “who lost himself to making music. Believe it or not, too much of anything, even composing, can be bad. For a week he locked himself in his room and slaved away at the song he claimed was going to be the best the world had ever heard. He was like a griffon out of Hades. He would only come out to eat, and he didn’t sleep. When he finally finished his song, and put it up online, it didn’t come close to being the best, actually, all it really drew was critics and a few followers. Instead of listening to what the critics had recommended, he lashed out at them, calling them idiots. To put is short, he was enraged, and flew into a fury that eventually got him kicked out of his house. On the streets of Manehatten, he got into all the wrong stuff. Eventually, after a drug deal gone wrong, he was left to bleed out in some alleyway.” He stopped momentarily, and I, darkly interested, tempted him to go on with a hoof wave. “Lucky for him, he was found before he could die and fixed up. After he was let out of the hospital, he went back home to his parents. They let him back in, and he began making music again, rapping…” the hushed air about Orrick disappeared as he turned his attention away from me and too the professor. He was giving our opponents his final mark.

As if I’d just resurfaced from the murky depths of a lake, I snapped back to reality and turned to gaze intently at Octavia. I could tell she was nervous.

“…and my final mark for Octavia and Flam is a nine out of ten.” As if the weight of the world had just been lifted off of her back, the gray filly enthusiastically hoof-bumped her partner and smiled brilliantly.

Bridge: Catalyst

I whistled to myself as I walked down the familiar halls of Manehattens Musical Academy. At this time of night they were abandoned, however, I caught the occasional whine of a violin, or the beat of a drum coming from some of the rooms that I passed by. My room was on the second floor, and at the end of the main hall, nearby Orrick’s chamber. Octavia slept all the way on the other side of the building, which was rather inefficient, especially since the two of us had become very good friends. Yawning from exhaustion, I finally made it to my door; unlocking it with a swipe of my card. After hearing the affirmative beep, I swung the door open and stepped inside. The lights flicked on, except, I wasn’t the one to hit the switch.

What in the name of…?

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” Octavia and Orrick came together in harmony as they sung festively, brightening up the room with their enthusiasm. I tried to hide the blush by covering my face with my front hooves; however, it probably glowed right through, so I gave up and just beamed. “Happy birthday dear Vinyl, happy birthday to you!” As the last remnants of the song echoed around my chambers, I galloped into Octavia, hugging her wholeheartedly before moving on to Orrick. He was a little too tall from me to reach his shoulders, so I just nuzzled his downy chest feathers to show my affection.

“Wow, I was not expecting this!” I exclaimed, feeling tears of happiness brim up in my eyes.

“Why not? It is your birthday, Vinyl!” Octavia exclaimed.

I kicked the ground bashfully.

“Would it be weird if I told you that in the last twenty six years of my life, I’ve not celebrated my birthday once?”

“Yes,” Orrick replied pointedly. “But, since this is the case present, I think we should throw a party for you, a big one, so that it covers all the others you missed.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…” I replied bashfully.

“Nonsense!” Octavia piped in. “We’d love to!” She paused momentarily and looked around. As her eyes honed in on something, her face lit up.

“What?” I questioned, trying to see where she was looking. I couldn’t.

“We’ve got something for you, Vinyl,” Orrick said, drawing my attention away from my search and towards his handsome face.

“You do?”

“Yes!” Octavia said from somewhere behind me. From the way her voice echoed, I guessed she was in the kitchen. Moments later, she was back by my side, a wrapped box at my hooves; or should I say, a half beaten, half tattered box at my hooves.

As if reading my mind, Octavia spoke up timidly. “I hope you don’t mind the job we did, bird beak over there decided to join in and well, those talons of his…”

“Octy!” Orrick glared at his friend in mock annoyance. “It’s not like you tried to stop me, and besides, the job you did wasn’t much better.” He turned to me with a beaky grin “You see those dents?” I nodded. “Well, that was Octavia’s doing.”

“Well at least…” Octavia began; I stopped her before they started at each other’s throats.

“I really don’t care guys. In all truth, I’m just happy you actually got me something.” I pulled off the tattered and beaten wrapping. Underneath, a cardboard box was reviled. It was large, a little longer then my body, and rather heavy.

“What in the name of Celestia is it?” I questioned, puckering my lips.

“Open it up and you’ll see!” Orrick said, reinforcing his claim by pointing at the present.

Shrugging, I used my unicorn magic to take off the tape and open the flaps. Beneath, a bubble wrapped device lay. It was slanted and rectangular. On top, two medium sized circular platforms were divided by an array of buttons and switches. On the downhill side of the device, the words ‘Mixmaster V2.0’ had been stenciled on in digital blue letters. Feeling rather stupid, I turned to my friends.

“So what is it?”

Orrick rolled his eyes.

“It’s a mixer. You plug your iPony into that jack you see beside the title, and it uploads your songs into the device. Then, using the interactive screen...” He stopped and pulled up a smaller device I’d missed. “On this, you create a set list. After everything is uploaded, you mix up the songs with the two turntables, and the buttons and switches.”

I nodded slowly, trying to keep up. Deep down, I knew that I probably wouldn’t use such a complex device, however, I wouldn’t spoil the moment.

“So pretty much you upload songs into this thing and then mash them up?” I clarified.

“Yep. Simple… right?” Orrick said.

“Kind of…” I drawled of.

Not really.

“Oh, I think you’ll get the hang of it.”

DJ Pon-3

It’s the early morning, and I’m sitting opposite from Octavia. She’s sipping at a cup of coffee and looking out the window reflectively.

By Celestia, I adore that filly.

Ever since the end of last semester, a time when Octavia’s old roommate had left and she moved in with me, we’d just gotten closer. Octavia was an interesting pony, to say the least. Growing up in a rich family, she had had things pretty good. Her mother was a defense attorney, and her father was a decorated soldier. Knowing that Octavia wouldn’t be suitable for war, her mother tried to make a lawyer out of her. Octavia, however, wanted to become a great musician. At first- and I found this rather funny -she started playing the electric guitar. When her parents found out about this however they were appalled and made her to stop. Feeling as though she had nowhere else to turn, she took up her mother’s offer and started becoming a lawyer. Mere weeks after Octavia had been forced to stop playing, she and her family had gone to an orchestral performance in Fourhoof.

I remember the night when Octavia had told me about her life story; she had gone into so much detail about that performance. She seemed convinced that that had been the big turning point in her life. She explained to me that at the end of the show a lone cellist played for the audience. The noise struck a chord in her heart, and she almost instantaneously longed to play the instrument. After much bribing on her behalf, her parents eventually got her a teacher. She told me that from then on, she’d only gotten better and better. Eventually, seeing their child’s acceleration as a cellist, her parents decided to pay for her education at Manehattan's Musical Academy. The rest was history.

“Vinyl?” Octavia asked suddenly, turning away from the window to look at me. “What are you planning on doing for your summative?”

“I don’t know, maybe throw a gig at Hoofbeat?” That was a rave club in downtown Manehatten. “And you?”

“I’m torn between the Golden Dome and the Masquerade.” Those were orchestral houses.

“I think you’ll bring the roof down at either,” I admitted.

“You think?” She blushed.

“I know. I have a feeling that either place would love to have you.”

Still blushing, Octavia hoofed me lightly on the shoulder.

“Well just listen to you, miss flatterer. You’re too kind.”

I laughed jovially.

“I’m just being truthful. I’ve heard you play; you’re really good.”

A warm silence descended between the two of us; one which Octavia eventually broke.

“Don’t DJ’s need stage names?”

“I guess so.” I puckered my lips thoughtfully. “I never really thought I’d need one.”

“Well you do; how about Dat Rava?”

“Dat Rava? Now where in the name of Celestia did you come up with that?”

Really, where?

“I don’t know, it sounded cool,” Octavia replied, looking wounded.

“It sounds like I’m a griffon,” I exclaimed.

“Well then. Since it seems like you’re brimming with ideas, do you have any better names?” she asked crossley.

“Imcoolerthenoctavia; yes, I like that one. What do you think Octy?” I smiled mischievously at my friend.

“I think I should hit you, that’s what. How about Imnothingincomparisontooctavia.”

“Meh… too long,” I said, denying her the satisfaction of taking the bait.

Scowling, she raised a hoof to hit me. A voice from a few paces away made her stop.

"Is this what you fillies get up to when I’m not around: physical combat?” Yawning, Orrick stumbled over to our table. “How in the name of Gadania do you two get up so early?”

“Magic,” I replied sarcastically. Quickly, I changed the topic: “Octavia and I are trying to decide on a stage name for me. Do you have any ideas?”

Orrick shrugged.

“No, but I do have some advice. Before I tell you that however; are we talking about the final summative assignment? The one you need to complete to graduate?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Sure. If I were to give you my two bits of advice I’d tell ya to draw on past and present experiences. A stage name should represent you; the trials and tribulations that you as a musician had experience and are experiencing right now.”

I took this advice to heart and looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

What in my past did I struggle through?

Almost immediately, Dawn and Bale came to mind. I clearly recall the name of our band and the pain I felt as it was forcefully broken apart.

“So you remember something then?” Orrick asked; I must have been showing the telltale signs of recollection across my face.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “I used to be part of this band. Up-3. One of our members was hit by Wingrot though, so we had to break up.”

“Up-3, what does it stand for?” Orrick questioned.

“Us ponies three.” I sighed deeply. Emotions and memories began floating to the surface; I fought to suppress them.

“Interesting,” Orrick said pointedly, unfazed, neutral; if only he knew how painful it was for me to remember. “Try coming up with a name based off the word then. That way you’ll be something of a prodigy; a living symbol that will immortalize all that your old band worked for.”

I nodded slowly; it was a good idea.

“I’ll see what I can come up with. Octy?” I turned to her.

“Yes, Vinyl?”

“Do you have a pen?”

“I think I do.” She reached into her saddlebag and after a bit of rummaging, pulled out one.

“Perfect!” I said, taking it from her with my magic. Floating the receipt from our breakfast, I used the back of it to jot down some notes. To start I wrote down the band name- and then what it stood for. Sticking my tongue out in concentration I started jotting down alternatives. After a bit I had a small list. Looking up I took note that Orrick had sat down and ordered a coffee.

“Alright, I have some ideas. Can I bounce them off you guys?”

“Sure!” They both said in unity.

“Ok. U-pon3, Down-3, Pownie, Pon-3 and Rep-2. Which one sits well? Personally, I’m leaning towards U-pon3. My reasoning; it could stand for once upon a time there were 3, or ‘you pony’.”

“Hmm, I sorta like Pownie,” Orrick admitted. “I think its smart how you fit in the short form of pownage. Your beats do pown.”

“I don’t know...” Octavia mentioned. “Pon-3 sounds the best to me. DJ Pon-3. I like how you kept the spirit of the three band members; you, Dawn, and Bale- that were their names, right?”

I nodded, biting my lip.

“I like how you took the pronunciation of ‘three’, and turned it into a ‘y’ sound… ‘pony’. It’s like you’re representing the three of you as one entity.”

I let her words soak in; she did have a point. After a few minutes of pondering I’d decided.

“Pon-3 it is then. DJ Pon-3.”

As the cage rose and the audience came into view, I was struck both by a nervous apprehension and an electric excitement. The reality that this was my audience was almost too hard for me to believe. I’d made the phone calls, done the paperwork, and now I’d be able to perform.

I’d only just started using my turntable, though I had to admit, it was a bloody fun device to mess with. The night before I’d thrown together a setlist, a collection of my favorite dance trance and rave songs to mix for Hoofbeats midnight showdown; I was as ready as I’d ever be.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts!” the amplified prerecorded message blared from the story high speakers that hung from the ceiling. “Are you ready to rave?” The audience erupted in a flurry of hoots and hollers. I couldn’t help but smile. “This. Is. DJ Pon-3!” As the metal cage continued to rise above the floor and the porthole I’d come up from closed shut, the crowd roared again.

After another minute or so a clanking noise told me that I had reached the ceiling. Down below the audience started filling in the floor beneath me. There was an upwards of one thousand, or so the manager of the club claimed; if I hadn’t been so elated I would have probably been terrified. I took a few seconds to survey the crowd; my crowd. I would give them a night they wouldn’t forget. Allowing myself to be immersed in the moment I brought my hoof down to the power button.

Let’s do this.

I started up the mixer, uploading the first track into the system. As the first hit of bass exploded from the speakers, the cage lit up in a flurry of color. To the beat, it pulsed a deep satin blue. Moving my hooves deftly across a turntable I sped things up. My heartbeat began matching the tempo of the song. I kept increasing the pace till it was almost unbearable, and then I stopped. In that second of silence, everything seemed to be suspended, time slowed and then stopped all together. I felt a feeling unlike I’d ever experienced, a tingling sensation; my heart swelled with courage. It was in that second that I understood my calling, like Octavia did when she heard the cellist. I knew this was where I belonged; on a podium, suspended above a packed dance hall, armed with a mixer and set of super sized speakers.

When the beat came back, it arrived in the form of wailing synths that must have shook the very foundation of Hoofbeats. The crowd exploded into energetic moment. Glowsticks cut creases of neon light across the air above the raving ponies’ heads, and sporadic dancing spread like a wildfire till the whole room was moving. I could feel the immense heat bellowing off the audience below, I could hear their excited shouting; I could smell the sweat. Continuing now, I mixed things up a bit, throwing songs together to make my own mash up. I didn’t falter, I didn’t slip; I was flawless. As the cage began to burn red, I closed my eyes. I could see my own colors behind my eyelids. A shape began to form, a shape that stirred memories and brought a feeling of total rightness. Like the sun goddess herself, the shape of a mare began to appear.

I was lying back at my dorm, too excited to fall asleep, too drained to move. Exhaustion buffeted me from all sides; a sort of lethargy had descended across my body.

Sighing, I was only slightly perturbed by the fact that I never fully formed the shape of my mother. It wasn’t a matter of ending the song- no -I kept an almost constant assault for three hours straight, it was a matter of missing something- a key element that I couldn’t quite grasp; it irked me. A sharp knock on the door made me sit up. I could tell from how the wood was struck that Orrick was on the other side. Smiling to myself, I uttered a weak ‘be right there’ before getting up with a groan and cantering over. As I swung the door open, Orrick stepped back and nodded curtly.

“I hoped you were still awake,” He said. “I’ve got something for you. May I come in?”

“Absolutely, Orrick, you don’t have to ask,” I exclaimed; this made him grin.

“Thank you.” I stepped out of the way and he stooped in, just clearing the door frame's width and height.

The academy had been built by ponies, for ponies, so Orrick’s size was not accommodated for. I was practically full grown, almost a mare, and still I only measured up to be about half his size. An interesting fact that I found out however, was that due to his hollow bones, he weighed about the same as a large pegasi. In his one talon, he held a small parcel. I eyed it curiously.

“So, what is it?”

Another cheeky smile.

“Hold your horses pony. When you open it, you’re sure to find out.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I guess I will.” I sat down on my bed; Orrick followed suit.

Once we were comfortably sitting, he spoke: “I was at the rave; you were amazing.” He turned to look at me. “I mean, I knew you would do good, but not that good! How long have you been practicing with the mixer?”

“About two weeks, why?”

He whistled.

“By Gadanias tail feathers you’ve got talent. Promise me this, Vinyl: never stop DJing.”

I blushed, and it appeared pronounced and visible; no thanks to my cream colored coat.

“I promise,” I swore. “But you didn’t have to make me; I’m not going to stop. When I was up in that cage I had this epiphany. I felt a buzzing in my chest. Everything felt so… right. Do you know what I mean?”

Orrick nodded understandingly.

“Absolutely. You’ve found your calling; plain and simple. I’m happy for you.”

Something in the way he spoke made me want to hug him; and I did just that. For a split second he was taken off guard, but then he embraced me back enthusiastically. Pressed so close to his chest, I could feel his heat and hear the reassuring thud of his heart. I snuggled in closer to his body, smiling contently. He brought his head down to rest on my shoulder. I knew I could have pulled away, but the lethargy had returned and I had no intentions to get back up.

And then he did something and it was my turn to be taken off guard; he brought his beak down and began to preen me. Sure, I didn’t have any feathers, but the sensation itself on my mane and fur was unbelievably relaxing. At first the strokes were hesitant, measured, however as I continued to allow his actions, he got down to business. At each tingling stroke a wave of elated shivering wracked my body. I found myself slipping further and further into bliss. Thoughts began to enter my mind, ones that I only half dismissed. I knew preening was a more sensual action, Dawn told me all about it, but the way Orrick was stroking me now seemed to be a simple friendly gesture. His path started going down the side of my back.

Ok, so maybe not so neutral.

Half of me wanted to allow him to continue, I did like him, more then I’d admit, but something that I chalked up to fatigue disallowed me to return any sort of compassionate gesture; I felt rather worthless. A peck at my tail jolted me back to the reality present. I tried mumbling a retort, but my voice was muffled by his feathers. However, as if deciphering my murmur he stopped his descent and brought his beak back up to my neck, pecking me once in a kiss before pulling away. A stray hair from my mane was caught in his beak; I brought a hoof up and brushed it away.

“Orrick, I don’t know…” I began.

“Vinyl, I really, really like you.” It was as if he hadn’t even heard me.

I blushed hopelessly. It was obvious he had feelings for me, and in all truth, I like him too. So then why in the name of Luna was I hesitating? I had a half notion.

“Orrick I, I like you too… but it’s hard.”

“Hard? Is it because I’m a griffon?” His shoulders sagged in pre-empt defeat.

“No, no, definitely not,” I quickly replied; I couldn’t stand seeing him so distraught. I’d be shot dead before I judged him for his specie. “It’s not your fault… it’s mine.” He looked into my eyes and I returned the gaze. I could tell how badly he wanted me.

“It’s yours?” he questioned.

“Yes, I’m just, I’m…” my voice drawled of as I lost my train of speech; Orrick kissed me again. I fell back on the bed and he lay on top of me; as expected he felt unnaturally light. Again I fought to prevent myself from just surrendering to him; I was getting almost unbearably heated. I wanted him, but…

“Do you remember two weeks back, when we had worked together to find myself a DJ name?” He nodded and grinded against my flank. “Well, I mentioned my old band… Up-3.”

“Yes, I remember that,” He admitted, stopping momentarily. I could feel that the pace of his heart had increased.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that I was engaged to one of the band members.”

Orrick stopped dead and rolled off of me.

“You were engaged?! Does that mean you? Oh, oh, I’m so sorry I…” I brought a hoof to his beak.

“I’m not married,” I reassured. As hard as it was going to be to recall, I’d have to. Like creeping death I felt a weight descend on my chest; something far heavier than Orrick. I sat up and took a deep breath. “I was engaged to the one who contracted Wing Rot,” I started. “The day before he’d been diagnosed, he proposed to me; I was so ready. We loved each other dearly… in the end though, not even that could save him.” My eyes began to burn.

Sensing the change in my mood, Orrick brought a talon to my disheveled mane and stroked it reassuringly, coaxing me to continue.

“He died, and after the funeral his brother decided to break up the band. He left to Stallionshire; a small settlement on the outskirts of town. After that I went back to my old job of busking.” Tears were streaming down my face now, and Orrick hugged me. “Ever since Dawn died I’ve been unable to make the kind of music I used to. And in all truth, it’s only gotten worse; I can hardly play the drums anymore! It’s like all those years of practicing, busking, and learning were for nothing. It’s a marvel that I got the turntable from you two, or I might have been expelled from the academy. Thank Celestia we’ve finished all the hooves on stuff already.”

Orrick pulled away from me and smiled warmly.

“But the past is the past; you should use it to make you stronger.” If I hadn’t been so distraught, I would have laughed; that’s what I always used to say.

“Well I’ve failed then,” I said, casting my eyes down to the covers. “I’ve only gotten weaker.”

“But you haven’t, Vinyl you…”

“Please, you can’t help me,” I whispered. “Trust me when I say I love you, Orrick, but I don’t think I can do another relationship, not now, maybe not ever.” Now it was Orrick’s turn to cast his eyes downwards.

When he rose again he was smiling reassuringly, but it seemed forced and fake. I could tell how badly he was hurting inside, and that only solidified my claims. I wouldn’t allow myself to bring him down to my filthy level of defeat. At the rate things were going I was still probably falling downhill; there was no way I’d take him with me.

“I’m sorry, Orrick, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

His smile shattered and he got up. “I understand, Vinyl.” He started walking towards the door. “I’d best be going. Goodnight.”

“Wait!” I shouted to his back, but he had already made it out, slamming the door shut behind him. I had a horrid flashback to the day Bale walked out, and I hoped dearly that I hadn’t lost yet another friend.

Brushing away the straggler tears that still hung from my fur, I looked around the room. My gaze slid to the parcel he had left at the base of the bed. In the heat of things I had forgotten all about it. Screwing up my face I picked it up with a bout of magic and carefully unwrapped it. A card fell out. Putting the box aside I read its contents.

The photograph on the front cover was sepia and trimmed with gold. It showed a mare looking over the edge of a cliff at the setting sun. In the sun, a single word was pronounced in black.

‘Believe’

The word spoke in volumes to me. I doubted even Orrick would know how profound it was. My whole life had been established around belief. Belief in myself, belief in a future free of my shaky upbringing, belief- more recently- in becoming a renowned musician. A few fresh tears slid out from my eyes; maybe it had been wrong of me to turn down the griffon so quickly. I felt horrid.

To get my mind off of my darker reveries, I opened up the card. Inside, a small message had been scribbled in a shaky talon-writing that was oh-so-familiar.

Dear Dj Pownie,

I thought it was due time that I gave you this. It’s something I used to own... and now it’s yours. A little gift from me to you. Call me crazy, but the thing I’m giving you has somehow helped me become a better griffon, both musically and personally.

Orrick.

PS: No, it’s not going to turn you into a griffon (though I wouldn’t complain, ha).

Even though I was burning in the fallout of sadness, I couldn’t help but smile. This was definitely Orrick’s writing; he was always there to get a laugh out of me.

And yet in return, all I did was devastate him.

Gently placing the card down on my mattress I moved on to the box itself. Opening it up I pulled out a pair of… goggles? They were round, and tinted purple. I hadn’t seen Orrick wear them before, but from the way the leather adjuster around the back was worn, I could tell they’d been with him for a while. Intrigued, I put them on. To my surprise they fit snugly, but even more so, with these strange glasses on all I could see was pitch blackness.

Taking them off I walked over to my mixer and sat down. Once I was comfortable I slid the goggles on again and started the system up; uploading a random song. I waited a second before putting my hooves down on a turntable. When I touched the surface, color blazed behind the goggles; more vibrant and more solid than I’d ever seen. The glowing neon descended on the mixer, lighting it up so that I could only concentrate on the device in front of me.

What the…?

I began to play, speeding up the pace and mashing together two songs that before tonight, I would have never thought sounded good together. The thing is they sounded amazing; better even than what I was making before. With a shiver I stopped playing and shut the mixer off. Sliding the goggles off my face I looked up at the ceiling. My mind was reeling with wonder and excitement.

“Thank you, Orrick, thank you so much,” I said, expressing my gratitude. I began to cry again, partially out of sadness, but also because I was happy as well. Like a martyr on her last mission, I had only one option left; I’d become a DJ, I’d rock the world.

Bridge: Reminiscing

This bridge is dedicated to EquestrianAnarchist, QuickFix, and DaMagiks. Lets not forget Starlight Sparkle either!

Here it is you four, and the two words are divided by a capitol 'X'.

…What’s done is done, Vinyl,” Octavia cooed, rising a hoof to brush a freshly fallen tear from my face. Bitterly, I swatted the helping gesture away.

“Octy, you wouldn’t understand, ok? You didn't see the look on his beak, I did!” I sniffled. “He left, and that was two months ago. It’s like he’s been avoiding me ever since that night.”

I closed my eyes and brought back the tender memory, the part before I told Orrick about Dawn and his wing rot. I’d been doing that a lot lately, obsessing over the feelings that were passed between us in the midst of intimacy. It was as if I wanted to ignore how horribly I messed up, how stupid I was. From the minute that griffon walked out, I’d been regretting, and it’d only gotten worse as the days he avoided me increased. Fifty-eight days, yes, I’d been keeping track.

“Well, I might not have seen the look on his beak, but I did get to talk to him after it all. He was frustrated, angry... but most predominantly regretful. You two should meet somewhere, somewhere nice. It’s clear that you’re both regretting your choices.” She stopped to look up at the ceiling thoughtfully; after a moment or two, she continued: “I have a performance at the Masquerade in three months. If you can last that long, I know Orrick will be attending. I’ll reserve a seat next to him for you, and then maybe you’ll have the opportunity to talk it out with him.”

For the first time in the last half-hour, my tears stopped falling as I opened my heart to the possibility of having a second chance.

“You think that would work?” I mumbled, disallowing myself to feel anything more than a little hopeful.

“I know it would. It’s not like he doesn't like you, or you him. You guys just hit a bump; I think you two make an excellent pair.”

I blushed and quickly, my prior sorrow was forgotten.

“You think?”

“I know. I wonder what your foals would look like.” My jaw dropped. It was as if Octavia had just relayed my deepest fantasy.

“I don’t know, maybe like pegasi with eagle wings?”

“That would be pretty interesting. However, no matter how your foals will look, they’ll be a hoofful while you’re raising them. Anything with griffon blood is a challenge.”

I smiled as a funny idea came to mind. “Then you can come over and help us! You’d be our dear, sweat, auntie Octy!”

“No thanks.”Octavia visibly shivered. “Foals aren’t my forte… the upbringing will be purely on your and Orrick’s shoulders; thank you very much.”

I laughed, but then my face crumpled. Suddenly, I was feeling sad again.

Damn these emotions!

“Listen to us, talking about a future where we’re old. I’m not ready to be old, I’m afraid of it. Settling down and having a family; the idea seems almost unfathomable at this point.”

“And so it should,” Octavia explained. “Celestia knows that I’m not ready even for a long term relationship. We're still young, Vinyl, full of opportunity and zeal… keep that in mind. Time has a way of changing things.”

“Indeed it does.” I sighed. “Indeed it does.”

We both zoned out, lost in the confines of recollection. The dull drone of my electric fridge sounded far too loud.

Octavia eventually broke the silence with a huff. “Listen, the past is the past dear. Look to the brighter future! We’re graduating tomorrow, we're out of school, and here we are, moping about.”

I kept my gaze down, unable to look at my friend. A hoof came into view, one that gently nudged my chin up. Octavia’s washed-out purple eyes gazed back at my rose ones.

“Listen, Vinyl, you have to get a hold on yourself,” she whispered, pulling my face closer to hers. I didn’t resist.

I could feel her breath tickle my nose; it smelled like tea. I leaned in as well, gazing deeply into those velvety depths. The world around and behind Octavia faded out, leaving only the faint buzzing behind; it was like I was experiencing tunnel vision.

“Do you remember all those times we spent hanging out with each other?” Octavia asked, starting out hesitant, but then picking up the pace. “Alone, talking about things... bonding?”

I nodded, unable to break the gaze.

“Yes, of course I do, Octy,” I replied, laughing to myself as I recalled the countless times we’d ‘bonded’.

“You were always so aggressive when we were doing it. Did you know you were my first?” Octavia asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “But I do remember how excited you were that night.”

“How about we play once more; for old times sake,” Octavia said quickly, her voice slightly desperately. “I have a new strategy that I want to try on you.” I pulled back momentarily to ponder my options. My heart was beating in excited anticipation, and I felt a bit heated.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” I finally said, smiling temptingly. “But this time, I get to dominate you.”

“Unlikely, but you can give it a try!” Octavia retorted, allowing a tinge of cockiness to enter her voice.

“It’s on. Get the stuff out, I need to prepare. Mind if I go to the washroom?” I asked.

“No, I’ll have everything ready by the time you get out,” she replied.

I nodded and got up, pushing the kitchen’s barstool out of my way so that I could make it to the washroom. As I crossed the floor of my dorm, I quickly turned back to see what Octavia was doing. She reached into her saddlepack and pulled out something smooth and sleek, with a wide base that eventually tapered off into ridged cap. Good, she’d started pulling out the pawns, and then, soon after, the chessboard itself. I smiled, rolling my eyes before turning around and closing the bathroom door behind me.

The Night She Fell

Flickering lights, a bass that would knock the wind clean out of you, glowsticks; blazing like bars of pure energy. These things came together to paint a scene of total surrealism; a scene that had become the ever present backdrop in my life. Not like I was complaining, no, I was far from complaining; but a mare has got to have a change of scenery once in awhile.

So you’d only imagine the excitement I felt when, soon after I closed both for the night a few days ago, I was approached by a business-like colt offering me the opportunity to DJ at an upcoming event in Ponyville. I’d never been there, Ponyville, but I’d heard some interesting gossip in the various Manehatten clubs’ I’d traveled too. Apparently, it was the home of the fabled Mane Six, a group of ponies who possessed an immense amount of power. From the way they were talked about, I envisioned them as a group of costumed superheroes who each possessed some unfair, reality bending abilities. I sort of doubted that, but recently with all the talk that had been going around following the much publicized day that Nightmare Moon ‘descended from her silver lit place of banishment to wreak terror on Canterlot and Ponyville’s denizens’, my opinions were slowly beginning to change.

You’d only imagine my surprise when a spokspony for Celestia herself arrived at my suburban two story house in Manehatten and requested my attendance at Princess Cadence, Celestias nieces, wedding in a bunch of months. I knew then and there that I might actually get to meet the supernatural Mane Six ponies, or at least Twilight Sparkle, who was apparently mentored by the Sun Goddess herself. Again, I doubted such claims. The media has a fickle way of obscuring the truth, but the opportunity to DJ at a royal wedding, and maybe even meet the Sun Goddess herself, was an opportunity I’d go to Luna’s hell and back to get.

To my horror I yawned. My only nemesis, my sworn enemy, was making his attack. He was the only thing I feared while DJing. He goes by many names, lethargy, fatigue… but they all mean the same thing: you’re screwed. If I could make a wish that I’d never have to fall asleep again, I would do it, but for now I’d have to obey. Turning on the microphone I began to speak to the audience, who stopped dancing as I cut the music.

“This is your DJ speaking! Are you all enjoying yourselves tonight?!” A wild cheering arose from the assembled, and I enthusiastically smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes! Anyhow, I’m going to be descending from mount high to take a quick break. I’ll be back up here in about an hour, so till then… party hard!” Not a mere second after my voice finished echoing around the stadium like rave-hall I turned on the music again, bringing everypony right back in the mood as a regional favorite began to assault their eardrums.

With a final look at my audience, I left the DJ stand and exited through backstage into a medium sized staff room. Framed by colorful walls, the space contained a few couches, a fridge with free hard cider and energy drinks, a water cooler, and some pictures that I never really paid much attention too. Sighing heavily, I dragged my hooves to the fridge and pulled out an energy drink. Popping the tab off, I cantered over to a nearby couch and sat down heavily on its cushy surface. With another sigh I took a sip before closing my eyes, moaning and then falling back on the chair; letting my body sink in to the fabric. I didn’t know if I could go back out there; I was just so exhausted. I suppose all the late nights I’d been having recently were finally taking their toll.

“A little tired, are we?” A voice made my eyes snap open. Getting up, I tried to figure out where the source had come from. When my first scan came up with nothing, I fell back, chalking the words up to being a fabrication of my sleep deprived mind.

“Are you in there? I heard your hooves.” The voice came again, and this time, I knew exactly where it was coming from. At the far end of the room, a closed door that led to the main club was securely locked. The voice was coming in from the other side.

“Who’s there?” I asked, getting up and cantering over to the door.

“Celestia,” The male voice said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Smiling to myself I arrived at the door. It was rather strange that somepony was on the other side- sure -and I wasn’t expecting anypony, but in all truth, what did I have to lose? It wasn’t like he was going to hurt me or anything, by Luna, I was the beloved DJ of the club… touch a mere hair on my mane without me wanting you to, and you’ve got a room full of ponies who would be more than happy to pummel you. Shrugging, I opened the door.

“Dj Pon-3?” the earth pony framed in the doorway asked a little shyly.

“Yep. What’s up?” I replied.

“You gave us a damn good show out there tonight. I and my friends were wondering if you’re planning on actually coming out, they’d love to meet you.”

“I don’t know bro…” I looked longingly over my shoulder at the energy drink, “you said it yourself… I’m damn tired.”

The visitor looked only slightly perturbed.

“If you don’t want to come out, could I come in?”

I sized him up. He had a raver’s build; with strong hind hooves to glowstring, a broad neck and a wiry frame. He was a fine specimen, no doubt… but trustworthy? His genuine smile dismissed my apprehensions. I could probably do with some company anyway. I’d been so busy with my work lately that I’d had little time to get in touch with my friends.

“What could I possibly do wrong, Pon3? Do I intimidate you?” He smiled playfully.

I raised an eyebrow.

“No, you don’t. Come in, make yourself at home… I’ve stood up to much, much larger things then you. Ever dealt with a griffon?”

He shook his head before cantering into the room. His eyes immediately locked on to the mini-fridge.

“They say you get free beer back here, is that true?”

“Yes, free drinks are a benefit of being a DJ,” I chuckled.

“The only benefit?” the earth pony questioned. “I’d bet you snag some mighty passionate fangasaming colts as well.”

“You being one of them?” I asked, closing the door and following him to the couch.

“You might find out.” When he looked at me again, I got a clear view of his eyes. They were blue, but more interestingly, they had what seemed to be a glaze of rainbow across their surface. I scotched the strange colors up to contacts. “May I?” He had made his way to the fridge, and was asking my permission to take a drink.

“Go ahead; Celestia knows I can’t drink it all on my own.”

“Sweet,” he murmured, before swinging open the small door and taking out two drinks.

Instead of walking towards me though, he closed the fridge door and just stared, tail and hind hooves facing me.

“What’s up?” I asked, airing on caution.

“N…nothing. Do you have a bottle opener?” he asked.

Without waiting for my response, he bent down so that he was almost fully hidden behind the granite topped island in front of the minifridge. I heard him opening up cupboards. I rolled my eyes.

“Dude, they’re screw off.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, rising again with both bottles open and a blush across his face. Placing the lids back on, he shook the bottles up and handed one to me.

“Take one,” he said, I shook my head.

“I’m tired, remember? Do you think that drinking alcohol will help that?”

“One beer couldn’t hurt,” the colt reasoned, plopping down beside me. “And besides, that energy drink will perk you right back up once you finish it.”

He did have a point. Shrugging, I allowed my magic to envelop the drink before bringing the lip up and taking a swig. I sighed, the beer was nice and cool. When I brought my gaze up from the bottle to rest on the colt, he was just staring at me silently. There was a sort of gleam in his eye, one that I couldn’t quite put a hoof on.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“That’s not important,” he mused. “My friends just call me Wolf.”

I screwed up my face. “Wolf? Rather predatory don’t you think? What’s the story behind that?” I asked.

As I took another drink I felt an unusual surge of arousal, accompanied by an undercurrent of giddiness, grab me. I froze up.

“It is, but I suppose I’m a rather predatory pony,” he replied with a grin.

Somewhere beneath the odd veil that had settled, hampering my decision making skills, I heard alarm bells go off. Something wasn’t right, but my body didn’t feel panicked. I took another drink.

“How…?” I stopped before I could finish the question, just holding back a moan as a second, far stronger wave hit me. Suddenly, the colt in front of me was looking mighty appealing. “…so” I finished my sentence, leaning against him.

I felt utterly concerned and confused, but all that was overpowered by an intense heat that made me simply aching for treatment. I rubbed my mane against his side and grinded against his flank, loosing sight of what's accepted in society as respecting boundaries.

“I think you’ll find that out very soon,” he replied. His voice had gone gruff, and it sounded like he was leering at me.

Bringing up a hoof, he pushed me away and forcefully tipped the drink into my muzzle; cider dribbled down my cheek and rolled off my chin. As a third wave overtook me I began to sweat profusely, the world spun and I fought to remain conscious. I brought a shaky muzzle to his cheek and kissed him passionately. He just sat there, sneering in sick triumph. As he rounded on me, he had a small vial and a miniature syringe latched onto his hoof. I hadn’t noticed them before, because a lime green striped hoof-sock had covered them up; that sock now laid a few hoof steps away in a ball.

“This here is Buck.” He stuck out his hind hoof and tipped the vial, swirling the faintly glowing rainbow colored liquid inside. “It’s the answer to all your problems. You don’t want to be tired anymore, this is the remedy.”

I locked up and stopped kissing him. Even as impaired as I was, there was no way I’d break that easily.

Buck, you mean he’s trying to drug me?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I questioned, embarrassed at how he’d tricked me. What enraged me more however, was the fact that I still painfully craved for him.

“Oh, I’m not. And besides… don’t you want me for a bit?” He brought a hoof down to my nether region and stroked temptingly. I sighed bitterly.

No, no, no, no, no.

“Yes!” I groaned, pushing against his hoof.

“I’ll give you a deal then, instead of paying me in bits, you pay me like this.” He brought his damp hoof up and smeared it across my face. Before I could react, he pulled me into a kiss that sent me reeling.

“I’m doing a favor for you here, Pon3,” He said, breaking the sloppy embrace. “You have an audience out there waiting for you. It’d be such a shame if you disappointed them. You still have to DJ for another two hours.” He brought one of his rear hooves up and knocked over my energy drink. “And it looks like you spilled your drink.”

Don’t you dare do it, Vinyl.

“I don’t… want… it.” It was getting harder and harder to resist, my body was alight with stifling desire. Tears of embarrassment and defeat streamed down my face to mix with the alcohol. I felt violated and degraded. He brought his hoof up to my horn and roughly brushed it, my breath caught in my throat.

“Dammit, enough!” I whinnied. “Just give it to me, I need you, I can’t, I can’t take it any longer.” I began shivering; my sweat went cold.

“I thought so,” he said, taking the syringe out of its harness and loading it up with a shot of Buck. “It’ll be over in a second.”

No.

Did I mention how fun it is to DJ? I did, or maybe I didn’t. So let me tell you again; it’s so totally amazingly fun! The lights are colorful, I like how they shine. A tip though, don’t look at them directly, they might blind you! But I think that might be fun as well, because then, I would forever have all the colorful lights burnt into my eyes! I loved the colorful lights, but now, I love Buck even more. Or… maybe I shouldn’t be telling you that, Wolf told me to not tell anyone. Wolf. Wolf is so amazing. I can hear him whispering to me in my mind!

~*~*~*~

The Dance floor was in a flurry, but it wasn’t the ponies that were moving so energetically, it was the lights. They had lost all form, and instead resorted to flying at me, burning into my mind’s eye. There was no order here, just overwhelming activity. How long had I been up on stage? Time seemed to fly, while other times, it stood still. I was beginning to feel dizzy, but the massive serge of energy that was pounding through my muscles prevented any notion of actually stopping from entering my chemically hazed brain. All my common sense was out the window, and then probably hit by a grenade. I was acting restless, overworking myself.

As I continued to play, not heeding my bodies scream for a break, my stomach began to churn. Bile welled up in my throat and I cringingly forced it down. I began to DJ harder than ever. Small dribbles of rainbow tinted saliva began to escape from my clenched muzzle, and I brushed them away quickly as to not arouse any suspicion. If my injection of Buck was discovered, I’d definitely be kicked from the club. Soon, my stomach went from churning to all out burning. I slipped up, and my hoof fell onto one of the buttons on my mixer. The music was quickly distorted with a flange that absolutely destroyed its flow; the audience stopped. As the colors disappeared, I was blind again behind my glasses. Quickly, I took them off and looked at the audience. A ‘hush’, or what could be called a hush in a rave club, fell over them. Instead of trying to address the ravers though, I put my hooves again on the turntable and starting things back up. I began an attempt at mixing the new song, but it failed miserably and the audience began to boo.

This could not be happening.

But it was. I was losing it, and it sure didn’t help that I was about to throw up. I’d have to address them, even if the pain in my stomach was becoming unbearable. “Hey everypony!” my voice came out overly energetic, aside from how I was feeling. “I’m not feeling very good, but that’s ok, I just need another…” I stopped and my body convulsed. I heaved, and the pain from my stomach came out to burn my throat before spilling forth. My bile was tinted rainbow and glowing faintly. The audience gasped.

After a moment or so of prickly silence, a stallion from the audience spoke up:

“Buck user! Pon3 is an addict!” A torrent of disapproval contorted the features of many of my fans, turning their smiles of adoration to sneers of hate.

“I’m not!” I retorted into the mic, holding my ground. “And now I can play again! I’m not feeling bad anymore, right?!” I brought a hoof up to start the music, ignorant to the fact that I was being shouted at to get off the stage.

What came forth was a monster of sound and light, the audience cringed; a few from the group even started to leave.

"Where the fuck are you going?" I demanded. "Can't take the beats, pussies?" I brushed away a few drips of Rainbow tinted saliva before laughing for no apparent reason. Everything just seemed so funny to me.

A noise from behind made me stop and turn. Security, followed closely by the club's manager, beckoned me off stage. I shook my head and puckered my lips like a foal.

“I don’t want to; I’ve still got so much energy.”

“Miss Vinyl, that’s not your choice to make,” the manager replied. “If I knew you were on Buck, I wouldn’t of let you back up on stage in the first place. Manhattan's clubs don’t look kindly on drugged up DJ’s, and the only thing that is preventing me from dragging you down from here and throwing you out is because I like you. Step down from the stage, Vinyl; I don’t want to have to make you.”

“Well you’re going to,” I said, suddenly venomous. “Because I’ve still got an audience to play too.”

“Really?” the manager piped up, slowly advancing on me via the stairs that lead up to the stage. “Look around you, Vinyl; they’re as much against it as I am." He fixed me in a stern gaze. "This is my final warning, step down and come with me. I’ll even pay you for the night.”

“No!” I hollered, picking up the table my mixer had been resting on in a field of magic, and throwing it at the advancing security.

It struck them dead on, knocking them back down the stairs; the manager dived out of the way in the nick of time. I gasped. My magic was so much stronger than it normally was; another bonus of Buck, no doubt. My mixer came crashing down, skidding to a stop right before sliding off the stage and into the audience. The left turntable was broken. Fulfilling a shouted order from the manager, the guards rushed me. I tried to pick up my mixer and chuck that, but they were too fast, pinning me to the ground before I could concentrate. I struggled violently against their hold, screaming and hollering profanities; all my attempts only made them hold firmer.

After another minute or so I stopped; as quickly as the sudden surge of senseless anger had overcome me, it’d left, leaving me feeling empty inside. All the fight left me then and I collapsed in on myself. I looked up to see the manager looming above me.

“I’m sorry?” I whimpered. The manager just sadly shook his head.

“Sorry just won’t cut it dear.” He turned to address a third colt, one who had just recently made an appearance from somewhere offstage. “Take her away; notify the other clubs of her problem.”

It was in that moment that the realization of what I had just done, and what he had just said, crashed down on me.

Chemical Romance

…In this world there are Villains, and Super Villains,” I said to the ceiling.
I was pinned to my filthy bed, battered by the exhausting, all encompassing lethargy that only Buck could bring after a user resurfaced.

“Super Villains are the ones who make the master plans, the ones with the armies, the money, the whole world hates them.”

From somewhere downstairs, I could hear my speaker system blaring; pumping out the heavy hitting tunes that I must have danced too all night long. Sleep for me was no longer consistent. Sometimes I got twelve hours, others I got three; it was taking a frightening toll on my body.

“Villains on the other hand, are those Luna damned ponies whose sole purpose it is to spread anger, corruption, and devastation to a single other. These Villains do everything in their power to make another’s life as unstable and crippled as they can. They have no respect for the law, don’t know compassion… all they know-like parasprites- is how to consume and move on. Wolf is a Villain,” I concluded.

Rolling over in my bed with a groan, I pulled open a bedside drawer. Inside, a syringe and a single vial was kept. My last hit of Buck.

“A villain that I have become reliant on.”

As I got ready to visit Wolf, the phone rang. Yawning, I moved away from my sink and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Vinyl?” Octavia was on the other line. Through the hampering influence of fatigue, I felt my heart jump excitedly.

“Octavia? Oh, it’s great to hear from you. What’s up?”

“Nothing much; playing the cello, performing…” Her voice faded, only to return in the form of a controlled whisper. “Listen, I heard about your problem…”

My blood went cold and I closed my eyes.

Of course she had.

“Well, it’s a lie,” I said, unable to admit to my shameful activities. “It’s all a lie.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Vinyl; it’s the only thing I hear on the streets. What in the name of Luna were you thinking, this is so…” I pulled the phone away and went to hang up. Something held me back, however; I brought the receiver back up to my ear.

“Listen Octy, I didn’t pick up the phone to hear this shit from you. Why did you call?” I demanded, scowling to the wall. I didn’t need another ‘concerned friend’ heckling me.

“Well, I was just, see… I” good, I’d thrown her off; about time she learned that I could keep care of myself.

“Octavia, why did you call me? I’ve got an appointment, and frankly, I’m already running late,” I growled into the receiver.

Silence on the other side of the line… was she crying? Something about the fact that she was acting so weak pissed me off even more.

“Are you crying, really? You can’t let my choices affect you like this, seriously, I’m fine. I got work in Ponyville. I’m fine,” I repeated for emphasis. “Can you please calm down and tell me what you need to tell me?” I hated how she was stalling, what was so important anyway?

When Octavia spoke up again, her voice had gone hard, resolute. “You want to know why I called, Vinyl? I’m performing at the Masquerade, and I pulled enough strings to reserve that spot for you. However, since you have no intention of getting off whatever you’re on-this Buck drug-I have no intention to keep your spot. If you can clean yourself up in the next week, you can come…”

In an act of unkempt rage, I swiftly interrupted her prating “By Luna shut the hay up! You’re not my mother!” I ripped the phone away from my head and smashed the ‘end call’ button…it was then that I realized what I had just done.

Orrick. That spot at Octavia's performance was supposed to be my opportunity to come to terms with him. My eyes widened in despair, I didn't cry, didn't shout out or even get angry; I just felt numb. Stumbling over to my dresser, I took out the remaining vial of Buck and injected into my neck.

Happiness overcame me.

“Welcome back.” The cold voice of Wolf came to my ears as I was escorted into a gloomy looking room.

Shadows cut creases across the walls, weaving dark murals. In the center, Wolf sat on a couch with a cigarette clenched in his teeth and a wry smile splayed across his face.

“I’d imagine our stalk of Buck is running low, yes?”

I nodded, clenching my jaw.

“Yes. How much for thirty-five hits?”

Wolf’s eyebrow rose at this.

“That’s more than you normally buy from me; planning on sharing it with some of your friends?” A harsh laugh. “I doubt that.” He beckoned me to sit down beside him.

Reluctantly, I obeyed. Only once I had settled, did he reach a hoof to wrap around my side and rest on my flank. His touch made me want to vomit, but I needed him and his cooperation, especially for what I was about to propose.

“So, how much for thirty-five?” I restated my question.

Wolf appeared as though he had just woken up from a daze.

“Of course, forgive me. Your body is just so… tempting.” He uncomfortably prodded me by the tailhole with the tip of his hoof. I squirmed away, repulsed. “A pony could easily be sidetracked. You want thirty-five? That’ll be three-thousand-five-hundred bits.”

I nodded; I’d known that that would be the final number. I also knew that if I were to pay in full price, I’d no longer have the money to live at my home. Repair on the turntable had already cost me a fortune in itself, and with the news of my addiction spread across Manehatten, I wasn’t getting any work. It was time for me to cast out the line:

“Thirty five hundred!” I exclaimed in mock surprise. “But I haven’t got the money for that.” I cast my glance sideways just in time to catch that sick gleam in Wolf’s eyes; I knew what was coming next.

“You can’t pay, eh?” Wolf said. “We can always troubleshoot…”

I cast my tattered dignity aside and fell against him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the sick minded earth pony; however, the need for Buck was a more prominent matter. My lips went in to kiss his, but he raised a hoof and pushed my muzzle back.

“Not this time, Vinyl. You can’t seduce me a third time.”

I felt my heart drop through the floor.

“However, I did say we could troubleshoot.” He paused momentarily to take a drag of his cigarette. “I have an offer for you. One that’ll allow you to start making money again, DJ’ing, like you love to do.” He was being evasive, filling me up with more questions than solutions. I could only sit at the front of my seat and listen.

“I own a club, one that’s been looking for a DJ…” I cut him off.

“I’m banned from clubs, if you’re caught with me up on stage, you could face investigation.”

He only smiled.

“What makes you think that the authorities know of my club?”

“Well, I just…” I was interrupted.

“They don’t, it’s all underground,” Wolf explained, maintaining his grin.

“Oh,” I replied, feeling foalish. The deal sounded too good to be true, however… there had to be a catch.

“Yes, you can again make money doing the thing you love… however in return, I want you; the thing I love.” He brought a hoof back to stroke my flank. “You’re a very sexy pony, Vinyl, and very willing… just what I need.” His stroking became rough, and he nicked by butt painfully. “So, do we have a deal?”

I wanted to say yes; if I said yes, I could continue taking Buck and not worry about the financial repercussion that came with the addiction.

So why am I hesitating then?

The question struck me as a rather odd notion. Why was I hesitating? Something about the nature of the question made me think back to a time when Octavia and I were spending one of our chess-filled nights together. She had mentioned something about my lack of thinking ahead. Her voice came to me as clear as daylight: “You simply must learn to look ahead, Vinyl. Failing to do so could get you in a world of unneeded trouble, or in this case, lose your king.”

And yet, even though I promised Octy I’d try to better myself, I’m again only thinking in the now!

So what if I did take up his offer? What would that lead to? A shady lifestyle always controlled by the firm hoof of Wolf; always controlled by impulse and need. I might be in some trouble now, but a future living with Wolf could only lead to a bigger disaster. All these thoughts ran through my head in a matter of thirty seconds, however, it was all I needed to decide how I’d answer. I wasn’t completely brain-dead yet.

“I’m sorry, Wolf, but I can’t accept the offer.”

In response to my rejection, he scowled bitterly.

“Well then you're stupider than I thought. Are you telling me that you’d rather be on the streets of Manehatten, then in the safe confines of a home, and with a paying job?”

I nodded, still not fully understanding why I rejected his offer.

“Yes, I’ll send you the money in two days,” I replied.

I went to leave, but then stopped half way towards the door. The two guards at the entrance met me, each putting a firm hoof on either side of my shoulders.

“And to answer your question; I need a larger supply because I’m going to be staying in Ponyville for a while. An individual, Rarity, has asked me to DJ at an upcoming fashion show of hers. I’ll return with enough money to keep me off the streets, and your pockets full,” I explained.

I had to appeal to him, because he was my lifeline. Without Wolf, I’d not have access to Buck, and without Buck, I’d probably have a mental breakdown. In the past few months I’ve tried to get off the blasted drug, yet each and every time, I’d fail and go scurrying back. I no longer had control over my mental process, I needed Buck to keep me going, and I’d be nothing without it.

The train ride from Manehatten Junction to Ponyville seemed to drag on, and on; it grinded on my nerves. My gaze kept flitting to my suitcase, or more so to the medium sized chestnut box that was indefinitely inside, disguised as a jewelry case; my month’s supply of Buck was in there.

It felt like my veins were on fire, I wanted to take a shot right now, but I knew I couldn’t. Instead, I resorted to quickly zipping open the suitcase and gazing at the contents inside. It was like I could feel the needle slipping into my vein, feel the wondrous rush that soon followed, the happiness, the euphoria that allowed an escape from this dreary world, and into a brighter one. And I shouldn’t forget the lights! The ones I used to be able to call on while I made music. They’d return and surround me; bright as ever. Oh, how I craved for that wonderful, freeing, rainbow colored…

I caught myself and quickly zipped up my bag; hiding its contents from my view. Shaking my head in disgust, I tried to bring my mind off of Buck.

Canterlot had just appeared over the horizon, framed in all its beauty against the sapphire sky. Somewhere beneath that castle of gold and silver, nestled comfortably between the Everfree forest and the Smoky Mountains, a new chance at life presented itself. From the time between my first trip on Buck, to now, I’d gotten much better at controlling myself, or more so covering up the negative effects that the drug presented. If things went as I thought they would, I should be able to remain under the radar while I was here, and find some work again.

As the train screeched out of the station, I turned to stare at the small, homey, Ponyville Junction station. The trip to Ponyville itself was another fifteen minutes by carriage, however, I didn’t have the money to pay for the trip; I concluded that I’d be walking.

… So you are absolutely certain that you’re up to this, Vinyl?” the mare in front of me said, her gaze flitting in a manner that told me she still didn’t trust that I’d be able to perform at one-hundred percent.

“Yes ma'am,” I replied. “I know how important this is to you.” I stopped for a second to chuckle. “And with the money you’re paying me to do this gig, you’ll definitely see me giving it my all.”

She still didn’t seem convinced, and if I wasn’t lost in the euphoric effects of Buck, I’d have probably felt frustrated.

“Listen, Rarity. I’m a valid DJ with a diploma from Manhattan's Music Academy; I have years of experience under my saddle… I won’t fail, I promise.”

Picking up on the sincerity in my voice, Rarity reluctantly nodded.

“Alright, Vinyl, you’ve got the gig. I’ll pay half the expenses now and the other half after you successfully perform. Meet me at the Carousel Boutique tomorrow at the time I gave you.” She pulled out her bit-purse; a gilded thing with gold trim and impressive weight.

I wondered how much money she had in there. In silence, I watched as she fed out my pay onto the table, counting to herself as she went. By the time she was done, I was fighting back the urge to hug her, and then maybe take things to the next level; the amount of money she was going to give would already pay off a good chunk of my recent transaction with Wolf. I knew that the following night, a time when I’d get the other half of my pay, I’d celebrate. Just me and Buck; bound in Chemical Love.

Rarities fashion show had been both entertaining, and different. I still found it to be a miracle that I’d made it through the night without high-tailing home and taking an injection. Going against my cravings, I repented from taking Buck so that there’d be no way I’d blow my opportunity. I survived a night without it, and that in itself was momentous. However, because I didn’t take my nightly supplement, I was burning from the inside out.

Speaking of commitment, I’d made a deal with myself that if I made it through the show, and got paid in full, I’d celebrate. This all happened, and I, being the honest pony that I was, needed to carry out my end of the bargain. With a smile, I got up from the couch and made my way across the quaint bungalow I’d rented for the month.

As I passed by the window, I looked out. Looming just above the highest peak of Sugarcube corner, Twilights tree-house was silhouetted against the crimson sky. I’d seen her up on stage at the performance; her, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Applejack… the whole gang. They’d put on a good show, no doubt, and I’d been tempted to invite them back to my place to talk and get to know them a bit better. The one obvious thing that prevented me from doing that however, was their inclination to Buck. I didn’t know where they stood on the matter, hay, I couldn’t help but wonder if they even knew about it; Ponyville just didn’t seem to be a place where drugs, or any shady activity at that, was a recurring theme. I shook my head, dismissing my thoughts. I’d already stalled long enough; I had a date with Buck and I was running late.

Moving on from the window, I opened a small bedside drawer and pulled out my ‘jewelry box’. I couldn’t concentrate in the Buck deprived state I was in, so I resorted to tapping the hidden button with my hoof instead of utilizing my magic. The bottom of the box flipped open, revealing the true gems; nestled in the secret hollow crafted in the base.

As I brought the loaded syringe up I began to shiver in ecstasy. With my teeth, I expertly navigated the needle to rest over my jugular-the place I found which gave the quickest results-before easing the sharpened tip through my flesh and into the large vein. As I injected, any pain I might of felt was quickly washed away as I felt the wondrous, all encompassing rush hotwire all my senses and send them into overdrive. The first stage, the one where my vision, hearing, touch and smell became greatly enhanced, was already underway. The hampering giddiness, the surge of energy; that would come later.

Shivering, I brought my hooves across my body. Every nerve seemed to tingle, every neuron; it was very pleasure inducing, to say the least. As my frisking went lower and lower, my breath caught in my throat. I imagined all the mares I’d seen today, and Wolf, all ready for a stifling get together. A convulsion sent me falling back onto my bed, where I began rubbing my nether region aggressively, biting my lip as wave after wave of all-consuming arousal battered me from all ends. The climax was over quickly, but I wasn’t done yet. I wanted more.

Casting a shaky bout of bluish magic into the hollow, I attempted to reload the syringe. I’d never taken two hits before, but Wolf hadn’t cautioned me about any possible repercussions. Besides, with the few extra vials of Buck I had, I was safe for the month. Bringing the small glass capsule up to the needle, I attempted to latch it onto the feeding tube. A convulsion the size of a tsunami made me drop the uncorked hit of Buck onto my bed. As the liquid spilled out I screamed and fell, trying to lap up whatever I could salvage from the covers; all I got however was a tongue-full of lint.

Feeling an uncontrollable bout of rage seize me, I picked up a nearby lamp in a sickly glow of red magic and violently threw it. As it struck the wall beside me, it exploded, sending shards of glass in all directions. With a flicker, the metal wire in the middle of the bulb went out. Gritting my jaw till it hurt, I amassed all my energy into steadily reloading the syringe. After a moment of stifling concentration, I heard the reassuring click of the vial latching onto the feeder tube. I gave a breath of relief before bringing the new hit up to my neck. Finding that I could wait no longer, I roughly shoved the needle in, injecting the drug into my bloodstream with a swift pump of the ejector.

I had the opportunity to take three elated breaths before my world started breaking apart. Maw agape, I tried to stand up, tried to canter, but all I could do was roll out of my bed and onto the hard wooden floor beneath. As I hit the cold surface, I felt the glass shards from the shattered light dig into my back, cutting deep in some areas, grazing in others. In the current state I was in however, inflicted by the sense enhancement presented by the two shots of Buck I’d taken, every cut made a new wave of excruciating pain terrorize my body. I began to scream, not out of rage, but out of utter trauma and hurt. The colors began to appear, but instead of wrapping me up in their embrace, they flew around me; resembling a swarm of killer bees. I coughed twice and my chest contracted. Blood started to trickle out of the corner of my maw. Trying to get away from the glass, I rolled over again, falling onto the still burning metal prong of the lamp. It began to burn at my chest, but try as I might to get out of the way, a paralysis began to overtake me. I realized, to my horror, that I could no longer move. Crying bitterly, all I could do was stay still as my body went numb. Soon to follow, my vision died and my heart sped up. Scared witless and faced with horrifying what-if’s, I fell unconscious.

A Change of Heart

In the darkness, time evaded me. Occasionally, images surfaced to flicker before my conscience; rising out of the shadowy murk to burn my eyes; I saw things I hadn’t seen in a very, very, long time.

Was I dying?

Everything felt surreal, faded, out of focus. I couldn’t think in the state I was in, only see. See the Sunnyside Orphanage; its two story bulk framed against a bleeding sky. See the streets of Manehatten, The Drinking Trough, the Academy… even Hoofbeats; the club where I started my career. Then faces came to me, some smiling, some sneering, some angry, some hurt; Cloud Chaser, Alkaline, Dawn, Juicebox, Bail, Wolf, Octavia… Orrick. As Orrick’s image faded away, and a blazing light spread to cover my vision, something strange happened; something unexplainable. A mare began to appear before me, silhouetted by the sun, framed by light, and so very familiar. The light began to fade; the details began to clarify, a smile, a beckoning hoof, wings that rose to block the sun from my eyes…

A jolt made the image darken, and then fade. A beeping noise began to creep into my conscience. The steady rhythm rose to crescendo, and it filled every corner of my mind. The last thing I saw was my mother retreating into the burning sun.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Vinyl?”

The beeping faded into the background.

“Mmmph.” I stirred and attempted to speak, but I didn’t have the energy to vocalize the words hanging from my tongue.

“Vinyl, its Octavia… thank Celestia you’re ok!”

Impossible.

Octavia should be in Manehatten right now, performing for The Golden Dome. How in the name of Luna was she here?

“Octy?” I whispered, opening my eyes; all I could see was a whitewashed ceiling.

“Vinyl, yes, it’s me.”

After a moment, Octavia’s head came into view. Her mane hung down to tickle my nose. As I brought a hoof up to rub it, something held me back. Initially, I thought Octavia was the reason I was pinned, that she was holding me down, or something. Sliding my head to the left however revealed that it was a set of secure leather straps, which bound my hooves.

“Where the hay am I!” I said, feeling some of my strength return to me; I pulled at the bindings, but they held firm. I felt the beginning traces of panic set into my chest. “Octavia, what going…” My friends hoof came down to rest on my muzzle, cutting my off softly.

“You’re in Ponyville’s hospital. They’re holding you here till we can ship you off to Canterlot rehab center. You’ve been detoxed but, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.” From the way she spoke, apprehensive, she knew that she was pushing the envelope; I felt my face flush red.

“Rehab! Why in the name of Luna would I need that?” I retorted.

“Are you kidding me, Vinyl?” Octavia asked, sounding incredulous.

“Are you a mare?” I replied, seething with rage. “I knew you were only here to mess things up!”

“Me; mess things up?” Octavia replied; her voice had gone tight.

I could tell she was restraining from yelling at me. I, on the other hoof, had nothing holding me back.

“Yes you. You came all the way from Manehatten to tie me to a bed and reject me the only pleasure I had left in life!” I shouted.

“Well, Vinyl, believe it or not, but that ‘pleasure’ of yours has come to destroy the mare I once knew.” Her voice was rising in pitch as she became angrier and angrier at every passing word. “You overdosed; you should be grateful that you’re still alive! Did you know you fell into cardiac arrest? Have you seen the x-rays on your chest, where you lungs have been scratched and in some areas, partially liquefied? How about the brain graph, where it shows that your mental capacity has dropped by thirty percent!” And then, as a bitter afterthought: “Some pleasure you have, Vinyl.”

For moments, I was stunned into silence. Then, slowly, I began to cry.

What have I done?

As quickly as the anger came, Octavia calmed down and brushed my mane compassionately.

“Listen, Vinyl. You’ve lost sight of who you are. A griffon once told me that the real friends, those who you can rely on, and trust, will be the ones to make you cry. Why? Because only real friends can sit you down and tell you the reality that you’re facing. I’m willing to help you out here, but I need your cooperation.”

I nodded slowly.

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

“Go to rehab, get better; start again.” She sighed. “Vinyl, you have to get off of Buck. Now.”

I shook my head sadly.

“I can’t, it’s impossible. Without it, I can hardly use my magic. If I ever wanted to DJ again, I’ll need that magic back; Buck can give it to me.”

“I’m sorry, but…” I cut her off desperately.

“I’ll give you a deal, you like deals… right?”

Octavia remained motionless.

“Let me keep taking it, I won’t OD again, I promise… you can even control how much I take. I just need a little bit though, just enough to keep me going and…” It was Octavia’s turn to cut me off.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t like that idea. Besides, your magic potential can be retaught, relearned. Firstly, however, you must get off the drug.”

“No, I, I won’t, I like it, it’s only helped.” I didn’t care how foalish I sounded; my veins were burning, I needed a hit soon, or I’d go crazy.

I closed my eyes and imagined the needle going into my throat, the wonderful rush, the wonderful feelings… I relaxed for a few seconds. Casting my glance around the room, I noticed my jewelry box.

“Octavia?” I asked, feeling a sickly cool come over me.

She’s a daft pony, I can trick her, I can convince her that I’m fine, and then I could…

“Yes, Vinyl,” She replied.

“Why did you bring my jewelry box?”

“Oh, well, I thought that you might want some of your jewelry. Your front door was unlocked when I arrived, and I didn’t know how to relock it. I’d hate for it to get stolen, or something… why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering,” I replied, smiling wickedly to myself. “You know, you’re right; this addiction is getting out of hoof. The rehab center, will it hurt? What will they do to me?”

“Oh, they won’t do anything; they’re there to present the options,” She explained, smiling. “Why, are you actually considering taking up my offer?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “You know, you were right, I’ve done something terribly wrong, and well, I think it’d be best if I try to, you know, right the wrong.”

Octavia’s smile widened.

“Really, Vinyl?” I could hear the relief in her voice.

“Ya… why not?”

“Oh, thank Celestia!” She hugged me, and I nuzzled her chin.

“Now can you please untie me?” I asked, lacing my words with what I thought to be a very convincing display of humor.

It must have worked, because Octavia laughed and nodded.

“Of course I can, Vinyl.”

I waited in patience as my friend unbuckled my hooves. As the fourth and final binding clicked open, I sprung my plan. As Octavia went to back away, I shot up and grabbed her shoulder, forcing her back down on the hospital bed. She struggled, but because she had been taken off guard, I quickly overpowered her. In a swift motion, I pulled one of her hind hooves out from underneath her, and latched it onto the bed with the closest leather strap. She was effectively trapped.

“Vinyl, what in the name of…?” My cold laugh cut her short.

“Octy, did you really think I’d break under your influence so easily? Buck is mine, and no-one, not even you, is going to take it away from me!”

Shivering excitedly, I stumbled over to my jewelry box and clicked the hidden button.

“Oh, no,” I heard Octavia moan. “I, I never suspected that!”

“And you said that my brain capacity has dropped? I just outsmarted you!”

Whatever else she had to say was blocked out as all my attention was directed at the sparkling vials that now lay neatly in front of me. Licking my lips, I cast my magic over the vial closest to the front, and loaded the syringe. Bringing the elixir of life up to my throat, I turned and shoved the needlepoint into my neck, displaying my activities to a cringing Octavia.

“Why are you disgusted?” I asked, waiting for the euphoria to settle in. “You should try it!” I turned back around and loaded another syringe. “If you don’t, I’ll take a second…” I froze as I felt the first effects of the drug rush over me… drowsiness?

“Oh, I think I’ll pass this time, Vinyl,” Octavia said calmly; my world swam. “And now I’ve seen how deep you are in this. Did you really think I’d be so stupid? You just injected yourself with a tranquilizer.”

As I fell to my side, overwhelmed by wave after wave of lethargy, I saw Octavia unbuckle herself from the bed and canter over to me. Gently, she picked me up and lay me to rest back on my bed.

“I’ll see you soon, dear.”

The last thing I heard before finally succumbing was the clicking of my bindings; again, I was restrained to the mattress.

A day passed by, and then another, and another. My life became a living hell. Only at night, when my body, exhausted from tugging at the binging and screaming to the ceiling succumbed to sleep, did I fall into paradise. I wouldn’t dream of friends, or even my mother… they had all betrayed me; all I could dream of is the one thing that I could rely on, the only thing that made me happy. Buck. My dreams were always about it; always there to remind me of the paradise I lost when that bitch, who apparently was my friend, left me to go crazy in here. From that first day I had woken up in the hospital room to now, I had stooped deeper and deeper into a depression; so much so, that I stopped eating and drinking. My behavior led Nurse Redheart, yet another mare that was now against me, to feed me intravenously; didn’t she get the hint that I didn’t want to be around anymore?

At first, Octavia would visit each day. She’d try to be friendly, talk about our academy years, about that first time we met in the drinking trough; as if I’d allow her the pleasure of hearing me talk nicely back. If I merely saw her, I’d shout profanities, or just shut her out. Each day her visits became shorter and shorter, until one day, she just didn’t return.

So now I’m lying in the hospital room that has become my purgatory, my waking hell, staring at the same old ceiling, feeling the same old sheets tucked closely to my chest. I hear a click at the door, the only noise present; I’d gotten so used to the beeping beside me. With a sigh, I craned my neck towards the door, waiting for yet another nurse to scurry in, or maybe Octavia, who I had already decided I wouldn’t talk too. To my surprise, a griffon squeezed in through the small doorframe; a very familiar one at that.

“Orrick?” I asked, my own voice sounding scratchy and alien to me.

The griffon turned. When his eyes fell on my frail, bedridden form, they softened from compassion and relief.

“Yes… miss me?” he said; If only he knew how badly I did. “Well, I miss you too.”

An awkward silence filled the room, one where I took the time to look over the griffon that was once my object of affection. I took note of his feathers, nicely preened and proper, his black, predatory eyes, his hooked beak which at the moment, quivered in anticipation. I realized with a start that he was nervous; I had to break the ice.

“By Celestia, Orrick; how did you get here?”

“Magic,” He replied, using my usual retort when I didn’t want to explain something. “That’s not important. What’s important is that I’m here, and talking to you now.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Did Octavia send you?”

He shook his head.

“No, I sent myself,” he replied simply.

Orrick took a deep breath before sitting on a nearby rollie-chair. He then slid forwards, closing the distance till he was right beside me. Being so close again to him gave me strength. I felt warmth stream into my chest, filling the emptiness that had pervaded there for too long. I went to bring a hoof up to stroke his cheek, however, the binding at my left hoof kept me immobilized. Seeing this, Orrick spoke up:

“Vinyl, if I unbind you, will you fight me?”

I shook my head.

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t get very far. Please, I’ve been stuck here for weeks.”

“Actually, Vinyl, you’ve only been here for two,” the griffon informed me.

Bringing his sharp beak down, he unsnapped the bindings. As each hoof came free, I flexed them experimentally, reveling in the feeling of freedom. After I was free, he picked me up gently with his talons, and set me down on his lap; from there, he began to reassuringly preen me. Memories flooded back, bringing with them tears of relief; I’d forgotten how good it felt. Only once I was truly relaxed, did the large griffon speak up:

“Vinyl, I’m here to talk to you about Buck. I feel guilty, I feel as though it was my fault that you got hooked; I’m so sorry, I won’t ever leave you again.”

With half closed lids, I looked up at Orrick’s handsome face.

“Your fault? No, no it was mine. Please don’t be hard on yourself,” I assured, closing my eyes and pushing deep into the downy feathers of his chest.

“Well, my fault or your fault… it’s time for you to stop,” he said; his preening remained steady.

I felt a wave of sadness come over me.

“I don’t think I can; I’ll die without it!”

“Will you though?” Orrick interjected. “It’s been a little over two weeks since you’ve taken a hit, and the only reason you’re lethargic is because you haven’t gotten out of bed recently.”

He did have a point, and there was no way I was up to defend my case. For the first time, Buck became mortal; by mortal I mean something that I could now control. An inner conflict had sprung up in my chest, one that slowly eased itself to a resolution as each preening stroke from Orrick reminded me more and more of my life before it all; a life unbound by addiction, by impulse.

“Orrick, I, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m strong enough,” I whispered.

Tears began to burn at the corners of my eyes; some breaking free to roll down my chin, falling then to rest on Orrick’s chest; I felt absolutely helpless.

“Will you… help me?”

“Yes, till the very end,” he replied simply.

Time went on in silence. I was stunned over what I had just said, and Orrick, well… I didn’t know what he was thinking; all he did was stroke my mane with his beak, gently easing all the hate that I had built up against the world.

Maybe, just maybe; I can change.

Hopes of a Brighter Future

[Dark]

Local Manehatten DJ Found Dead’, the bold newspaper title stated; he read on:

‘Last night a local DJ was found collapsed outside of Vibe, a rave hall situated in Downtown Manehatten, by a mare named Penny Wise. When the ambulance arrived, the DJ was pronounced dead on site. At a glance, it looked as though the poor mare had simply fainted and knocked her head off of the cement, thus leading to her untimely death; however, Penny would tell you otherwise.

“Clearly, this was not your average victim.” Penny told the media as they sat her down for a Q and A session, hoping to figure out more about this peculiar case. “She was a Buck user, an avid one at that; I can vow to Celestia that she had OD’d on Buck.” If this in fact was the case, the ponies of Manehatten would probably believe the story. The prevalence of Buck drug trafficking has been on the rise lately, hitting headlines all over Manehatten. The police are struggling in vain to find the supplier to stem off the flow and prevent the spread of Buck to the furthest reaches of Manehatten and beyond, but little progress has been made so far. Very little is known about the effects the drug has on its users, because the fear of societal taboo keeps them constantly striving to remain under the radar…’

Orrick scanned the rest of the article and then put down the newspaper to take a sip of his coffee. As he turned to me, I looked up from the table to gaze sleepily at him.

“Can you believe that, Vinyl?”

“Believe what?” I replied, forcing back the haze of fatigue to focus my attention on my dazzling Stallion… er, Griffon friend.

“This article; a local mare in the city is rumored to have perished from an overdose of Buck.”

I felt a tremor tingle my body. I think we both knew what I was thinking. As if reading my thoughts, Orrick spoke up:

“How have you been fairing, by the way? I know it’s been a while now, but sometimes at night I hear you… well, you know, dreaming about it.” From the way his voice was clipped I could tell that he was uneasy; but trying hard to hide it. He had already assured me that he fully trusted my ability to repent the temptation and get addicted again.

Rehabilitation had been both the most wonderful, yet at the same time worse, three months of my life. Wonderful, because I got to spend more than enough time with Orrick, and together, he had been the much needed crutch that kept me on my hooves; horrible, because of the withdrawal. I still wonder if I would have been able to survive all those horrifying nights if Orrick hadn’t decided to sleep with me. Those cold nights when withdrawal would seize me in a firm vice, twisting my stomach and veins into a burning mass of need. I’d awaken screaming, or crying, or begging Orrick to get me my fix; and yet every time he would calm me right back down with a tune. Not the kind of singsong tune that a mare might sing to her foal, no, it was whistled, and as delicate as glass. The effects it would have on me were frighteningly potent, and soon, I’d fall back asleep.

“How have I been fairing?” I repeated. “Fine, but this.” I pointed at the newspaper. “This gets under my fur. Sometimes I wish I could just reach out and crush those that oppress –” I caught myself.

Damn, I shouldn’t have said that.

“You know you can, Vinyl.” Folding up the newspaper and then getting up to drop his empty mug in the kitchen, Orrick waited for my response.

“I, I can’t. Forget I even –”

“I still don’t get why you’re so apprehensive to turn Wolf in. You might be the only one in the city who can,” he said, his voice echoing slightly-a clinking of glass on metal.

Making his way back to the table, he walked past me and sat down on a nearby couch. Once comfortable, he beckoned me with a wing to come and sit beside him. With a deep breath, I got up and moved into the living room, sitting down heavily beside my mate and resting my head on his side. He continued:

“What’s so scary about this Wolf guy, anyway?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Everything,” I explained. “The way he can talk so easily; convince you to do anything.” I shuddered. “He ruined me, Orrick... and that’s scary. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

“Exactly! Don’t you want vengeance for all the times you were abused-taken advantage of?” Orrick question, clicking his beak angrily. “That bastard needs to pay.”

“So what if he does?” I retorted. “He’s crazy, Orrick. I don’t think you understand who we’d be putting ourselves up against.”

“Were not putting him up against anypony, Vinyl; just the cops. All we have to do is call the local police headquarters and tip them off. By Gadanias tail feathers, you have his bloody address posted on the fridge!”

“Then why don’t you tip off the cops then?” I demanded.

“Why do you think, Vinyl.”

I sighed.

“Because this is ‘my battle’; you’ve told me it a thousand times –”

“And I’ll tell you one thousand more.” Orrick replied compassionately; he calmed down and brought his beak to my mane. “You’ve been fighting for too long, and something tells me that if this Wolf individual is locked up, things will start turning around for the better. It’ll be like the last five months never happened.”

His comment made me think back on the time before I went out into the wide open world, before I graduated; I felt a wave of sadness overcome me.

Why couldn’t things just stay the same?

“I, I just don’t know, Orrick.”

“Do it,” he cooed. “I want my Vinyl back... dearly.”

I couldn’t suppress them anymore; tears began to well up in my eyes as my body waged a massive internal war. I felt torn; struggling to decide if I could overcome my greatest fear, and, as Orrick informed: get back to feeling like ‘me’. Happy, crazy, me. After what felt like an eternity of indecision, I finally settled. Brushing the tears away, I turned to look up at Orrick’s predatory, calming, eyes.

“I’ll do it, Orrick.

By the time I'd hung up the phone, I already felt better; still however I was apprehensive. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I hadn’t done enough; that somehow, Wolf would evade the cops and continue doing what he did. To clear my doubts, I shook my head and walked over to the sink to pour myself a glass of water. Mesmerized by how the liquid reflected the kitchen fixture, I didn’t notice that somepony-or some griffon at that-was standing behind me.

Turning with a start, Orrick came into view; he was smiling.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“Fine,” I replied. “But I still feel… off.”

“Yes, that would make sense. You feeling off, I mean,” the griffon pointed out.

“Really?”

“Yes. You’ve just severed a string-a connection with another. Good or bad, your body is trying to figure out if it should feel relieved… or panicked.”

“Do you know when I’ll stabilize then; come to a conclusion?” I questioned.

“By tomorrow morning, I’d imagine. Speaking of tomorrow, I’m going to bed… will you join me?”
I nodded, yawning conclusively.

“Good.” He brought his wings up and pulled me close; together, we walked up the stairs and into our room.

When I woke up, I noticed that it was still night, and that the house seemed oddly still. With a groan, I rolled out of bed and grabbed my water glass, the one I brought up with me last night; it was empty. Looking at my clock, I took note that it was three in the morning. With a sleepy sigh, I crossed my room and opened the door. Before me, the shaded hallway and stairs appeared. Trying not to creek the floorboards, I crept downstairs; drawn like a moth to the one light in the kitchen that I’d usually keep on to make my nightly excursions easier.

At the fridge now, I poured myself some orange juice and sat down at the rounded kitchen table. It was then that I felt as though something was… different. A cold draft was billowing through the house; an open window, perhaps? Getting up, I started making my way around the ground floor, searching for the rouge pane that was letting the house freeze. As I entered the main hall-the one that connected the front entrance to the rest of the house-I noticed with a jolt that the front door was open.

Screwing up my face, I attempted to cast my magic and close it. This failed, however, because my abilities were still in the process of becoming potent again. Frustrated, I cantered over to the entrance and closed the door manually. Hoofsteps behind me, and before I could even turn, a rag was pushed against my muzzle. I blacked out.

As I slowly became conscious, the world swam; closing my eyes tightly shut, I let the feeling of vertigo pass. When I again opened my eyes, I took note that I was still in my house, but not in the place I had left off; I was in the basement. Confused beyond measures, I tried to stand up, finding however that I was bound to a large support beam. Panic began to set in, a bout that only intensified once a familiar earth pony came out of the shadows.

Somehow, Wolf had found me.

My jaw went slack and I began to hyperventilate; an attempt to scream for Orrick only ended up in a mumbled gargle as the bit in my mouth prevented me from vocalizing my fear.

“Have you forgotten your manners, Vinyl? Is that how you greet old friends?”

I growled at him.

“And now you're half dog! Well, we do have some catching up to do.” He replied, amused at his own sick humor. “Why, was the griffon not good enough for you, bitch? Did you find a stray… a diamond dog, perhaps, to get it on with one lonely night? That’s kinda sexy.”

I slit my eyes and clenched down on the bit, attempting to relay my feeling of disgust.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Miss DJ Pon3-if I can even call you a DJ anymore. I think that dream of yours has been effectively deflated. Woops,” He added for good measure. “I’m so sorry for wrecking that little love of yours, but business is business, you know.” He drawled off, only to return again on a more sinister note. “Oh, and guess what? Some cops showed up at my hangout yesterday. Arrested my ponies-attempted-to arrest me. Did you know that when a pony’s cutie mark is cut, they feel as though their very identity is being severed?”

Pulling off one of his hoof socks, Wolf revealed two items: A knife, and a shot of Buck. My eyes widened in horror; finding myself more afraid of the syringe, then the blade. To my twisted relief, he pulled out the hoofblade. Cantering over to my bound figure, he pressed his body against mine and kissed me on the cheek.

“When a pony’s cutie mark is being threatened, they will go to the extents of ratting out one of their own, or perhaps a client of theirs. A client that tipped them off over a phone call; a once-upon-a-time DJ, perchance, that thought that it was safe to spill her guts.” I began to sweat. “Oh, I forgot how appealing you were, Vinyl.” Wolf jumped topic, grinding up against my chest. He licked my sweaty face. “I can taste you fear.”

Bringing the knife up, he severed the rope that was holding me to the beam. With a muffled shout, I fell muzzle first onto the cold cement floor, bashing my snout off the ground; the blood that spilled forth dripped down my face, staining my creamy white fur red. Wolf descended on me again, mounting me with a satisfied grunt; my hooves were still tied, so there was no way I could defend myself for what was to come. As he shifted his weight on my rear, he brought the hoofblade to my neck.

“Vinyl, you could never stop me-you were always too weak; too controlled by your feminine instinct. The only reason I’m not going to kill you is because you’re a customer; I respect my customers.”

I shook my head, expressing that I was no customer of his; he seemed to pick up on my defiance.

“You think you’re not a customer anymore? You think you’ve escaped from Buck? You haven’t, it’s impossible. Don’t you want to feel it again; the adrenalin, the freedom… the elation.” He nibbled my ear seductively.

I closed my eyes, feeling my body relax as I recalled the wondrously freeing, rainbow colored elixir of…

No.

I would never take that poison again. I shook my head for a second time; it was the only dignifying thing I could do. Above, I felt Wolf tense angrily.

“And who ever said that you had a choice?” I felt a prick on my flank, and I immediately realized what he was attempting. There was no way I’d let him apprehend me, not this time. Tensing with all my might, I prevented the entrance of the syringe into my hide, effectively bending the needle.

“Luna dammit!” I heard Wolf hiss.

Though I didn’t see him throw the syringe away-with my head cocked to the side-I caught sight of its path. It sailed through the air before crashing against the far wall; I smiled triumphantly. My victory was short lived, however, as I felt Wolf grab my mane in his jaw, and yank me up. Dragging me across the room, he propped me against the wall, holding me there with a hoof.

“Looks like somepony is all grown up! Rehab must have done wonders. Normally, I would congratulate you; for you, my dear Vinyl, are the first pony to ever get off my drug. However, with your recent inclination here to not co-operate, I have to treat you a little differently.” He brought the blade to my cutie mark. “Did you know they say that losing your cutie mark is the worst thing a pony can experience; they say it’s worse than rape, or torture… you should have picked the other option; I was going to rape you.”

I felt another shiver riddle my body.

“Now however-only because I’m generous-I suppose I'll just resort to torture.”

His blade left my flank, creeping up to my front hooves. Though my snout had stopped bleeding, the aftermath was still present; aside from my bloody face, a few drips of the red liquid were splattered cross my body as well. Jamming his blade between my hoof, he twisted viciously, reviling the nerves beneath and electing a scream of surprise as my body registered the immense amount of pain that came with the action. I struggled violently, but that only made his assault more aggressive. From the way his musk began to assault my nostrils, I could tell that my struggling was only encouraging him to continue. I stopped, and he brought the blade down on my hoof again, this time, completely slicing a section of my nerves beneath the hardened shell. I screamed again, and hot tears began to fall down my cheeks.

Celestia save me! Please, please make it stop!

It was then that I saw it-something that rekindled my hope. Orrick stood at the entrance of the basement with a lead pipe clenched in his talons. He saw me staring and he nodded reassuringly. As he slipped away, I returned my gaze to Wolf.

“How does that feel?” Wolf asked. “I don’t know about you, but I’m having a great time!” He smiled in a most predatory manner, and his eyes glinted sickly. “Shall we move on to the other hooves?”

I viciously shook my head, begging him with my eyes to stop. He nodded.

“Alright then, I respect that; how about we move onto the, uh, lower areas.” My heart skipped a beat, and my body went clammy.

He wouldn’t dare…

“Yes?” In response, I shook my head viciously. “Yes! Oh, aren’t you adventurous.”

“I’ll take it slow don’t –” when the pipe came down on Wolf’s head, his voice caught and he turned around. His blade detached from his hoof and slid out of reach. Blood started to spill from the gash. “And who do we have here?” His voice was garbled, woozy, and I was amazed that he hasn't collapsed yet.

“Orrick; and you?” Orrick whispered darkly.

To this date, I never heard him speak so coldly before. I found myself forcing down the fear, keeping in mind that he was still the friendly griffon I knew; just a little angry.

“Wolf. Come to join the–” The bludgeon came down again, smashing Wolf’s muzzle and making him fall to the floor.

Ok, very angry.

“Oh, you hit hard!” Wolf chided, attempting to laugh, but gagging on his own blood instead as it welled up in his throat. The earth pony attempted to get up again, but wobbled and fell, coughing some more.

Shaking his head in disgust, Orrick sidestepped around the bloody pony and made his way towards me. When our gazes met, my griffon-friend’s eyes softened; I could see the tears beginning to form in the corners of them. Brining his beak down, he severed the rope that bound me, and yanked out the bit. As I collapsed, too weak to move on my own, he caught me, slowly easing me down onto the ground. Taking a step back, he looked at my abused body.

“What in the name of Gadania did he do to you?” he asked.

“Too much.” I replied; Orrick deflated.

“I’m so, so sorry I brought this on you, Vinyl. I don’t know, I didn’t think…” I brought my good hoof up to rest on his beak.

“You did the right thing, Orrick. I’m still alive, right? As for Wolf, well… what are you going to do to him?”

“Finish me off.” We both turned to look at Wolf, who had propped himself on his hind hooves. “Get it over with!” he hissed.

I felt Orrick swell hatefully beside me. Puffing out his chest, he picked up the lead pip and advanced aggressively on the downed earth pony,

“Oh, I’d love to, scum.” Raising his weapon high, Orrick went to bring it down on the dying stallion’s head.

“No!” I exclaimed, stopping Orrick in his tracks; he turned and looked questioningly at me. “I won’t let you stoop down to his level.”

Orrick lowered his claws.

“Vinyl?” he pleaded. “This has to be done! Don’t you think that if I or you were in that position, lying on the floor like that, he wouldn’t do the same thing?

“Oh, he would; but we aren’t him.” I exclaimed. “How about this: we keep him locked down here, call the cops, and have him arrested. Besides, if we kill him, we could be put under the spotlight for murder!” From the way Orrick hesitated, I knew my sense was getting to him.

“Ya, well, nopony will miss him. We’d probably be doing the cops a favor by killing this monster.” Contradicting his words, however, Orrick tossed the pipe out of the way. “But this is your fight, and if that’s what you want to do... I’ll agree to it.”

I felt my heart lighten gratefully. Suddenly, I could breathe again.

“Thank you, Orrick. Thank you so much.”

With a hesitant nod, Orrick put me onto his back, and together, we made it up the stairs, locking the basement door firmly shut behind us. As the door closed, Wolfs begging to kill him was cut short.

Of Griffers and Alignments

A jolt woke me up from my peaceful slumber. Rousing, I moved my head from Orrick’s side to sit upright in the lightly rocking carriage.

“Finally!” Orrick exclaimed, stretching his wings and groaning softly. “I thought you’d never get up.”

“You were comfortable.” I murmured, rubbing up against him and smiling. “I had no inclinations to move.”

“Comfortable or not,” Orrick countered with a smirk, “I’m a griffon, not a body pillow!” His smirk manifested into a chuckle-one which I eventually joined in on.

Once we had calmed, I spoke up:

“Say, what did that note from Celestia read again?” I asked.

Orrick shrugged.

“I don’t remember. You have it on you though; I think you put it in your saddlebag before you dozed off.”

“Really?” I asked, slightly doubtful.

After a little effort on my behalf, I brought my magic to my horn and started rummaging through my saddlebag. I could have easily done the task in a more mundane way, but then again, if I ever hoped to bring my magic up to par with how it was before my Buck episode, I’d need to give it as much exercise as I could.

After a moment or two, my object of desire was attained; I floated it out to hover in front of Orrick’s beak. Raising a feathered eyebrow, Orrick began to vocalize what he saw on the parchment in front of him.

‘Dear Vinyl Scratch and Orrick Headwind,

You have been invited as guests of honor to attend the royal Canterlot wedding, where my niece, Princess Cadence, and her fiancée, Shining armor, are engaging. In accordance to the recent Changeling invasion, an extra checkpoint at the main gate has been established to ensure that you are you…’

I’d heard about the Changeling attack, and the trip through the damaged villas and bungalows of Ponyville swiftly brought the magnitude of the devastation to a blatant reality. I counted my blessings. If I hadn’t decided to move back to Manehatten, I would have been caught in the midst of the drama that unfolded mere weeks before. I returned my attention to Orrick, who had started reading again.

‘…This note, signed by me, will double as physical tickets as well. Once you two have cleared the checkpoint, please present this parchment as verification to the Ticketmaster at the main gate.

Signed,

Princess Celestia’

Orrick folded up the parchment and placed it back in my Saddlepack.

“There you have it!” he exclaimed.

“I do. Hey, do you know how much longer it’ll be till we get to the gates?” I asked, looking out at the rolling scenery.

“No, but I can ask.”

Orrick stuck his head out the window, addressing the lead stallion pulling the carriage:

“Hey, you.”

The carriage rolled to stop.

“Yes, sir?” The muffled response from the lead pony came to my ears.

“What’s the eta?” Orrick asked.

“Fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Thank you.” He said, pulling his head back into the cabin and turning to me. “Did you catch that?”

I nodded my confirmation as the carriage started up again.

As we rounded a corner, Canterlot, with its lavish décor and silver trimmed spires, appeared. The feat of architecture itself was enough to amaze me, so when the castle of Luna and Celestia came into view around the peak of the mountain-rising above Canterlot like a lone goliath-I forgot to breathe. I might have knocked myself out if the carriage hadn’t stopped; prompting me to get off.

As I walked up to the checkpoint, Orrick counted out some bits and paid for the taxi ride. When I arrived, a burly looking pegasi stallion, wearing a fine set of armor, stopped me in my tracks.

“Identify yourself,” he demanded.

Taking out the parchment, I levitated Celestias note over to the waiting guard and he lapsed into silence. Almost immediately, his stern gaze softened as he recognized something on the sheet.

“Wait, you’re Vinyl… DJ Pon3?” I nodded, and his grin spread. “It’s an honor, ma’am.” He raised a hoof and I bumped it.

“And where is your lucky pony-friend?”

“Orrick?” I questioned.

“Yes. That’s the other name on the page, right?” he clarified.

“It is,” I replied. “However, Orrick is a griffon.”

“A Griffer?” the guards tone dropped.

“Pardon me?” I said, surprised at the rude term. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yes.” The guard replied; I felt myself bristle.“He’s a griffon, you’re a pony; isn’t that sort of self-explanatory?”

In a sudden turn of events, I found myself hating the guard with all my being.

“Griffon, pony, donkey-by Luna-dragon! What’s the difference? Don’t you think that if there’s a mutual love connection between two individuals-species aside-it’s fine?!”

“No.”

I went to retort, but caught myself.

“Listen, I’m not here to argue. I was told that there was a mandatory test I and Orrick had to take before we were let in.”

“Yes, there is.” The guard replied.

“I thought so.” I shot back. “So instead of gawking, would you please perform it? I don’t think Celestia is paying you to throw racist slurs at the guests passing through.”

“Correct, she isn’t; Luna is. I’m part of the night shift. She’s told us that we need to keep a firm reign on potential shit disturbers.”

“Law breakers?” I repeated. “Are you telling me that before you’ve even seen Orrick, you think he’s going to be a threat?”

“Yes. Listen, Miss Vinyl; like it or not, Griffons and ponies have had a long standing feud—” I cut him off.

“Had, a long standing feud; the treaty was signed years ago!”

“Well, Canterlot has a tendency to hold on to things.” The guard shot back pointedly.

I went to interject, but then stopped; clearly, I was not going to get anywhere with him. What’s more, Orrick was coming up the trail.

“Vinyl, is everything alright?” He shouted, his soft voice drifting to me on the wind.

After giving a final disgusted look, I turned and met Orrick half way up the path.

“No.” I replied, scowling bitterly. “They aren’t going to let you in.”

“But I was invited!” Orrick exclaimed. “Why not?”

“Apparently, Mr. Checkpoint-Stallion over there has some qualms with you,” I replied spitefully

“Qualms; what sorts? He hasn’t even met me yet!”

“He’s blabbering on about pony superiority.”

“Pony superiority; by Gadanias tail feathers that’s absolutely foalish!”

“Well, foalish or not,” I grumbled. “He’s our ticket in.”

“Let me talk to the stallion, see if I can put some sense into his brain.”

I cringed slightly; the last thing I needed was a scene at the entrance. This DJ gig meant so much for me, and I’d hate for it to get ruined. The fact that Celestia even gave me a chance after my Buck problem was, well, heaven-sent; and this was my opportunity to bring back my carrier.

I trailed behind Orrick, far enough to allow him his room, but close enough to intervene with my magic if things got out of hoof.

“Gentlecolt?” Orrick greeted, approaching the Guard Pony. Looking as if he’d just seen a snake, the guard scrunched up his face and scowled.

“What do you want, Griffer? I’m guessing that you’re the featherhead Miss Scratch over there landed with?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but yes.” Though Orrick’s voice remained even, the slightest raising of his shoulder blades told me that he was offended; I found myself hating the guard even more.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. So, why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here,” Orrick said pointedly.

“Well, it’s not going to happen.” The guard replied. “The day I let a filthy griffon like you past my checkpoint, is the day I’ll raise my ass up and moon Luna—” a slight chuckle.

Orrick was not amused; I could tell that the stallion’s ignorance was getting to him. Taking an aggressive step forwards, he puffed out his chest and addressed the guard venomously.

“Listen here, Sir. I don’t know why I’m putting up with your foalish antics, but this is getting ridiculous. All we want to do is get in. You’ll never have to see me again, and clearly, I’m trusted. Celestia wouldn’t have added my name if she didn’t trust me.”

“Trusted or not, the only way you’re going to get in is over my dead body. Worthless half-half’s like you are not welcome here.”

I felt my blood boil. This guard was really, really, getting under my skin. The fact that he was being so rude sent me reeling; was there even room for such prejudice anymore? Clearly, there was. All I wanted to do at the moment was go up to that basterd, and shove my unicorn horn up his precious little you-know-what. Re-engaging myself with the conversation, I took note that Orrick’s tone had become icy. I concluded that if a fight broke out, I’d let Orrick get a few hits in before I broke them up; Celestia knows that Guard Pony deserved it.

“Over your dead body, eh?” Orrick growled. “I can arrange that, you know.”

Whelp, here it comes.

You; take on a royal guard? I doubt that. I’d bet those light bones of yours would break if I hit you once.” The guard stopped momentarily to drop his pike. “So how about we call it a night and you fly back to that shithole you call home.”

“How about you close that damn muzzle of yours and put it up. I can tell you’re all neigh, and no bite.”

“Hay, I guess I could have some fun with you; why not? I think it’s about time a pony beats a griffon again; that war must have been a hard hit, no?”

Instead of replying however, Orrick began to circle the guard. Tension. Unease. Frustration. Figuring that things were about to go down, I relaxed and began to loosen up my mind-allowing the flow of magic to creep in.

The moon was nestled in the sky, and the three of us, just like old times, sat side by side on a terrace overlooking Canterlot. The DJing gig had gone over better than I’d expected, and I found-to my greatest joy-that the colors I used to be able to see had returned. After the party, I, Octavia-who happened to be a guest of honor as well- and Orrick, retreated from the rowdy crowd of drunken mares and stallions to sit where we sat now. It was indeed as if the last few months had never happened.

“You don’t say!” Octavia exclaimed as I finished up telling my story. “And Celestia appeared right before you? What did it feel like?” I sort of stopped at that, recalling Princess Celestias vibrant appearance when Orrick and that ass-the checkpoint stallion- started fighting.

Orrick, as expected, had quickly gotten the upper hoof-err-talon on the guard, and I was about to cast my levitation spell when the sun goddess herself teleported in. It was such a jaw dropping scene-and I tell you, my jaw dropped- such a fearful scene. Though at the time, the first inklings of night battling with day had swathed the sky in an orange sunset, Celestia glowed with an almost supernatural light; one that had no heat, but blazed brilliantly. What’s more interesting however, was her mane; a myriad something that looked oddly celestial.

“What did it feel like? That’s something I can hardly explain, Octy; it was… unreal.” I stopped to take a deep drink of my cider mug, blanching slightly as the strong taste hit my tongue; as if I’d initiated a movement, Octavia and Orrick took a drink as well. “Here was Celestia, one of our deities… arriving to stand above me! The interesting thing though was that she felt pony; it was almost like, if I’d known her in another life, we could be friends. I guess I always thought the goddess to be, well, more goddess-like! She wasn’t though, she was, she was…” I couldn’t spit the right words out.

Sensing my stutter, Orrick started the story up again:

“When Celestia appeared, Vinyl’s levitation spell was not needed. I know Celestia isn’t my deity, but you can bet your eggs that I quickly realized that I should respect her. Jumping off the guard, I bowed beside him deeply, rising with Vinyl only when I was told. The checkpoint stallion was then spoken to by Celestia, and I could see that he was humbled by the time she had finished. He had turned to Vinyl and I, asked up some questions to make sure we were who we said we were, and then let us through without a grumble.”

Octavia snickered.

“By Celestia, I’d be humbled as well if the goddess came down and talked to me directly; not to mention frightened to no ends.”

“You’ve got it!” I exclaimed, taking back control of the conversation. “I tried telling Orrick that as well, but he wouldn’t listen.” I laughed, allowing my cider-heavy head to fall against Orrick’s chest.

Smiling he wrapped a wing around me and pulled me close. Octavia grinned.

“Look at you two lovebirds… no pun intended, Orrick.”

“No pun taken,” he chuckled.

Octavia continued:

“And to think where we all were only a few months ago.”

“It’s amazing how fast things can… change.” I murmured into Orrick’s downy feathers. The mood plummeted. Quickly, Octavia piped in, stopping things before they got dramatic.

“Yes, change can happen fast. Vinyl, you’ve changed… for the better. You’re such a stronger mare now. Personally, I don’t think you’ll ever fall to temptation again.”

Her words filled me with courage, and I raised my head a bit to smile at the gray cellist.

“Thank you.” I said.

“Don’t mention it.” she returned.

We lapsed into silence. With a hiccup, Octavia broke the bubble.

“I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?” Orrick repeated, raising a feathered eyebrow.

“Yes. You two have it so good; I need a mate.”

“There was a pony checking you out-a stallion-when you were at the party; I saw him from the DJ stand. I think it was one of Cadences brothers.” I smiled coyly. “I’d bet snagging him would lead to endless bonuses.” Lazily, I rolled off of Orrick to hoof her lightly in the shoulder.

She rolled her eyes.

“Stallions are all the same; I’m looking for a mare-friend.”

Did she just tell me she was a fillyfooler?

“Vinyl, did you see any?”

I shook my head, attempting to cover up my surprise with the sudden turn of events.

“Er, um… no. I didn’t, I didn’t know you liked mares.”

My words jolted Octavia, and suddenly, she seemed to be sober. Her eyes widened in horror and she perked up, blushing heavily as she realized that she had just told her friends where she stood relationship wise.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean. I know it’s bad but… oh!” Octavia blathered, getting up to make a mad dash for the door.

Orrick jumped up to stop her, but I was faster, using my magic to hold the doors shut as she attempted to fling them open.

“Octavia, wait,” I said, bracing as my friend continued her pulling. “Wait!”

The gray mare stopped struggling and dropped her head. Letting out a moan, she collapsing against the door and fell to the ground in a heap. I got up and trotted towards my distraught friend; resting my head on her shoulder and pulling her close.

“Look at me.” I murmured; she shook her head and shivered bitterly.

“I can’t, Vinyl; I’m too embarrassed. I know my alignment’s wrong, slewed, different… but, but I can’t help it I –”

“Stop jumping to conclusions,” I scolded. “Are you crazy? What made you think I’d not accept you for who are? By Celestia, it was only this evening that I was preaching to that jerk-off checkpoint stallion about equality. What makes you so different from me, or Orrick?”

“Everything!” Octavia began, tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t you see Vinyl, I like mares, mares! You like stallions. I can’t repopulate, you can… the list is endless. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve tried resisting, tried going out with stallions-but every single time I’ve felt… empty.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking mares, Octy.” I cooed. “Hay, you should have told me earlier… I might have been able to help.”

“So, so you don’t hate me?”

“No, silly.” I said, hugging her. “You’re still the Octavia I’ve always known in my eyes… Orrick.”

We both turned to look at the griffon that was a few paces back, watching in silence. He nodded encouragingly.

“Really?” Octavia pulled away from my embrace to look into my eyes. “You guys don’t mind?”

“No, we don’t.” I concluded. Now stop sobbing and grab a drink. To my greatest triumph, I heard Octavia chuckle.

Disaster… averted.

“I do have a question though.” I mentioned, helping Octavia get up from the ground.

“Yes?”

“How did you find out about your alignment?”

Octavia froze up by my side, and her face flushed a new sheet of crimson. I had an epiphany, and I found myself subconsciously flushing red as well.

“You know what, that’s a story for another day.” I replied.

Octavia nodded sheepishly, and we got back in the position that we’d left as the drama unfolded. Orrick sat back down; I fell back against his chest and Octavia… well, Octavia leaned in, but this time, rested her black maned head against my shoulder.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” I said. The other two nodded in agreement.

Bridge: Completing the Circle

The scene was set, the spoils of planning reaped, the anticipation-the excitement-surging through me; tonight was the night. The beginning of the end, as Octavia had jokingly mentioned earlier on.

Marriage.

If you were to ask me five years ago what I thought about marriage, I’d laugh and shake my head; telling you it was out of the option. Now, the very notion was what drove me every day. The idea of settling down and having a family was appealing, a goal that I wanted to make a reality. The goal I would make a reality in about fifteen minutes. I saw a collection of ponies and griffons congregated, mingling, interacting; their chatter coming together to create a delicate ambiance of gentle voices, spiked occasionally by an enthusiastic exclamation or two. Looking amidst the congregation, I spotted some of Octavia’s relatives, talking merrily amongst Orrick’s, who were-for obvious reasons-easy to pick out. Neither Octavia nor Orrick were anywhere in sight. This was as I suspected.

As the Matrimony Stallion cantered onto the stage and rang a bell, the audience stilled, quickly moving back to their spots; their voices fell to hushed whispers.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts, Griffons, you are all here today to witness the marriage of two unique lovers under Celestia’s sky. Two lovers who have broken away from the norm, driven by love, and now would like to marry. If there are any objections, please stand.”

The audience remained sitting, casting furtive glances around challengingly. The Matrimony Stallion nodded.

“No pony or griffon has objected. We will now move onto the matrimonial service. May Vinyl Scratch, the bride, step onto the stage?”

Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I parted the curtains and cantered out.

“May her mate…”

The audience turned to look down the aisle at the double doors at the entrance of the Matrimony house; after an impossibly long second, they swung open slowly on their well-oiled hinges.

“May her mate…”

As my mate descended the aisle, the ponies and griffons that were passed by nodded reassuringly, murmuring words of encouragement as their object of pride walked past them.

“May her mate, Orrick Headwind, come to the stage.”

Clearing the final pew, Orrick stepped up the three stairs to stand in front of me. His eyes were gleaming with excitement and tenderness. I could only return the look, cupping a hoof around one of his cheeks and stroking him there.

“It’s happening,” I whispered.

“I know,” he replied, bringing his beak down to stroke me once in return.

We both turned our attention towards the Matrimony Stallion as he continued:

"Here in front of us now, Orrick Headwind and Vinyl Scratch will fulfill the marriage pact. May our groom commence?”

“I will,” Orrick started, fixing me in a gaze that made me melt on the inside. By Luna! I wanted to skip the service and get right to the kissing. “I, Orrick Headwind, propose my affection to one very beautiful Vinyl Scratch. Through Celestia’s Day and Luna’s Night, I will stand by her side and support her. Through Celestia’s Wisdom and Luna’s Wit, I will defend, protect, and nurture her. Only in death will we part.”

“And Vinyl?” the stallion said, turning to me.

The resolution, the finality, the very notion of being beside Orrick till we grow old and pass on was both amazing and fulfilling. So lost in my thoughts was I, that I almost missed the cue to speak on my behalf.

“I, Vinyl Scratch…” I repeated the vow, saying the same thing that Orrick had, but with him as the subject. “…Only in death will we part.”

With my vows done, the Matrimony Stallion turned to the audience.

“There you have it. May the Bearer approach?”

From the far end of the isle, the doors that Orrick had arrived through swung open again. Octavia appeared, carrying two twin necklaces on a bust that sported a sapphire and a white gold horn. When she got to where we were standing, she smiled briefly before turning to the matrimonial stallion and giving him the bust. He uttered a brief ‘thank you’ before turning to address me and my mate for a final time. In silence, he gave us each a necklace before backing up; it was up to us to finalize the pact.

“Let’s do this,” I said.

I let out a shaky breath as I rose the necklace up and around Orrick’s neck with my magic. It fit perfectly, sitting handsomely around his broad base.

“Let’s,” he murmured.

Bringing up his own necklace, he placed it around my neck with his talons. The thin metal chain felt… right, for a lack of better words; I was too excited to think straight.

It was done. I, Vinyl Scratch, was now married, married, to Orrick. And you know what? I didn’t regret a thing about it.

I felt a presence behind me, and I turned to greet it. Orrick stood, his plumage swathed in the vibrancy of the early morning light show. He yawned and fell beside me, his larger frame providing an excellent pillow to rest my head against.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured; I nodded a response.

For moments we sat in silence, each lost in our own realms of thought. Big things were on the horizon; vibrant things.

“The foals; how are they?”

“Sleeping thankfully,” I replied, my voice distant as I continued to gaze. “Luna knows I need a break.”

Oh, the fun's just starting!” Orrick exclaimed. “Let’s see how we fare once they’re actually born.”

I brought a hoof up and hit him lightly; my blow glanced off his shoulder. Lowering my hoof, I brought it to the bulge at my stomach.

"Yes, lets see."

We resumed our staring as the new day crested the horizon.

Written in Ink (Pt 1.)

Big thanks to Soto for the editing job. If only I had him before I got rejected from EqD!

Diary entry 23:

So I started writing in this old thing again. Looking back on the older stuff, I found myself lost in memories; mostly bad memories because the last time I wrote in this, I was trying to cope with Dawnfire’s battle with wing rot. However, I need to get things off my chest, and I think-with Orrick gone on business trips across Equestria so often nowadays-It’ll be a good outlet.

Where to start?

Being an aging mare, I can really tell how much time changes things, it always does, and I’m seeing before me my past life fading into history; giving way to new endeavors, goals, objectives. For example: Octavia had broken the news to me and Orrick just two days ago that she had been granted a prestigious opportunity to play and learn overseas. To quote her, she justified her trip as an ‘excellent learning opportunity from the essential founders of music’. Celestia knew I’d never stop her, but could anypony blame me for feeling desperate? Octavia has been a big figure in my life, and could be held accounted for all I was now. Who knows, if I never ran into her at that bar; would I still be a busker?

Diary entry 29

Like any rightful pony, I still wanted to keep some traces of my old life with me; like a foal that has to sleep with her stuffed dog every night. I think I’ve found it: Music. It’s been with me since the beginning; it’ll be with me till I die… my own little stuffed dog. I’ve applied to the Music Academy in Manehattan, and I’m waiting for a response. I think it would be amazing if I could teach there. In other news, Octavia is set and ready to leave Equestria. I applaud her for her bravery; I’ve never be able to do what she’s doing. The world is big, yes, but I’m perfectly happy with my little Equestrian slice!

Diary entry 42

I’m depressed-hopelessly-for the matter. I just need to write down everything that’s going on.
For starters, Orrick and got into a fight. It started as a small squabble; we were deciding on the color of the foal’s room. Quickly though, it elevated. It ended when I said something hurtful. He sort of went still then and dropped it. If I could rewind time, I’d change the course of that argument, take everything back. Life isn’t like that though; you don’t get second chances.
I didn’t get the position I was looking for in The Music Academy. Some boring pony with a little more experience stole it from right under my hooves. She might be knowledgeable, but she sure as hay lacked all sorts of communication skills that I excelled in! I bet it was my Buck addiction that really decided it though. Who would want a once-addict teaching the new line up of great musicians?

Speaking of Buck, last night I had a craving for it, and it was terrifying. I don’t know why, or maybe I do. I haven’t really been getting much sleep-the children are keeping me restless-and all this stress recently is getting under my fur. If only Octavia was here to talk to. I miss her dearly, and she’s only been gone for a month! At least we’re keeping in touch via letters. She seems to be having a great time, and I’m happy for her. At least one of us is doing fine….

Diary Entry 60

I’m suffocating; drowning in a pool of my own wretched misery. This is stupid. Orrick and I have come to terms, but I still don’t have work, and Octavia has stopped sending letters! The last time she wrote, it was about her running into a fine mare at a restaurant. I hope she hasn't forgotten about me, or even worse, replaced me. That would push me over, I think; I hope not. Maybe one day, when my foals are grown up and graduated, and I’ve gotten a job, a well-paying one that allows Orrick to ease off on his traveling, I can look back on this entry and shake my head. But for now, I’ve yet to find an exit.

Craving for various things are coming back, Buck and alcohol mostly. I’m pushing those thoughts aside for now; my unborn foals and Orrick are keeping me under control, but mostly my unborn foals. I know all too well the risk one takes when consuming alcohol during pregnancy. Buck, on the other hoof is a mystery to me, though I have a strong feeling that it won’t help. Maybe when they’re born, I can indulge.

I’m thinking of mentioning the cravings to Orrick; Celestia knows that I need his protection now more than ever. At the same time though, I’m hesitant; it would be unfair to drag him back in. I think I have to face this on my own.

Diary entry 9001

Ha! I’m week, useless. At the same time though, I feel good! Reall, really, really good. I can smile again, but everything is a bit fazy. I bet the foals are having a good time in my stomach as well, a little young to be drinking. BAD FOALS! But I’m not on Buck atleast, never again will I be. Nope, double nope. Triple, mabey, or mabey just double. List of alcohol time!
-Two shots of Maregarita, some wonderful half and half Applejack Daniels/soda, another shooter, or mabey two or three… five? See, I forget; means it’s working. More mixers, and now, just Peach Vodka.

Yep, that’s a lot of drink. I should do this more often, it makes me feel so happy, and warm, and very aroused. I would get up and hoof myself senseless if it weren’t for how spinny things are. I could open up that magazine, or, or imagine Orrick and I in bed together; he’s so dominating! YAY! Oh, I just remembered he’s off on a trip of somesort. Silly me! I wouldent be drinking if it wernet for his lack-of-precence. He’d be angry to know I was drinking with foals in my stomach and

Diary entry 66

No. No, no, no, no, no! This is not good. I’m such an idiot! My foals, they could be deformed, I could have ruined their lives; and all because I was stupid enough to succumb to this stupid depression. Orrick still hasn’t returned from his trip to Ponyville, I have the worst hangover, and I’ve poisoned my foals. Did I mention I’ve POISONED MY FOALS? As I write this, my mind is filling up with images of crippled pegasi, hollow-horn unicorns, splinter-hoof earth ponies, and blind or deaf griffons. I’m so disappointed with my behavior, and I’d tell myself that I would never do something like drink excessively again if it weren’t for the fact that I probably will. What’s next, Buck? Ya right, that’ll fuck them up to no ends! Then again, I’m one fucked up unicorn, so maybe we’d fit in with one another.

But this self-loathing is getting me nowhere. I need to step up. I’m going to talk to Orrick when he gets back from his trip to Ponyville; it was foalish of me to hesitate so long. I’m a middle-aged mare now, not some young adult with too much to do, or too little, I suppose.

Diary entry 70

I feel like I’m in Canterlot Palace right after a changeling attack. Checkpoints at my front entrance, close scrutiny on my behavior… but you know what? I like it. I ended up telling Orrick about what happened. I thought he was going to be angry, but he wasn't. He was compassionate, and immediately promised that as long as I was his mate; he’d do everything in his power to make sure I was under control. It’s times like now that I remember what drew me to Orrick in the first place, what kept me loving him through the rocky road I tread, what made me marry him in the end. He was selfless and kind.

By Luna and Celestia, I've made many, many mistakes in my life; mistakes that I've gotten over, resolved, or even still await the results of. But in all of that, the one definite good choice I made was picking Orrick. I’m just afraid of what’s to come of my foals.

Diary entry 76

I’m a mother! A mother of two… something’s (and I mean that in the nicest way). We’ve yet to decide exactly what I and Orrick created, but by Celestia’s grace, all that matters is that they are healthy. I can hear them laughing with their father in the room beside me; it’s such a fulfilling sound. I was so scared, so very scared that my mistake would ruin their lives. Yet again, Orrick helped me in my time of need. In secrecy, I wish that he would suffer over something so that I may repay him by helping him through it. I feel as though no amount of words could really relay my thankfulness, only actions. Sensual actions, loving actions, and now, being-a-good-non-alcoholic-non-Buck-addict-mother actions as well! Oh, they’re starting to cry. I’d best end this diary. I wanted to write a description of them in this entry, but my time has run out. Tomorrow it is then!

Written in Ink (Pt 2.)

Edited by Soto Konoha

Diary Entry 77

‘Hippogriff: a creature born from the unnatural breeding between a griffon and a pony; often the outcome of non-consensual intercourse.’ That’s what the textbook says. If Equestria’s most unbiased book-written by a stallion who’s said to be the most unbiased pony-hints towards a hate of griffon and pony mating habits, how will today’s society look at it? I hope with all my heart that the History of Equestria: It’s Ponies and Land is a recollection of past mindsets, not modern. I still need to be cautious though. Already, I’m thinking of providing home schooling until I can assure myself that my children will be safe.

Diary Entry 124

Octavia sent me a note a few days ago, and though it’s been almost a year since we last talked, we quickly got back into the swing of things. I had lots to tell her, she had more. Apparently I had been replaced, but it was in a way I could agree to; Octavia got married. Sure it was a quick transition; meet the mare, and then, one year later, marry her, but she seemed sure that it was the right choice. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely support her, but can I be blamed for wishing it never happened? This means there’s an even smaller chance that she’ll return to Manehattan.

I had a dream about her last night; we were sitting together, talking over a cup of coffee like we always used to do. It was rainy outside, and we were just… talking. At one point in the conversation I heard hoof steps. At first, I put them off, but as they approach nearer, I stop and turn. A shadowy mare approaches, and Octy’s attention shifts. Without a word, and headless to my begging, she gets up and walks off.

Weird dream, right; I’m haunted by that dream. It’s preventing me from being truly happy that my good friend finally found her match.

Oh, I miss her dearly.

Diary entry 310

Today’s the day! Ren and Rorrick are having their third birthday; my, have they grown. I’m going to be taking them to the park, the one I used to busker at, actually; Fourhoof. I’m nervous. Today will be the first time they have the opportunity to interact with other ponies, and I pray to Celestia that they will be received nicely. I know it’s only foals, but I’m going to use this opportunity to decide whether or not I should enroll them in homeschooling, or public. Private is out of the picture because I’m still jobless, and we won’t be making enough money to support that prestigious education. We’re happy though, all four of us, and I think that’s all that matters.

Diary entry 311

The park outing seemed harmless enough. At first, the other foals were curious, and a little afraid; considering my children were larger than them, I understood. Eventually, however, they warmed up nicely enough. I’m so happy it turned out, and on top of it all, Orrick and I had some nice time to spend with one another. After the outing, we found the old tree I used to busker under, and I told the kids what I used to do when I was a filly. They seemed amused, and then they asked me to play them something. I agreed, and just three hours ago, when we were sitting around after dinner, I took out my old electric piano and played them their two favorite songs: Growl Go’s the Griffon and Trotting in the Sky (A very beautiful nursery rhyme, might I add). I suppose I can say I still had it in me, the colors did return, but I noticed something different this time around; they were duller. To me, however, going without them for so long, all they did was rekindle my spirits. Rorrick and Ren loved my music, and the rest of the night was filled with me teaching them how to sing. I must say that was enjoyable. What’s more, I took note that Ren especially had a musical inclination. By the end of the night, she could hit all the notes (give or take) of Growl Go’s the Griffon. Rorrick, however, found his place singing sporadically, not minding to hit the notes; he was enjoying himself thoroughly in the process. If only I could relive tonight one thousand times, or till I die; because for the first time in such a long time, I truly found myself lost to happiness.

Diary entry 380

Well, I haven’t written in here for a while now. Something will change today, however; Ren and Rorrick are going to school… grade 1, to be exact. Regular outings to the park have helped the twins get acquainted with the other ponies their age, and after talking with their mothers, I’ve learnt that a lot of them are going to be going to the same school. This is excellent. Ren has befriended a rather troublesome colt, silly and mischievous, while Rorrick still remains on the outside. I worry for him; he has a harder time fitting in… griffon blood runs strong in him. I can only hope for bright skies, I suppose, and like myself, my children will get a dose of both the bad, and the good (hopefully more good than bad). Only time will tell.

Diary entry 480

Today, Rorrick came home from school crying. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me he was being made fun of in school. They were calling him an oversized chicken, and apparently, the teacher had done little to intervene. Grade one was ok, and so was grade two… three has already turned out to be the worst year yet for Rorrick.

Ren on the other hoof is fitting in fine! She’s got a few good friends, and though she tries to fend off Rorrick’s assailants, she often doesn’t succeed. I suppose it’s the thought that counts though. She’s already joined the choir, and they plan on doing a performance in Fourhoof next week. Count me there!

Orrick is gone overseas to where Octavia is living now. He’s on a business trip, but he promised me he’d stop by her neighborhood and say hi. I envy him, but with the foals so young, and the fact that it’s right in the middle of the school year, I couldn’t join him.

Diary entry 498

I don’t know if I should feel glad, or sad. When Orrick returned, he brought back far more than just a ‘hi’ from Octavia. The damn mare was on my doorstep! I still can’t believe it now, a day later, while I’m writing this. Apparently, she’d been kicked out by her mate and had been surviving on the streets of Zanzibar for almost a year! No wonder she no longer sent me notes. The story on how Orrick found her was brief (as he seemed as unbelieving as I), but he mentioned something about almost tripping over her while walking to his hotel; he seemed as unbelieving as I.

So now my old friend sleeps in our basement. On the couch momentarily, but tomorrow, we’re going to bring down a fold-out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy she’s here… but can I not feel a bit of apprehension? This whole deal has come up so fast.

Diary entry 502

Looking at my friend, how she’s changed, puts me to tears. We had a very emotional talk today; two stay-at-home mares with woes to trade. The foals were off at school, and Orrick was up in our room working. We had an afternoon to burn. I always imagined the next time I and Octy would talk over coffee, it would be happy… there was no room for that here. This is her story.

Married the mare, relationship went well for a while. Was caught cheating on wife (something she regrets so deeply now), wife was not happy. Instead of talking it out, wife becomes aggressive… relationship goes down the drain. Octy is kicked from her house with some money to spend, spends it all on alcohol.

Here comes the best part.

Goes broke, becomes a busker. Cello broken in jumping… becomes a prostitute. Buck. No.

I’m angry at her, but right now, till things settle, I’m to assume the more favorable role of ‘supportive friend’. I have to get her back on track… but how?

Written in Ink (Pt 3.)

Diary entry 545

So, I came up with a plan that will hopefully get Octavia back on her hooves again. She’s in a bad place right now, and though I’ve been putting my heart and soul into keeping her happy, it’s a downhill battle. One of these days I’m afraid she’s just going to lose it, snap, end herself... I do not want that to happen.

I made the plan yesterday after a particular event. I’d come down in the late evening to get a drink of water; it was two or three, if I remember correctly. I found the basement light on and-finding that to be a bit strange-went to investigate it. Poking my head through the door leading down the stairs, I saw Octavia sitting at my old electric piano, a drink beside her, and a pile of tear-stained tissues nearby. Celestia, my heart shattered! For a moment or two I debated going down and confronting her, but in the end, however, I decided I’d best leave her be.

This morning, I woke up with an idea hanging on the tip of my tongue; why not make music with her again? Our styles were very different, but I’ve always wondered how we’d sound together; a once-upon-a-time DJ and a once-upon-a-time cellist. HA! I think now would be a good time to experiment; I mean, what’s the worst thing that could come out of it? In the least, I’ll be providing a good distraction for a while; a single day of delight would do wonders for such a grief wracked mare.

Diary Entry 558

After talking with Orrick a few days ago, and then going out to the second-hoof shop down on Mane, I got Octy a new cello! It’s not near as expensive as her last one, but it will hopefully do the trick.

All that’s left is for me to give it to her, and yet, in all my excitement, I can’t help but feel nervous. What if she doesn’t like it? What if seeing a cello again just makes things worse? It’s almost been four days; I need to do something soon.

Maybe I should give it to her right now; put my pen down and just trot downstairs with the cello behind my back with a smile on my face… no, no, no, that’s far too cliché, and it probably won’t work. To succeed, I should sit down and talk with her, get a better understanding towards if she’d except my gift with happiness, or disdain, and then act accordingly. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

Diary Entry 559

I did it! By Celestia, she was so ecstatic, that I can’t help but feel a buzz in my hooves as I write this. Following me giving it to her, she got right down to tuning the thing, tears in her eyes and shaking in excitement. And here I thought it would be the wrong choice! Oh, I’m so happy for her.

As I write, I can hear her practicing in the basement; her playing brings back so many memories. It kind of hurts, I’ve tried so hard to forget that past, yet every once in awhile it slips back up on me. For once though, the memories are bearable. I recall those quiet nights when Octy and I were alone together. Sometimes we'd play chess, sometimes I’d listen to her on the cello, sometimes we'd just gossip; Celestia, how time takes things away! Least I forgot, however, how time brings things to you as well though; my beautiful hippogriffs, my mate, Octy.

But enough of these reveries, I need to move on. I must admit, Ren is a spitting image of me (give or take the hippogriff part), a spitting image of how I was growing up. She has a lust for performance and loves attention. Sure, she has some lower parts-times when her friends or her parents need to be there to help her through something-but it’s nothing to be concerned about. Rorrick, on the other hoof, is just getting worse, and I fear for him. In grade five now, and he’s the ostracized, awkward one that plays in the corner and doesn’t have any friends. Correction, he has a single friend, but they don’t really see each other much.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with him, but I predict ill tidings in the future.

Diary Entry 570

Octavia and I performed together for the first time; the whole family watched. We’ve been working on a song, one that combines our two styles effectively; one that Octavia had mainly written, considering I always sucked at the mechanics behind music. I must admit, it was fun as hay, and we didn’t sound half so bad! I only messed up a key twice, and Octavia, being Octavia, had a flawless performance. After we had finished, we were met with a standing ovation, the crowd went wild, and Rorrick jumped on my back and hugged me deeply. Laughing like crazy, the rest of them joined in, and I soon found myself being crushed; not like I minded. It’s rather mind-blowing that I’ve acquired such a strange set of loved ones. An earth pony, a griffon, and two Hippogriffs! What a wonderfully dysfunctional family we are!

Diary Entry 578

I’m fed up. Sick. Disgusted. Today, Rorrick came home with a black eye. He’d been jumped by some bullies and beaten on till he confessed he was a freak of nature. This has gone too far, and I’m off to talk to his teachers when I finish venting here. Why in the name of Luna do ponies have to be so cruel!? What drives them? I only wish the Mane Six were here to teach this wretched town some morals. Everyday I’m bombarded with stories of gangs, and drug trafficking, and raping’s, and foal-napping’s… I’m sick of it all and yet, I can’t escape it. Our lives are here, everything we worked for, even my own history is on the streets of this town. I can’t leave, so all I can do is push on, try to find solace, count my blessings.

I’m talking to his teachers. Rorrick will not suffer as I had when I was his age.

Diary Entry 579

Rorrick came home today with a smile on his face. Apparently, my talk with the teachers had paid off. We engaged in idle chit-chat while I prepared him an afterschool sandwich; lettuce, tomatoes, cheese. Ham.

I’m used to handling meat now, considering I’ve been around Orrick for a while, and then the kids as well, who, simply following there more carnivorous nature, love it. I’ve tried to eat meat in the past, and though it tasted ok going down, it didn’t settle very well in my stomach. I usually make an alternate meal for me and Octy when the kids have a craving.

But by Celestia! Going to the Griffon Market to fetch the stuff is extremely intimidating. I feel so estranged there, cantering around, the clippity clopping drawing more attention then I want. I’ve been sending Orrick recently, who has no problems fitting in.

But back to the matter present, I’m concerned about how long teacher authority will keep Rorrick safe. As the foals grow into fillies and colts, things only get worse, and authority becomes less omnipresent.

Diary Entry 646

Grade seven, Luna damned grade seven. That influence broke today. I’ve got names as well. When I went to the school’s office to pick up Rorrick; he had riddled them off to me between squawks and tears. Just the thought of what those stupid ponies did to him makes me sick. Taking some super glue they found in the workshop of one of the classes, they glued a message onto his back. It read, written by three different ponies: ‘Freak/Griffer/Chicken’. Apparently while this was going on, the teacher had left down to the office to get something, only to return again to find Rorrick on the ground, pinned by his wings and freshly pasted with glue. Sure, the bullies got detention, but that’s not going to stop them; hate is an unquellable emotion; the matter is simple… Rorrick is different.

I should have seen this coming.

Diary Entry 654

Why isn’t Ren doing anything? She is in the same class as him, same species as well. She’s become rather passive, keeping to her friends and trying her best to forget about her brother. I know she’s guilty though, I can see it in her eyes when she comes home, in her attitude; like a dog against a wall. I wish I could feel as bad for her as I do for Rorrick, but I can’t. She has it good, doesn’t get bullied, and has nice friends… I only wish Rorrick can start following in her wake.

Orrick gave Rorrick a good talk down today, I don’t know what he told him, but I wasn’t allowed to interfere. What I do know, however, is that whatever Orrick said, Rorrick took to heart. I’ll take the backseat on this one; see what comes out of it.

Diary Entry 666

So that’s what Rorrick was told. Nightmare Night’s Dark Messages. Today, he came home with… blood on his feathers. It wasn’t his though. I, I can’t go on in this entry, I need to calm down.

Diary Entry 667

Fought them, that’s what he did. I bet they didn’t see that coming. No, they definitely did not. I recall now that Rorrick’s body is meant to kill and sever; those claws, that beak… the very blood that surges through his body. They stood no match, and he got them all really, really bloodied. My phone has been ringing off the hook with the parents of the ‘victim’s’ calling the house to spit insults. I can’t answer to those, so I’ve been giving them off to Orrick, who can actually fight back. These griffons, I tell you.

Diary Entry 670

Jail? Now that would be something. Thank Celestia Octavia, Orrick, and I prevented that. The parents, having gotten nowhere with their hateful calls, wanted to summon court and send Rorrick off to some prison. We fought for him there, and won… Octavia and Orrick were lavish speakers and I was just scenery. How embarrassing is that? I can’t even defend the very life of my own child.

I think it’s because I’m scared. Griffons, or in this case hippogriffs with high amounts of griffon blood, are dangerous. All I’m here to do is reassure-the fluffy stuff- while Orrick and Octavia fight hoof and claw with the opposition.

I’m an embarrassment.

Diary Entry 671

Finally, I feel as though I’m back in the picture. Rorrick came into my room tonight-Orrick was gone, so I had the whole bed to myself-and snuggled up to me. He was shivering bitterly, no doubt reminiscing over his recent actions. I brought a hoof to his back and just rubbed; he spilled his guts.

He explained to me that he’d accepted himself as the monster he was. I responded suit with the reassurance he wasn’t. It took me a bit, but I think I drove the point home. He just needed to learn how to fit in. I then gave an example of his sister, and he sort of hissed at that, explaining that his sister didn’t care for him. I didn’t know how to respond, so I changed the topic: Schoolwork, sports, and promises that things will get better.

Diary entry 673

Apparently, I was wrong. Today; Rorrick explained through angry tears that he had been attacked by more insults than ever before. He threated that he’d kill them if they kept this up. My heart had dropped when I heard this; it terrified me to no end. Writing about it now is making me shiver. He had stood like Celestia defiantly atop the stairs, and promised us violence if things kept going the way they were. Orrick tried to step in, but was shut down; I tried, but was responded to in the same fashion. There was no changing his mind. I’m thinking I should keep him home from school tomorrow, let him calm down a bit and think over his actions.

Again, I’m dealing with griffon blood here, and when griffons get mad…

Diary Entry 675

Today, I can’t. It was, no.

Diary Entry 675

I need to write, the events are weighing heavily on me and I need to get them off; least I am crushed under guilt and concern. I’ll start in the morning.

I decided that I’d keep Rorrick home yesterday morning. I was going to take him and Octavia to Fourhoof to see the buskers; it would have been a good change in mood. When I had trotted downstairs, I took note that his stuff was gone; that he had left for school early. Sighing in defeat, I tried to calm myself down with a cup of tea. Octavia joined me after a bit, and we just talked. It was so nice. Things turned upside down though soon. Octavia had mentioned she’d been trying to find the hacksaw; she needed to shorten something or another. This confused me because I usually kept it out in the open, hanging on the tool shelf. Wondering if Orrick had used it, I went up to our room and rummaged around; my searching came up empty. Next I went downstairs, Octavia close in tow, to search there. Sometimes, the tools fall off the wall and settle behind the work table. Using a combination of magic and earth-pony hoof strength, we moved the table so that we could peek behind. I didn’t see a hacksaw there. I saw a feather. Rorrick’s feather.

By Celestia, when I saw the plumage I almost fainted; thankfully, Octy had been there to catch me as I swooned. The reality of what I’d allowed to happen hit me so hard that my body went numb. I recalled Rorrick’s threat, the one where he said he’d kill them if they continued. I recalled the day before, how stoic Rorrick had been coming home; he had turned down the sandwich and went straight for his room. The pieces of the puzzle fell together to create a gruesome scene: Rorrick, in his classroom, with a hacksaw.

Galloping faster than I’d ever galloped; I got to the kitchen and dialed the school. When the receptionist picked up, I told her to search the school for Rorrick; I told her he was a threat that needed to be found before he did something he’d regret. There was a moment of silence then. Soon, the phone was picked up again and I was told he wasn’t at school; he hadn’t even been marked on the morning attendance. Fearing the situation all the more, I requested that they checked if Alkaline (the head bully) was in school, and she told me he was. I think it was about then that I heard the muffled cry coming from upstairs. Octavia was right beside me, so it hadn’t come from her.

Bolting up the stairs two at a time, I went to Rorrick’s room and knocked; no response from inside. When I tried the door though, it was locked. Panicking, I shouted into the room; I knew he was in there. When I had still gotten no response, I asked Octavia to blow the thing off its hinges (for I was in no mental state to conjure magic). She complied, and in no time, the door had cracked and swung open. The scene that met me inside will haunt me till the day I die.

Rorrick was there. He had the hacksaw, but it wasn’t being used on somepony else. It was being used on himself. It was at one of his wings and had already done some damage. Blood flowed from the wound, and even as I stared, the saw was drawn across the joint again, cutting deeper. To his left, an open first aid kit filled with gauze was splattered with blood.

Firmly placed over his beak, and only just hiding the gag underneath, a cup, colored the same as his plumage, was strapped on. It didn't take an intellect to figure out exactly what he was doing. He was mutilating himself to become… an earth pony. Somehow-I forget the details-I deterred him and he was sent off to the hospital for inspection. In a trance –like state, I cleaned up the carpet and the saw, and put everything back where it was supposed to be. I remember coming to a resolution then. We'd be moving to Ponyville ASAP. This could not go on.

Written in Ink (Pt 4.)

Diary Entry 680

It’s been awhile since I last wrote in here, a year, maybe six? I should start writing the date. What’s funny is that for once, things have been going smooth! It’s as if, somehow, I and the family leaving Manehattan solved all our problems. I’ve feared every day that something will go wrong; that Orrick will get into some fight with me; that Rorrick will snap; that I’ll start having cravings for Buck or Alcohol… it never happens.

I really don’t know why I’m complaining, I guess it’s just too good to be true.

I suppose that’s my life for you, a roller-coaster that seems to have finally stopped, leaving me with the afterglow of adrenalin. Heck, I’m not that old yet, but I’m getting there. I can see gray in my mane, but I don’t try and dye it out anymore; as that’s an expensive procedure, and I don’t really care.

I’ve been working for a bit now; it took a while, but I got a job at Ponyville’s grade school teaching music. The only gal as old as me there is Cheerilee, a wonderful mare might I add.
What else, what else?

Ah, yes, Octavia. It seems as though the move was not only beneficial for Rorrick. Octy has started selling Cd’s; she’s making good money and is as happy as ever. Together, Orrick, Octy, and I are sustaining a good life with our joint income.

With all this extra time on my hooves recently, I’ve gotten back into music. On my spare time, when I’m not teaching, I’m playing the piano. I’m haunted so often now of my final wish, that I could call upon that elusive mother of mine and see her, see her in her full glory, not part made, not half colored; see her in all her beauty.

Rorrick and Ren, they’re going to be graduating from high school soon; I’m so excited, yet sad at the same time. Once they’ve gone off in the world, I’ll be left alone again. I’m not saying that they shouldn’t go, but can you really blame me for wishing they could stay in my hooves forever?
You can’t. Time, it has a way of changing things, as I always used to say.

Diary Entry 688

Graduation! By Celestia, I’m almost as nervous as my children are! This is amazing, this is momentous. Somehow, through sheer luck and support, I’ve lived to see the circle completed, and it’s beautiful. It’s going on tomorrow.

Rorrick, he’s probably going to head off in his father’s talons; he’s thinking of pursuing a degree in business. I don’t know what he’s going to do with it, but he has high hopes for a bright future. As much as I wanted a family of musicians, you’ve got to work with the cards that you’re given. But you know, so long as he’s happy, so am I.

Ren, my headstrong Ren. She’s keeping with music, and I’m so proud of her for that. I think it’s become clear which side of the gene pool she’s from-the better side, obviously. She’d like to join the National Equestrian Choir. It’s a bold pursuit, but with the mind-blowing marks she’s graduating with, I think they’ll be at her hooves begging for her to join them. She’s unbelievably excited about this.

I think that’s about all on my mind. I’ll probably have plenty to think about after graduation tomorrow; this diary has become the best thing I’ve thought of, considering all the harrowing times it’s got me through.

Thick, thin, it’s been there for me.

Diary Entry 689

I’m crying right now while I write this, mostly out of happiness, but you know; resolve is always a hard hit to the body. I just feel tired.

Rorrick approached me after his ceremonies. He was trim, his feathers clean and glossy, his beak and hooves polished till they shined. He looked so… mature, and somehow resembled his father and me whilst we were in our prime.

I almost cried then and there as well as I realized rather suddenly that he too had gone through so much to stand in front of me now; a graduate student about to face the wide open world. He said two lines before, Sheila, yes, I think that’s her name, herded him to a circle of friends. He said:

“Thank you.”

And I, being the silly filly that I am, was so swept off my hooves that all I could do in return was smile and utter a quiet “You’re welcome.” Those two words burn behind my eyelids still; I can’t shake them.

There before me I had created life. I stuck beside him through thick and thin, and I helped him out of all the jams he ended up in. At the time, it felt painfully long; now, however, it feels as though his whole childhood flew by in a blink of an eye.

The Circle, it’s complete. The realization of that it’s almost overwhelming. Everything great must end.

Diary Entry 1087

I’m afraid of death; the concept of it, what comes after, when it comes. It doesn’t take an intellect to tell me that I’m getting old; I can feel it. I wake up in the morning and my body aches. It takes me longer to urinate, to comprehend, and to walk.

Octavia on the other hoof seems as optimistic as ever. Her music has touched so many, and even though her arthritis prevents her from playing anymore, she’s happy. She invites death now with the knowledge that she has fulfilled her life. Sure, she has regrets, we often talk about them over tea in the morning; but she’s come to accept those facts of her life. Why am I not feeling the same way- and then it comes to me like a tidal wave; I still need to complete myself.
Considering I’ve retired now, I can spend all my time trying to find that element I’ve been missing; the one that will complete my mother’s image. Often I’ve gotten so close, and yet, at that prime moment, the image falls apart and I’m to start over. It’s infuriating.

In other news, Rorrick has started sending letters to me. He’s started a program that helps the young hippogriffs of Equestria adapt to public school. Apparently I was one of the first parents to incorporate their hippogriff child into a public school; according to him, I’ve made a legacy. Occasionally, from day to day, a thank you letter or two arrives in my mail; somepony or some griffon somewhere that has, with my sons help, gotten the guts to incorporate their own offspring in public school and are benefiting from it. It’s great and all, I don’t mind the fame, but do they all know how hard it was for Rorrick to grow up? I don’t mention that of course in my replies, but still, it makes me wonder.

A story is best received by another if it’s positive, or forecasts hope. If my son is to appear as that symbol of hope, I won’t say a word.

Diary Entry 1113

Where did the time go? I’m a grandmother! Now, I feel really old. It’s Ren; she met a fine stallion in the Equestrian Choir. I suppose I heard her mention him in passing- idle conversation when she paid me a visit-but the marriage was out of the blue. One thing led to the next and well, now she’s pregnant! We don’t know what the young’uns look like yet, but I know I’ll love them to death. I haven’t had this sort of excitement in ages!

Rorrick on the other hoof is getting busier and busier. He’s not at a point in his life where he’s ready to settle down, or so he told me a few weeks ago when we met in Sugar Cube Corner. At least he’s found a mate though, a wonderful griffon with enough competitiveness to keep him in check. I tell you, these griffons are nothing but trouble; oh, what am I saying, they’re wonderful.

I’m now happy to say that before I die, I did it; survived the hardships brought on by being a mother and nurtured two very wonderful beings into this wide, wild, world. My conscience is clear, finally.

Diary Entry 1254

Death, it seems as though it’s right on my doorstep, waiting for me to fall down the stairs, choke on a cob of corn, overexert myself so that I may have a heart attack. It’s not as scary anymore though, and though I still haven’t completed myself, that notion is fading. I look back on my life, and I’m stunned to silence.

My first conscious memories were of myself being motherless and working the plow at Meadowvale. I remember that dreary place, the one I eventually left at age 18. More to come: I survived on the streets of Manehattan, I was a busker; I met Dawnfire… arguably my first true love. He was part of a band that I eventually joined. It almost pains me to remember those soft nights where I, so young in this world, found myself caught up with the brothers in its wonder. Then Dawnfire’s death hit, the band split apart; I began drinking at this time. It was the first real blow to my heart; death was introduced to me far too early. And yet in those dark times, a spark was still present; Octavia. I remember that one night in the bar where she had come in looking for a spot to sit. I called her over, she pulled a prank on me, we became friends; she recommended I should join the music academy. At first, I turned down the idea; I was a busker at heart and would never survive in formal education. For a while I went back to the streets, made some money, and eventually decided that I’d give this formal education deal a swing. I met Orrick then, a younger Orrick, one who looks so different now that age has taken its toll. We got close, and as the years went by, embers of passion turned to flame in our hearts. Yet I, being the silly mare I was at the time, turned him down the first time he proposed his love. The next chapter of my life was a harrowing one, Buck, alcohol, sex… Wolf. My rehabilitation, Wolf’s appearance at my house, and then his timely fall; Orrick had beaten him half to death, and then called the cops. Things settled, and Orrick and I grew closer. Then there was the night the three of us sat on the balcony in Canterlot after Cadences wedding, when Octavia came out and told us of her alignment, when I recovered my career. The wedding, the kids, Rorrick’s struggles, Ren’s successes- that part of my life went by in a blur of tears, blood, worry, kinship, unity, and toil. Not to mention feathers… lots of those. Oh, and ink.

And here I am now, Octavia has passed on, she turned up dead a few nights ago. She’d perished in her sleep, a peaceful departure, clutching her cello case firmly in her hooves and with a soft smirk on her wrinkled face. Orrick is still around but is sick with age, his end is near; I just know it.

And yet I’m still here, pen in a field of magic, paper at my hooves. Ha, with a life such as mine, you’d think a story could be written about it.

Her Final Performance

*Wondering what I'm putting out next? Check this journal out to see for yourself!

"In the end, it’s not the years in your life that matter; it’s the life in your years."
~Soto Konoha

Huge thanks to all my followers, trackers, friends and editor! If it weren't for you all, this would of never gotten off the ground.

Diary Entry…

It happened, he... he passed on; Orrick, my wonderful Orrick, is dead. I never thought the day would come that I’d have to cope with this. I’m all alone now; I feel empty.

You know, I have to wonder why I’m still around; why I’m sitting by this old book writing my days away, and looking at pictures of a once-upon-a-time-life which is nothing but dust now. Can’t I go? Can’t I finally be free of all this? Can’t I just simply-

Die

The word hung on the tip of my tongue, and yet I couldn’t write it down. Was I really inviting death?

Yes.

With a measured sigh, I cut my magic, and the pen fell from its grasp, bouncing off my writing desk once before falling to the dusty floor. Instead of retrieving the writing utensil, however, I closed my diary and tucked it away between the mattresses; something I’d come to do out of habit. I don’t really know who I was hiding it from anymore; Orrick always knew and even if he hadn’t, he’s dead now and wouldn’t give a damn.

I still can’t believe he’s dead, why is life so unfair?

With the desk cleared, I sat back down in my aged chair and gazed at the walls. Pictures, they’re all that’s left of what was once a tangible event- snapshots of a reality that’s like a dream to me now. I wanted my youth back, and my mate, and my kids, and Octavia… but things don’t work out like that, do they? No, all that’s left is smiling faces, beautiful sunsets, and a horrid air of fabrication. What a life.

As my mind delved into sour reveries, I got up and made my way down the stairs; an activity nowadays that was as dangerous as scaling the Canterlot Mountains. When I finally made it, I was out of breath and had to lean against the railing for a minute or so to recover. As my heart slowed, and my regular breathing again rattled out of my throat, I began making my way towards the kitchen. I passed three more portraits before arriving at my destination. Reaching out with a weak bout of magic, I swung open one of the cupboards and rummaged through, pulling out the pot of sugar after a second or so. Next came boiling the water, then the teabag, and finally, tea. With the warm beverage a pace in front of me, I set it down on the dusty table before falling to a chair with a satisfied sigh. The events of yesterday, the funeral I mean, sapped whatever energy I had left; my endurance was next to nothing now.

Again, my eyes went unfocused as I tuned the world out, gazing blankly at the walls that had once held a family. Soon, a particular picture caught my eye, forcing me to focus; it was the one of Octavia. It had been taken at one of her last concerts a year or two back. Her mane and tail were all gray-having lost their color as age began to show-and yet her smile was the same as it always had been; mysterious, polite, and ever youthful. Seeing that smile brought a similar one to my face, and I took another sip of tea. Without intending, I slipped into deep reveries.

Octavia had been happy till the very end. As I, she too had had a rough life; yet, instead of letting it drag her down, she used it to make her stronger. Sure, I had lost my first husband, I was a rehabilitated addict, an alcoholic, and-in the beginning- an irresponsible mother; yet, I turned out OK in the end.

So then why do I feel so sour?

A good question, one that I eventually concluded after remembering a particular diary entry of mine. I pondered over why those that I knew accepted their deaths, and then I recalled the theory of becoming complete. When I put one and one together, I realized with a start that once Octavia had ‘completed’ herself, she died soon after. Maybe that was the key to my own situation, why death hadn't taken me; I still needed to complete myself. Resolution flooded in.

Putting down the drink, I cantered out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room. Once there, I opened one of my drawers and pulled out my old DJ glasses. The leather strap was worn and frayed, and the tinted glass held a fine layer of dust. For a moment, I just stared; looking at the object that held so many memories. Without knowing, a tear fell from my eye before quickly being absorbed into my fur. Those glasses, they were my world at one point; I had neglected them for too long. Slowly bringing the goggles out of the desk and brushing them clean, I strapped them onto my head before exiting my room.

The descent down the stairs brought on a stony resolve. The tears came swifter now, carving lines down my coarse facial fur before falling off my chin to the dusty floor. Turning at the kitchen, I made my way into the living room. The grand piano was there, neglected and abandoned. The last time the cover had been opened was at least two years ago. When I flipped open the lid smooth keys as clean as the day I’d closed it met my teary gaze. Shuddering slightly at the exertion, I pulled out the piano chair and sat down before taking the goggles from my head and putting them so that they blacked out my vision.

All that’s left are the smooth keys in front of me and a final wish. I could do it; I would call her to me and see her for a final time. Taking a deep meditative breath I brought my left hoof down on a key. It gave off a pure sound, one that rung out crisply and reverberated pleasantly; I could feel the bass undertone rattle deep in my chest. An electric blue light had flashed before my eyes; a mere spark, or a compound that, when combined with another, would begin to manifest.

A brief smile tweaked the corners of my muzzle. I still had it in me.

I played a second note, and the blazing red spark elicited rose to accommodate the blue one. Together they danced momentarily before combining together as a crackling blue and red orb.

I played a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh.

Overcoming the crippling emotions at seeing such vibrant light enter my dreary home again, my playing became far more refined. The sad melody echoed richly around the living room, and I pondered what madness had made me stop playing in the first place. Unable to stop now, the music continued. In front of me, the colors began taking shape, coming together to create The Picture.

The body began to appear, then the mane, the horn, the eyes, the smile… at about this point, the image usually fell apart. I wouldn’t let it. Driven by unbridled determination and my very spirit, I sped up the pace. My hooves flew across the keys almost subconsciously; the image in front of me was what I was concentrating on now. Blazing whiteness began to fill in the body, starting at the rump, and then spreading to color the mare’s coat a pure white. Soon to follow was the mane and tail; electric blue and crackling with energy. A darker blue began to creep in, coloring the remaining sections in marvelous vibrancy. My heart soared, the tears fell like waterfalls. I cried out in excitements, getting up from my chair to have a better look. Down below, I could still feel my hooves playing on. The image, I’d completed it after eighty six years! The immenseness of it all sent deep shivers through my body. It was only when this initial bout of emotion cleared that I realized something: The picture wasn't of my mother, but of me; a younger me.

Numbness hit me like a brick. My maw fell open; this whole time I’d been trying to complete myself, not my elusive mother. My throat felt tight, my eyes closed and I fell to the floor; leaving the keys for a final time. And yet somehow, the music continued to play. The image of my body began to break apart, scattering to surround me in luminescent light. Reaching out to grab at a wisp of color as it floated by, I noticed with a start that it was warm to the touch, that I could actually feel the music. Too amazed to question, I pulled myself to my hooves and looked around.

The colors had settled into places around me and began to transform; change into their own individual entities. To my left, Octavia appeared, her body a concoction of music and fluorescent. She held in her hoof the cello I’d given her. To my right, Dawnfire appeared with his brother, the looks on their faces were that of content; it was clear that they had been reunited in the end.

Slowly, the room began to fill up with the ponies that had left my life as I’d continued to live. In a line they stood, directing me to the end, a light that had appeared; beckoning softly. Unable to resist, I slowly cantered towards it. As I approached the wall of light, a figure appeared: Orrick, not the old age-battered Orrick I knew, but the one I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. His chest was puffed out proudly, and his wings were flared, inviting me into a hug.

Overcome by unbridled emotion, I fell back to the floor. Seeing all the entities was momentous, but Orrick himself had rendered me helpless. Figuring that I could move no further, Orrick left the wall of light and padded towards me. Looking up from the floor I saw his eyes gazing back down at me; love emanating from them so strongly that I again had the will to move. In a shaky action, I raised my hoof to touch his chest feathers. As expected, he felt as warm as he had in life. With a grunt, I pulled myself to stand again before embracing him. As his feathers wrapped around me a silent message was passed between the two of us: I’d see him soon. As he pulled away from me, I noticed that the others had gone through the wall of vibrant light. I didn’t want him to leave, and yet I knew he had too; Orrick had to move on, and so did I. With a nod and a reassuring glance, I dropped to my four hooves and allowed him to break the embrace. With a final loving stare, he turned and evaporated through the wall of light. As the music stopped the colors disappeared, taking my beautiful mate with them.

Removing my glasses, I found myself standing at the center of the cold living room. I no longer needed to keep a living memory of my mate, so I went over to the piano and placed the goggles on the keys, closing the lid in calm resolution.

With that task done, I made my way to my room; collecting pictures from around the house as I went. In my dorm now, I took the time to mount the frames, using my desk, the wall, and even the bed as places for them to rest. With that done, I went into my drawer and pulled out my diary and a card; it showed the image of a mare looking over a beautiful horizon, her back facing the viewer. And in the setting sun, a single word in bold black letters stated:

Believe.

It had been the one Orrick had given me when we're in the academy together all those years ago; it had come with the glasses.

Settling into my bed, surrounded by the pictures of my life, I opened up the journal and wrote a single sentence.

‘What a life I’ve had.’

Overcome by a sudden bout of fatigue, I fell back onto my pillow, clutching the card close to my chest. Taking a final glance out the window, I took note that the sun was setting, casting the world in a brilliant shade of pink and orange. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and relaxed. Eternal sleep came, and then there was nothing.

Then there was light.

Syn3rgy's Note to the Curious Reader

Index:

In the Making

My Purpose

Triumphs and Tribulations

Cool facts

In The Making:

I must admit, finishing this book has been a truly momentous experience for me. The whole journey has been something else, really.

I came up with the idea before the summer of last year even started; originally, my plans were to write a similar story about Vinyl, Octavia, and a world without music. As I developed this story though, plot holes and inaccuracy’s sprung up, and I, being the particular guy I was, knew that so long as those sorts of problems were around, I’d not write.

Events in my life around the time really allowed me to develop the story into the way it is now. For starters, my much loved grandfather had died, leading me to ponder life, as his end was untimely and harrowing. I asked myself ‘what was the point of living, when in the end, everyone dies?’ This question was answered after I read My Little Dashie, that story by ROBCakeran. I admired how My Little Dashie, a simple snapshot of a random brony’s life, could evoke so much emotion and intrigue. This brony was no one special; he could be any of us.

Following that discovery, I became very interested in the simple concept of Life. How it’s infinitely intricate, and how without death, we’d never put value in life. That short 80 years-a fleeting glimpse in the grand scale of things-is all we have to live for; we should make the best of it.

So I began taking my old concept on the whole Vinyl and Octy deal, changing it into the story you all have read. I found myself torn between writing the life of Octavia, Or Vinyl… in the end, I decided Vinyl. Why Vinyl though? I’d imagine it was because she was a DJ, a musician of the more electronic variety, which appealed to me more than traditional classical music.

My purpose:

What I wanted to achieve here was the absolute rendition of Vinyl Scratches’ life, from her early beginnings to her timely end. At first this task seemed daunting, but as I pushed on, it became so much easier to write; all I was doing was telling a story in the end, and I suppose I’m good at that sort of thing.

I wanted to portray the fact that a simple life could be exiting, and that it didn’t take some superstar or ruler to give a good show. Vinyl was a foal, then a busker, then in school, then out of school, then a mother, then an elder; nothing special, yet at the same time very special indeed.

Another thing that I strove to do, was break away from the well-crafted fannon surrounding Vinyl, and tread my own path. I looked at a whole mess of Vinyl stories, taking notes as I went of the common themes in each. When I got down to fleshing the story out, I took note of all those stereotypes, and then strove to break them: Vinyl was not paired up with Octavia, Vinyl was straight, and so on and so forth.

My overall purpose was to tell the story of how Vinyl became, well, Vinyl. I explained the meaning of her stage name, the significance of her tinted goggles, the significance of her mixer-and later on- her piano, and her appearances in the MLP season as the episodes pressed on.

Triumphs and Tribulations:

Out of anything I have written in the past, this particular story has impacted my life the most. Here in front of me, I have rendered a life, in all it’s complicated beauty; in all its triumphs and tribulations. What’s more, this story, ironically enough, affected my own life as well.

Prior to the publishing of this novel, I’d been writing for ten years. Recently, I tallied up everything I wrote, both offline and online, and the numbers came in at an upwards of 18 completed short stories, and 7 uncompleted novels. That’s a lot of incompletion, which leads me to the next part of my little ramble here.

Prior to the publishing of this novel, I’d not completed a story. I just couldn’t commit, or my opinions would be changed before I could finish it. For me, Life and Death of a DJ was a massive milestone; a story I actually completed, totaling in with 110 (excluding the author note here) word document pages, 48 thousand words, and 22 chapters (Including prologue and bridges). Wow!

Not only did my story act as that milestone, it also was a catalyst in developing me to be a better writer. Some of you might remember my struggles with Equestria Daily, how the pre-readers rejected my story 6 times before regretfully letting me go. For a whole two months, I was constantly editing, learning, and rewriting parts of my story so that I could accommodate their particularities. I think in all, I’ve edited this damn baby of mine for a total of 34 hours. I now have an editor, who is wonderful, might I add, and he does all that stuff now; the thing is though, in that time I was forced to brush up my work, I greatly increased my abilities as a writer. I wouldn't have wished it any other way.

Cool facts:

-I never planned on getting Vinyl hooked on Buck; this detail came on later in my story, while I was at my cottage and wondering what a really good twist would be.

-In the beginning, my first five chapters were in third person. Some wise (If not albeit harsh) words from my first EqD pre-reader made me decide to change the whole thing into first person.

-A debate broke out on my story between my editor and another individual, who began arguing over what instrument Octavia actually used. I’d called it a violin, which was wrong. According to them, it was either a double bass or a cello. I had to re-do all the parts in my story where Octavia or her profession was mentioned, three times in a single day. I ended up picking the Cello.

-The notorious ‘Wolf’ was named the way he was because I was poking fun at the prevalence of wolf fursona’s in the furry fandom (where I was before joining this fandom).

-I was told by my last EQD pre-reader that I had broken a record on Equestria daily as the most returning author since the three strike rule was initiated (three strikes and three non-strike rejections)

-Vinyl was meant to marry Cloud Chaser (the young foal from the orphanage in chapter one), instead of Orrick.

-The name ‘Rorrick’ was from another story I’d planned on writing, where I wanted to redeem Gilda in the eyes of the fandom as she finds and then raises a foal in the griffon world, covering up his pony name, Raindrop, with the more masculine one, Rorrick.

-The last paragraph in each of the journal entries on the final chapter outlines some aspect of me or the philosophies I lead by in one way or another.

-I dropped numerous Fallout Equestria references throughout my story

Thanks for the read you wonderful people/ponies!

~Syn3rgy