Wandering Music

Notes of Darkness

The rain fell heavily from the dark grey sky, the sound a steady droaning that filled the air. The ground was soaked and puddles dotted the ground. There was not a pony in sight, the deluge having driven them all inside from the cold rain.

All but one, that is. Siting in the Manehatten cemetery, a single colt sat in front of a grave stone. His head hung low, his sandy brown hair soaked with the heavy rain as it hung over his saddened face. On his flank was a red guitar pick, with a black Treble cleft that slightly covered it.

"Why..." he spoke softly to nopony, looking up at the tombstone. "Why did you have to go...why did you leave me here...I'm so alone..."

He lifted his head to face  the tombstone for a bit longer, his blue eyes sad. "Why did you leave me...I miss you so much...I...I just want you back...I miss you so much sister..."

Memories of his sister filled his mind: images of her smiling face, the sound of her voice as she spoke and laughed, her sweet, green eyes that reminded one of emeralds. the image of her returning home one night, bruised and crying; the dull, muted sounds of the police ponies when they told him his sister had died. As the thoughts circulated in his mind, his shoulders shook as he tried to hold back the tears. He sniffled, wiping his eyes and nose, before he sneezed, and shuddered from the cold rain.

He wiped his nose again before he rose to his hooves and headed out of the Cemetery, his dark brown body shining with the rain as he trudged off home sloshing his way through the wet grass, all of his worries coming with him.

The streets were deserted as the colt made his way through the streets, the rain by now had let up, though the streets were filled with puddles. The night time air was cold and humid, the colts breath making small clouds of fog. His hooves clicked softly on the ground as he took soft, half hearted steps as he made his way down the hard street.

As he walked down the street, his mind was filled with a bubbling cauldron of thoughts. Besides the sadness he felt from the death of his sister, other thoughts entered his mind.

For one, there was hatred. And this dark feeling was targeted at his father. A stallion who had barely been there for him and his sister at all after their mother had passed away. He had never been there for any of the colts performances; he was never there when his sister had been raped, and he wasn't even there when she died!

The other feeling was anger. He had no real friends during the years that he had lived here. He had ponies he had almost called friends, but they ended up stabbing him in the back to get what he really wanted. He learned that he couldn't really trust anypony in this city, no pony except his sister, before she died, anyway.

He also felt a sense of overwhelming confusion. Why was he here? The city wasn't a place for him. The city was to big, to crowded.To many ponies wanted to much and they wanted it to quick/

As all these thoughts of hatred, anger, and confusion bubbled in his mind, she shook his head, clearing it of the din of overwhelming thoughts. He had to get out of here. The city was to much. He needed to leave, find a new home; a new place for him in the world.

He pushed the door to his sisters apartment open as he hurried in to start packing his stuff. He ran into his room and started by piling the few clothes he had into a large duffle bag; a few battered sweaters, some vests, and a few nice, dress clothes. Once he was done with that, he looked around his room for anything else he could bring. His eyes fell upon his guitar and all of his related stuff: Amp, tuner, effects pedal, and such.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to bring them with him, but a small tug in his heart meant that nowhere would feel like home unless he took them with him. His music was the only thing that kept him sane in this dark and confusing times. He gave a small, sentimental smile, remembering the first time he played an actual song on it; the magic of that one moment, and the magic of the fact that he also received his cutie mark on that same day.

He looked around the room for other things to pack, but his eyes fell upon all of his "family" pictures. They were all of my sister and him, all at happy times in his life. His first performance, when he got his cutie mark, all of his birthdays, and so on. He gave a smile as the memories of his sister once again flooded into his mind. He missed her so much. He sat down, alloiwng for the first time that day to officially cry, the tears flowing readily as he cried.

Later that night, the colt found himself at the train station, a ticket hanging from his mouth as he waited for the train. All of the things he decided to bring with him: clothes, a few dozen books, and his guitar and related gear. He sighed as he sat on a bench; was he really gonna leave the city, running from his pain and problems to try and find a new life?

As hard as the decision was, he decided that it was the best thing he could do. He had decided to just go wherever the train took him, until he found a place that felt right. His ears perked up as he heard the train approach. Here it was, the ride to a whole new life.