I turn off the flowing water of the bathtub, the lush sound of water flow quickly coming to a stop; turning off the bathroom light I walk silently out into the hauntingly quiet house I call my home. The only other residents of the house consist of my mother and three sisters. All of which are exceedingly normal. I trot quietly down the corridor to my pleasantly colorful room, in deep contrast to the rest of the house; my room is a go to spot for creativity. Though my home is in constant overflow with normality, Creativeness is not frowned upon in my home, thank Celestia. With walls of grey and floors of white and brown, my home is not the place any modern artist of the least artistic talent would’ve chosen. I use my horn to ignite the lighter I keep hidden from my mother. Using magic I cast another beam to light my cigarette and incense, inhaling deeply. Wishing I never took up the overwhelming and money wasting habit I scowl at the mirror that is hung on the wall beside me. I fully turn to look at the mare in the mirror that is not me. What I have become is not me, I am, in a mental sense, a monster. My reflection is simply a caricature of the ghost that was once me. I stare at the white mare with bad posture and a devilish glint in her scarlet eyes. I reach for the purple tinted glasses I regularly showcase on my face to cover my eyes which were mocked as a filly. Eyes, that have seen too much, eyes, that once had so much to look upon. Nothing appeals to me much anymore. The world is grey, much like my lovers’ beautiful coat once was. There was no sympathy, not for Vinyl, never for Vinyl. Nopony knew, and nopony cared. But l didn’t want sympathetic looks and the glances of the passerby, only to whisper as soon as she seemed to be out of earshot.
Whispers; Can do so much, as I know.
I hide my cigarette under my satchel and slip quietly out the front door, I have decided to take a walk.
The scent of autumn hits my nostrils as soon as I step into the world of color that I don’t seem to appreciate anymore. I consider going and visiting Octavia, my dear friend. She was the only one there for me, especially after the tragedy. She was the only one that knew. She knew of the romantic relationship I had with that beautiful mare. But that is over, and there’s no chance of getting it back, acceptance, is the first step towards overcoming grief. Recovery seems far in the distance, but available nonetheless. My cigarette slowly burns to a stop. I flick the remnants to the side of the roughly made cobblestone road with my magic, kicking some dirt on it to make sure the light was extinguished. She never cared for me smoking, but never told me not to, either. She was very accepting of my flaws because she was well aware of hers as well. She was reminded of herself, the self that was so imperfect to everyone else. The whispers of passerby told her she was imperfect, the whispers of mares and colts, fillies too. She was known as the mistake, and the outcast. She simply smiled and kept trotting; never looking hurt or put down in any way. Something I’d always admired.
Who would’ve ever known she’d heard everything they said.
I remember her coming to my home on a cold winter day after school in twelfth year, knocking on the door and asking for me, knowing most parents disapproved of her talking to their fillies. My mother, oblivious to our relationship let her in out of the cold and guided her to my room, anxious to shut the door and keep any ponies from knowing that she was in our house. She came into my room, I knew then, I saw the look in her eyes. Something had been taken too far, a prank? Something that had been said, maybe. All I knew is that she wanted to get away from whoever was outside. I let her head fall onto my neck, and she cried. Not enough to get all of her feelings out, I sung her a song, it went something lik this,
“Hush now filly, don’t you cry, everything will be just fine. Stay by my side, everything will be alright, they’re never gonna’ hurt you. If only, if only we could make things right, you be with me all the time, try and keep your head up and they’ll never hurt you. They don’t know what you’ve been through. The fire in hearts never gonna’ die, everything will be alright.”
It was a simple lullaby. She didn’t cry enough that day, she ended her life later that week.
Did they know she could hear their whispers? Every time something was said, her walls broken down a bit more. Why did they do this to her? She was so innocent, and sweet and caring. She’d kept everything bottled inside her, and now I am here years later, the only one that still cares.
Whispers. That’s what ended her life, whispers.
She was so brave, that mare. One of the bravest I’ve ever known. Her beautiful face, her soft mane, her kisses, I remember all too well. I remember our last kiss, so sweet, and tender, the taste of it lingered for hours afterwards. I could never quite tell what that taste was. I will forever wonder.
Two years, it’s been since that day, the day I found her lying on the floor. Curled up, with an open bottle of pills, and a note that read, “I never understood what I did wrong…” one wing spread, the other glued to her side, dry tears clung to her eyelashes. Dark streaks under her eyes where the tears fell, still a little wet, and I was a little too late. I dropped the gift I had in my magical grasp, it fell to the ground with a thud and I had run to her side, nudging her, tears formed in my eyes. That mare, aside from my music, was the only thing I wished to live for. Music does not even appeal to me, I’ve stopped creating completely. Record dealers told me I would be famous, my music quickly making its way across nightclubs across equestria. I now refuse any contracts, and take no money for my songs I’ve produced. At age twenty I have plenty of time to gain bits. I spend most of my time getting high, and taking walks.
I find myself at Octavias home, I’ve come a long way across Canterlot. Almost four miles, nearly an hour of walking. I trot up to her door, and I lift my hoof to knock, but slowly bring it back down. I am completely fine with being alone right now.
I walk by the florist and gladly pay her two gold bits for the flowers I’m buying. I’m tempted to eat them, but grasp them with my magic and trot of towards the place ive not visited in a long while.
A sign pints me to the St. evergreens cemetery. I begin my walk through the many gravestones; so many ponies have walked this path before, going to visit their loved ones and families. I become nervous for the approaching gravestone I recognize from the distance. It grows darker, the sun barley a sliver above the horizon. I kneel beside the gravestone.
“Derpy Hooves, 1991-2010, May Celestia’s sun guide thy path, and Luna’s moon light thy dark, forever at the graces of our wings, horns and heart. Rest in peace.”
“Muffins..” I speak aloud. That was it, muffins, her kiss tasted of muffins. Tears in my eyes, I put my head down on the edge of her gravestone, and sing softly and slowly,
“Hush now filly, don’t you cry, everything will be just fine. Stay by my side, everything will be alright, they’re never gonna’ hurt you. If only, if only we could make things right, you be with me all the time..”
I didn’t have the heart to finish.
