Chapters ...The guy staring that bully down?" He asks, referring to this morning's little scene in the hallways. Straight to the point.
You nod, toying with your pen. Guess that's what you're gonna be remembered for when someone asks who you are.
"Yup, that's me. Do you have the video? I haven't seen it yet..." You ask, hoping he's kind enough to show you since he's obviously seen it.
"Sure, bud! Must've been cool to have been face to face with Hoops of all people. He's one mean cookie."
He whips his phone from his pocket and begins scrolling. A few seconds later, he places it on the table for the two of you to observe.
The two of you watch the shaky camera footage for a little bit.
"Oooh, don't you look tough there? That must've taken a lot of barnacles, that's for sure." He says, hitting the nail on the head first try.
He can say that again...
Onwards.
As you reluctantly shuffle atop your warm, heavenly mattress, a less-than-catchy melody flows into your ears, signalling the start of another mind-numbingly dull Monday morning. Mondays were never your thing and this is why. Having to pry yourself from the weekend of relaxation is a cruel bucket of cold water splashed on your otherwise comfortable and lazy self
Peering up at your phone, you attempt to silence its desperate wake-up call by blindly dragging your thumb along the screen, but in doing this, you knock it off of your bedside table, and it falls to the ground with a thump. The tune persists, filling the room with unwelcome noise.
With a groan, you hoist yourself up from the soft haven of your pillow to retrieve the device and silence it for good.
As you rub your eyes to banish the blurriness of sleep, your familiar bedroom comes into view, much like many other mornings before this.
Onwards.
You let your head sink back into the softness of your pillow, tuning out the alarm from your head and allowing yourself to slip back into the stream of unconsciousness you call sleep.
This is it. This is all you need right now. No world, no society, just...
...Sleep.
You feel yourself go light-headed, and within minutes, you're back to dreaming...
Your mind transports you to a small, confined cube of a room. holes cover the walls from corner to corner, surrounding you with at least 50 tiny black holes that seem to lead to blackness. The room is made of stone, and no entrance or exit can be unearthed. The only source of light is a singular bulb hanging from one of the holes in the concrete ceiling...
..
...
SPIDERS! SPIDERS EVERYWHERE!!!
You lurch up from your once safe haven with an eerie shiver rolling down your spine, now completely awake due to your 8-legged nightmare.
Welp, that's what you get for sleeping in.
Onward.
You grip the hanger that holds a polo shirt and sweater on it, sliding the woven material from the plastic.
Your Grandma had purchased this for you some time ago, but it still held up in today's modern fashion world.
Conducting all the necessary hygienic actions, you slid the outfit on, as well as a pair of jeans.
Checking yourself out in the mirror attached to the inside of your wardrobe door, you gave yourself a quick look over, before nodding your head in approval.
Nice.
Onward.
You shuffle through your wardrobe like a vinyl cabinet, checking every outfit and weighing up the possible reception of it, before stopping.
There it is.
You pick up the plastic hanger holding a black leather jacket and boots, admiring the handiwork on both items.
Yeah.
A few minutes later, you come back, wearing the outfit you had picked out.
"Not bad." You thought to yourself, using the mirror on the inside of your wardrobe door to check it out.
Onwards.
The bus ride to school was a familiar routine. You settled into one of the middle-row seats as usual. You weren't exactly popular, but you weren't an outcast either.
You preferred to be in the middle, just like many others your age - it suited you well.
As the bus started rolling, you inserted your earbuds and hit shuffle on your favourite playlist, allowing the music to transport your mind. The passing scenery outside the window became a blur as you lost yourself in the notes of the song.
After a few songs, the bus came to a stop outside the main gates of the High School. Students of every colour imaginable could be seen funnelling into the sets of double doors at the front of the building, beneath a sign that read "Canterlot High School".
Stepping off the bus, your sneakers made contact with the white stone pavement as you walked towards the entrance, preparing for the day ahead.
Keeping a grip on your backpack's buckle, you make your way to the main entrance of the school, narrowly avoiding the memorial piece at the centre of the courtyard.
Stepping inside, the walls are adorned with lockers and bustling with students, stretching from corner to corner.
The air is filled with fragments of indiscriminate conversations as you navigate the crowded hallway, careful to avoid bumping into anyone on your way to your locker.
Once you had successfully made your way to your locker, you carefully spun the dial by the lock, inputting the correct code to-
BANG-!!!
You quickly turn your head, and your gaze falls upon a thin, grey male student in a pinstripe waistcoat. He's wearing glasses the size of dinner plates, and he's being forcefully pushed against the same set of lockers you're using. The aggressor, a much bigger and meaner student, causes the metalwork to shake ominously by bashing him against it.
You recognize the mustard-coloured bully from the school's Basketball team - he seems to be looking at the skinny kid through his exceptionally long, dark-brown fringe. He's wearing a bomber jacket that has the number "7" on the back. Probably the same number he uses on the court.
"I TOLD you I needed it by today! What have I told you about holding me up?!"
You notice he has a distinct Manehattan accent as he slams his hand on the locker beside the small kid, making him flinch, and attracting more attention to the scene.
A lot of people are staring.
You should do something to reduce the tension of the situation.
Ignore them. They'll figure it out.
Talk the bully out of it.
Just hit the bucker.
You decide their problems aren't yours to get involved with.
Opening your locker and taking the things you came to get, despite the banging and shaking, you walked away and headed for your first class.
He'll be okay...
...Right?
A few days passed, and the situation seemed to die down. A video surfaced showing what happened after you left, and it didn't seem pretty.
You saw the grey kid in the hallway with a black eye and bandages across his body, obviously injured from the incident.
You only wonder...
...If you could've changed his condition if you'd done something differently that day.
NEUTRAL ENDING
Author's Note
Hey.
Play nice.
You take a breath as you place your bag by your locker, not needing the extra weight.
Looking around again, you notice some people have pulled out their phones and started recording the scene.
Nevertheless, you mustered up every inch of courage you could fathom and walked up to him.
"C'mon, dude. Leave him be." You spoke, projecting your voice for him to hear over his own words.
.
..
...
...The banging stopped.
All that could be heard were the breaths of the pair:
One was raggedy, withered and light. Full of fear.
The other was deep, aggressive...
...and filled with rage.
He turns his attention from the cowering student beneath him to the person who had just confronted him on his actions.
"What did you just say to me?"
He turns his body away from the student and faces you, allowing the victim to scoot a few inches away.
He's now right in your face.
Despite his overbearingly strong demeanour, he's slightly shorter than you.
You should probably continue talking him out of hurting the kid.
Assert Your Dominance.
Lamp Him.
Stay Calm
.
..
...
You continue down the path of least resistance, holding your ground.
"I said leave him alone."
Your voice falters slightly as he eyes you up, judging you in his head.
"Yeah? And what if I don't?" He asked, obviously trying to start something else.
You hesitate to consider your next words carefully...
...before another voice de-rails your train of thought.
"Excuse me!"
You turn your head to see a dark blue female squeezing through students to get to the centre of the issue. You recognize her as Vice-Principal Luna. She has a stern look on her face as she marches to the pair of you.
"Do we have a problem here?"
You look at him through his wall of hair to ask him the same question with your body language.
After a few seconds, he decides against continuing the ordeal, huffing as he walks off, and dividing the layers of students in his way to let him out.
Vice-Principal takes that as a no to her question, returning to her office.
You do the same, returning to the kid on the floor to check if he's okay. You hold your hand out, with him clutching it to pull himself up.
"You alright? He seemed to be pretty used to doing that." You asked him, picking up your bag from the floor.
"Heh, y-yeah - it's a regular occurrence..." He replies, clinging to his bag. "T-Thanks..."
You nod to him, patting him on the shoulder, before returning to your locker to retrieve the books you came to get.
You hear portions of your confrontation coming from various people's phones as the crowd disperses, remembering you were being recorded the whole time.
Welp. There goes your "Middle of the Bus" status.
Onwards.
Y'know what?
Screw it.
You've had enough of this.
Given that this has been established as an ongoing thing, it's safe to say that this has happened before.
Well, not anymore. You're ending this now.
You clench your fists with the newfound adrenaline being pumped into your veins at this very moment.
The world seems to engage in Slow-Motion or some sort of Bullet-Time function, because it feels like a while between reeling back and the impact between your right fist and his left cheek.
But it does happen, to your surprise.
Before he registers what's about to happen, you've already left a fist-shaped bruise where his Mum plants a kiss every night before bed.
And you have to say...
It feels gooood.
With the world returning to its regular pace, you watch as he topples onto the floor in a daze, still comprehending what just happened. Purple pops through the mustard on his face, and that fringe isn't looking so intimidating anymore.
People gasp and groan around you as you remember that you actually have an audience, as well as video evidence that you just punched another student.
"HEY!"
You hear a feminine voice call out to you down the hallway you just walked, and you turn to see who beckons you.
Looking over, a blur of Dark Blue rushes past you, tending to the "victim" on the ground. You recognize this blur as Vice-Principle Luna.
Uh oh.
Before you know it, you feel the cold, hard sensation of someone's hands on your shoulders, before you were pulled away from the scene by some other teacher you didn't know the name of, and led like a rabid dog to the principles office.
You see another teacher pick up your bag and follow you before you're placed in an empty room with a desk and a chair.
Well bucking done, dude.
You sat down and waited patiently, like the good boy that you are, wondering if that was really right.
Of course, it was right! Believe me, he'd have done the same thing to that kid if you hadn't stepped in.
Violence is never the answer! Issues can always be resolved through dialogue.
Your mental moral battle was cut short as the door opened again, and a very frustrated Vice-Principle walked in.
Time to explain yourself.
Onward.
The next hour went by surprisingly smoothly after you and that dude's confrontation.
The video of the situation undoubtedly circled the school's social media, ruling in your favour that you were just defending the kid, as well as making you a mini-celebrity for the day in one motion. Despite this, you hadn't actually seen the video yet. Hopefully, someone would show you or send it to you soon.
You got a few thumbs-ups from students passing you by in between lessons, as well as some stern looks from members of the basketball team.
Knowing you were the topic of the day gave you a small burst of self-importance as you walked.
Regardless, you headed over to your next lesson, which was Music.
I mean, c'mon.
Who doesn't like music?
You walked into the classroom with slightly more self-respect for yourself than you had when you walked through those double doors this morning, and sat down in your usual seat.
Students who had never even bothered talking to you before today were now acting like you'd known them since pre-school - people waved, smiled, or just gave you a curious look as they found their way to their seats in the classroom.
It was slightly jarring if you were honest.
Finally, everything seemed to quieten down after the teacher finally walked in.
...Or so you thought.
"New Partners!"
...
"Don't bother looking around, I've already done the heavy lifting for you..."
As she said this, she projected an extensive list onto the whiteboard with two columns, each row holding two students' names.
"Cheese... Sandwich?"
As you said this, someone seems to bounce into the seat next to you.
You extend a hand to your fuzzy brown-haired acquaintance, telling him your name.
He takes your hand with some speed and begins shaking it with a force that rivals a jackhammer.
"Hey! Nice to meet you - My name's Cheese, but you can call me Cheesy! Hopefully not literally, of course!"
You chuckle at the pun - he's obviously used that one before.
He continued.
"You're that guy, right? The one from the video of..."
...The guy talking that bully out of... uh... Bullying?"
...The guy staring that bully down?"
...The guy who hit that bully?"
...The guy who hit that bully?"
You sigh for a moment, before nodding. You don't wanna really be known for your strength, or your boxing abilities, so being remembered as "the kid who could throw hands" wasn't all that appealing to you.
"Yeah, that was me. Does it look bad?" You ask with a sigh as you lean back in your chair, still looking in his direction.
He shakes his head.
"No, not at all, actually! You'd expect it to, but you'd be wrong!" He says, in a sing-song voice. He pulls out his phone to show you the viral piece of media.
People started recording after the bang from the lockers, so you could see the bully doing his thing before you got involved. That's probably why the teachers let you off with only a minor slap on the wrist.
He keeps rewinding the video back to the punch, laughing his head off the first time, then only chuckling the fifth time.
You had to laugh too - it was one serious swing. You hadn't been in any sort of scuffle before, so maybe you were yet to discover the full range of your body.
After the eighth showing, he put his phone face down on the desk and continued talking.
Onwards.
...The guy talking that bully out of... uh... Bullying?"
You nod in response, relaxing your stance.
"Yeah, that was me this morning. I just did what I thought was right."
He rests his head in his hand and leans on the table, not taking his eyes off of you.
"Well, I thought you handled it pretty well if I do say so myself. Someone's gotta stand up to those sorts of people, and it didn't seem like anyone else felt like it."
He bumps you on the shoulder with the back of his hand.
"You did good, pal! That kid you protected would probably still be in Nurse Redheart's office if you hadn't stepped in."
He smiles a wide, toothy grin at you as he finishes his sentence, lighting you up slightly.
He's probably right.
Onwards.
The lesson with Cheese starts passing much slower than usual, with your head clouded with thoughts and speculations about the conversation you just had.
You had never been in a band before - sure, you'd play along to the music in the comfort of your own room and your parents had suggested it to you from time to time, but you didn't think it would actually happen.
However, one person who did not slow down was the bubbly drummer sitting next to you.
Regardless of whether something important was happening or not, he found a way to talk your ear off, no matter how quiet or loud he had to be to convey his message. You gave him your number in an attempt to quieten him whilst you listened to the teacher, and that worked for a little bit...
...Until you looked at your phone.
You had texts from him piling up like unused pizza leaflets, but at least he was being slightly silent, save for a few chuckles and snorts from what he was presumably filling your inbox with.
Guess you were just gonna have to ride it out.
Whilst it felt like you could've trained for a marathon in the same amount of time, Lunch eventually rolled around after another lesson and you couldn't be more thankful. The day had dragged more than a bad romance film, and sitting down in one place was never really your forte.
Rolling the words Cheese relayed to you in your head, you hastily make your way through the hallways, following your internal map to the cafeteria like many others were doing. You could definitely go for some food right now. That slice of toast you had this morning only put enough fuel in the tank to last you till noon.
Before you even walk through the doors, you hear the loud hustle and bustle of students inside the food hall, signifying that the large majority of the school had already found their solace at the tables inside.
Flowing into the hall with the rest of the hungry students surrounding you, you begin scanning the surrounding area for your new friend.
The cliques of the school became apparent when they all congregated here - various walks of life all found their equals with the same interests and sat together on the tacky tables set out for dining purposes. There were the nerds, conveniently holding board-game figurines for you to decipher. A gang of girls sat at the next table over, with their scratchy voices overpowering any other noise from where you were standing. It was a safe assumption to say they were "the popular ones". You peered over at the next table, but quickly averted your eyes since the basketball team were sitting there.
Finding no one with hair that fuzzy, you resort to texting him. You assume he was either in the queue for food or hadn't arrived yet, so you find a spot to lean on up against the wall whilst you wait for a response.
A few moments pass before you feel your phone vibrate in your palm, and holding it up to your eye line reveals a message from Cheese.
"Look right!"
You peer over to your right as instructed, seeing a yellow blur through the glass pane that leads to the outside. Cheese is waving frantically at you with his phone in his hand.
Smiling, you begin to walk towards the nearest door leading out, glancing out upon the food hall one last time.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot some of the previously mentioned sports team looking at you.
Actually, scratch that, they're glaring at you.
They're probably still annoyed that you embarrassed their teammate on camera.
You push it out of your mind as you push the exit handle on the door, exposing yourself to the cool breeze out in the open air. The sudden sunlight blinds you for a moment, but once your eyes adapt, you see that Cheese is there to greet you, gesturing you to follow him.
You sceptically oblige him, trailing behind him as he leads you to their aforementioned "meet-up" spot. You make sure to remember this route for future reference.
Walking towards a small, separate building, you spot a bright red sign that reads:
UNAVAILABLE TO STUDENTS WITHOUT
You feel slightly more uneasy as you walk inside, hearing the door close behind you as Cheese covers his tracks. You now rely on the bar of yellow power being emitted by the cheap building lighting to view your surroundings.
"Hey, friend! What took ya so long?" He asks with some spring in his step as he guides you down a thin hallway.
Sound echoes through the old architecture around you, making your footsteps all the more ominous. Various doors populate the hallway, with clouded glass blocking anyone from snooping.
"Oh, y'know: Floods of students asking for my autograph, girls swooning over my presence. Just a normal Monday." You replied sarcastically, trying not to let your paranoia get the best of you.
He chuckles, coming to a stop in front of the second to last door. It has a brass handle, as well as a piece of paper taped to the window, with some sort of symbol on it. A horseshoe with a rainbow trail following it. You can hear muffled voices inside as you approach it, and blurs of colour populate the cloudy pane of glass.
"This your logo?" You ask, nodding towards the stray piece of paper fastened to the door.
He shakes his head, thankfully.
"Oh, no. We don't have any proper instruments, so we borrow this band's kit when they're not using it. Don't worry, they don't mind..." He reassures you, patting you on the shoulder.
Before you can offer any sort of response, he swings the door open, walking in with the same beaming smile he wore when you first met.
The room opens up to reveal 3 other students inside, each stationed with their respective instruments of choice in their hands. You made a mental note of the instruments in relation to their users - Keyboard, Vocals, Drummer, Bass and Tambourine. There was also an electric guitar portion of the room, but it was leaned away from you. The window was open inside, washing a pleasant breeze over you as you entered.
"So this is the guy you were talking about! Nice to meet you, man- A pale green spiritual-looking dude addresses you by name and approaches you, one arm holding the white keyboard-guitar hybrid, and the other outstretched, surprising you with a bro hug. You attempt to cling to the oxygen in your lungs as he presses your chests together with frightening force. Once he lets go, he gives you a warm smile.
Name's Brawly Beats. It's not every day you meet a man with the school at his feet!"
You shrug as his words of praise fill the room; He has a distinctively loud voice that almost rivals the Vice-Principal. You feel the imprint of the beads he's wearing around his neck on your skin from the pressure of his embrace.
"You can say that again - Timber Spruce, at your service." One of the others steps forward, offering his palm this time, which you happily grasp with good greetings. As his name suggests, his skin is the colour of spruce wood, with a deep green shading his swish-and-flick style of fringe. He is holding nothing and came to you from behind a microphone stand, so you presume he is the lead singer of the ensemble. He gestures towards the guy standing behind him holding a fancy-looking bass guitar, toying with the tuning pegs. He's sporting a snazzy grey blazer, along with a red shirt and white tie, contrasting his own bodily colour palette.
"This is Thunderbass - take a guess what he plays."
Moments later, Timber directs you over to the previously mentioned open window, to which you now discover someone sitting in front of it on a mat.
"And last, but not least - this is Sandalwood." He says, not receiving a response from the figure sitting in front of you.
The gentle breeze from the outside world rustles the lime braids made from Sandalwood's hair, with half of his head being covered by a fuzzy homemade beanie. His flared jeans helped with the cross-legged, fingers-intertwined meditation pose he was performing, accentuating the "Peace and Love" theme of his outfit, and most assuredly, his personality.
Timber clears his throat, making the Zen Master on the floor turn his head slightly.
"It's unwise to disturb someone in their flow state, Timb..." He unfolds his legs and stands, spinning himself to face you, before holding out his fist. You gladly return the favour, bumping it with your own and smiling at his chilled-out attitude.
"So, Golden Boy - Cheese says you play the guitar a lot. Think you're band-worthy?" Timber says, looking at you expectedly
You nod, looking over at the electric piece of craftsmanship, now in full view from where you were standing.
Before you lays a gorgeous electric guitar. The body sports a striped pattern of two shades of blue with a varnished mahogany finish on the fretboard. The tuning pegs are all fastened to the left side of the headstock, and the frets are labelled with individual gold-plated lightning flashes. You instinctively pick it up by the neck with your left hand, getting a feel for the weight and texture of the instrument.
Taking the pick from where the guitar was placed, you wrap the strap of brown leather over your shoulder, letting it rest by your stomach comfortably as you stand. Taking care, you pluck at each string in chronological order, listening to the soft pings of each note to check that it's in tune.
Finding nothing wrong with the sounds, you give it a medium-strength open strum, the sound of a familiar opening note gracing your fine-tuned ears. You give a nod to yourself as your quality check was fulfilled.
This is some serious kit.
"Serious kit, eh?" Timber says as he takes his own position behind the mic stand, tugging the device out of its holster. You see that the rest of the group has also made their way to their instruments, ready to play. Sandalwood had picked up the tambourine by his mat, along with Cheese taking his place behind the large drum kit situated in the far left corner of the room, twirling one of the drumsticks in his hands. Everyone else was where you'd first met them.
"Now that you've gotten yourself acquainted - I think it's time we test your mettle!"
You feel a slight wave of unease rising up your body at the thought of embarrassing yourself. You hadn't played for a crowd before - only your grade examiners, but that was forced.
You look around and see an amplifier beside you, with a jack connecting it to you on the ground. Picking it up, you slot it into the input on the underside of the guitar, before flicking the switch on the speaker to power it up. A low hum emanates from the amp as it prepares to produce the music you have at your fingertips.
"I think it'd only be fair to let you pick a song to play, what with you being the guest of honour and all..." Thunder says, his fingers poised and ready.
"Good idea!" Timber says conclusively, before looking at you.
Oh yeah, you actually have to think of a song.
Retro. [PREVIEW] (Reccomended)Rock. [PREVIEW] Pop. [PREVIEW]
Author's Note
Yeah, okay. Copyright's gonna do me in here, so set your expectations low.
You smile as a song perfect for the occasion enters your mind.
"Oh, I got one..."
You turn the dial at the base of the guitar up, aligning your fingers on the fretboard to play the chord.
Counting to the mental metronome in your head, you swing your arm up and down 3 times. The pick in between your fingers drifts over the strings like many times before, resulting in the amp beside you producing 3 harsh, but pleasant G chords.
Oh, this is gonna be fun.
Continuing the opening riff, you see the group's face light up as they recognize the song, with Cheese clicking his sticks together to count the rest of the band in.
The tension rose as you finished the starting riff, but it all washed away once the rest of the band joined in. The room began erupting into a collection of similar notes, all following the same beat that you had introduced, removing the initial fear from your body. You weren't here as a test - you were just here to have fun.
The noise ceased, save for Brawly's suddenly in unison as Timber's vocals filled the air, giving you a sense of familiarity as the band joined together to produce the popular pop song. He could certainly sing.
Your muscle memory kicked in as the drums continued, resulting in your fingers dancing along the fretboard seemingly out of your control. With the stereo to your right blasting decibel after decibel of powerful chords, the outside world began to blur as the 6 of you jammed together. They were all very skilled with their instruments, and it was evident they cared about their musical weapon of choice just as much as you do. It felt like you were back at home in your bedroom, playing along to the original track itself - the practice you had put in back then was certainly not going to waste now.
The group were dancing together in tandem with the beats you were producing - Timber was the most active because he didn't have anything in his hands, so he would occasionally gesture to a band member with a smile when their instrument was the focus of specific parts of the song.
You know from listening to the song so many times that a guitar solo was quickly approaching, and you see him turn towards you with a sly smirk on his face - he obviously knows it too.
As you mentally run through the notes, Timber suddenly points both fingers at you as the band opens the soundwaves for your performance!
Do the solo by the book. Really hammer it to impress your bandmates.
You let your muscle memory guide you as your fingers start to drag along the strings, matching the song that many had listened to countless times before this. A smile spread along your face as the familiar notes blessed your surroundings, creating a near-perfect replica of the original recording.
You can feel the band's gaze on your two moving appendages as you continued; goosebumps started to roll over your skin as all those hours of practice finally paid off.
Leaning back, you close your eyes and concentrate, imagining you're just back in your bedroom, running through it on your own. No one to judge you, no criticism heading your way.
Just the music.
Your fingers started to sting a bit as you hit the final notes of the solo. The strings had left indents in your fingers, making it slightly harder to play, but you continued nonetheless, not wanting to let your bandmates down.
Coming back around from your daydream, you open your eyes to see Timber with a pleased expression. Looks like your mettle has been tested enough...
Soon after that, the song came to a close, letting both you, your fingers, and the rest of the band take a break.
Re-attaching the microphone to its stand, Timber opened his mouth to say something, before his attention was caught by something behind you. You watched as he moved his gaze to the doorway behind you, the previously mentioned look of pride morphing into one of confusion. The rest of the band seemed to notice it as well.
Now wearing a confused face yourself, you craned your neck to see what had caught your new friend's attention.
Apparently, you had forgotten to properly close the door behind you when you entered, because there were now roughly 12 shades of colour standing in the doorframe, and all seemed to be of the female variety.
Looks like you've been found out.
Onwards...
Author's Note
well isn't this fun!
(17/08/23)
Reeling back, you conjure up all the memories of the various scales you were forced to play, thanking your old teacher for pushing you to your limit.
Letting loose on the strings, the new set of notes you were producing seemed to shock your bandmates, but it quickly turned to enjoyment and surprise once the melodies they were hearing ran parallel to their own music.
You can feel the band's gaze on your two rapidly-moving appendages as you continued; goosebumps started to roll over your skin as all those hours of practice finally paid off.
Leaning back, you close your eyes and concentrate. Your mind tells you that you're just back in your bedroom, running through it on your own. No one to judge you, no criticism heading your way.
Just the music flowing from your body.
Your fingers started to sting a bit as you hit the tail end of the solo. The string had left an indent in your fingers, making it slightly harder to play, but you soldiered on nonetheless.
Coming back around from your daydream, you open your eyes to see Timber with a mixed expression shocked and pleased. You seem to have exceeded his expectations, that's for sure.
Soon after that, the song came to a close, Letting both you, your fingers, and the rest of the band have a break.
Re-attaching the microphone to its stand, Timber opened his mouth to say something, before his attention was caught by something behind you. You watched as he moved his gaze to the doorway behind you, the previously mentioned look of pride morphing into one of confusion. The rest of the band seemed to notice it as well.
Now wearing a confused face yourself, you crane your neck to see what had caught your new friend's attention.
Apparently, you had forgotten to properly close the door behind you when you entered, because there were now roughly 12 shades of colour standing in the doorframe, all with impatient looks on their faces.
Looks like you've been found out.
Onwards...
Author's Note
well isn't this fun!
(17/08/23)
C'mon, Let's Get It Over With. (START HERE)
Ah, school. You can tell a lot about a person from where they went to school.
Most people attend state schools, some opt for private schools, and the rare few end up in boarding schools, where they're taught how not to get mocked by the students who go to state schools.
Despite these differences, one thing unites all students: a particular distaste for the education system.
Who would've guessed teenagers don't enjoy being woken up at stupid hours in the morning, just to be bossed around by adults three times their age? Not the teachers, apparently.
Well, guess what? You're no exception!
Snoozing soundly in your bedroom, one leg rests on the floor as the dusk becomes ever more apparent through your curtains. Your single soft inhalations are the only remnants of noise that can be heard in the solitary comfort of your bedroom.
It's safe to say you're sleeping quite peacefully.
As the sound of your phone's alarm shoots through your head, you jolt awake, making several unintelligible noises.
Get up.
Stay down.
Author's Note
this is gonna be fun.
As your body switches to manual mode, you take in your surroundings.
Posters adorn the walls, each a snapshot of your interests and passions.
The gentle morning breeze carries with it the distant sounds of chirping birds, the occasional honking of vehicles, and the rustle of leaves as the world outside beckons through the window you keep open every night.
Your favourite item in the room, your electric guitar, catches the morning light as it seeps through the partially closed curtains.
Hundreds of hours have been spent jamming to your favourite tunes (and hastily receiving complaints about the noise...) with that glorious piece of musical hardware, delicately resting in its stand, eagerly awaiting your next musical session.
But anyway, enough daydreaming: The day ahead.
As you stand up from your bed, the familiar urge to stretch your body washes over you, bringing a satisfying sense of relief.
You're an 18-year-old student at Canterlot High School, and it's more or less the middle of your first term since you moved into the area several months ago. Spring is just starting to pierce through the cold as the fauna outside begins to bloom after winter.
You can certainly feel it - as an early chill brushes against your chest, you shiver slightly.
Better put some clothes on! That'd be a good start.
Opening your wardrobe, you scan the several items of clothing you own, eventually landing on three possible outfits for the day ahead.
Smart.
Casual.
Rock-Hard.
You slide some clothes out of the way to view the full breadth of the outfit before you.
It was amazing!
It was original!
It was...
...A blank white top with a grey zip-up hoodie.
Ah well, you can't beat the classics.
A few swipes of deodorant later, you pulled the clothes off of the hanger and slid them on, brushing yourself off once you'd finished.
It's a Monday - No need to blow people away...
Onwards.
Happy with your choice of clothing, you open your bedroom door to join the rest of your family in the house.
As you walk down the stairs, the photos framed on the wall give you a warm smile as you recall the pleasant moments when they were taken.
You're very thankful for the memories they represent, and they remind you that whatever happens, your family will always be there to help you and guide you through it...
After reaching the bottom step, you find that the majority of your family has already left the house, with your father retreating to his office for a meeting. Through the doorframe, you can hear various muffled voices, so you decide to move quietly.
In addition to leaving you a slice of toast on the table, a note catches your eye. It reads:
"Eat Toast Quietly - Dad's Meeting On Now - Have A Good Day!"
Your mother's initials are signed at the bottom of the paper, and you mentally thank her for her thoughtfulness.
You eagerly take the toast, savouring the familiar taste as you place it in your mouth, freeing up both of your hands to pick up your bag and open the front door, making sure not to slam it on the way out.
Onwards.
He's obviously not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
"Fine, I'll rephrase it for you...
You allow for some dramatic silence to build.
...Buck. Off."
You stare him dead in the eyes as he processes your statement, watching the cogs turn in his mind.
He eventually comes around, his eye twitching with seething anger.
If this was a cartoon, steam probably would've shot out of his ears by now.
"You wanna buckinggo, bro?"
He's even more in your face now. So much so, that you can smell the pizza he had for breakfast this morning on his breath.
This is your chance to lay him out.
.
..
...
"Excuse me!" Someone calls out.
You let the moment linger before you're rudely interrupted by someone splitting the two of you apart. The back of Vice-Principle Luna's head fills your vision.
Saved by the bell...
"This isn't over!" He shouts after you as Luna focuses on him, pushing him away to reduce the tension, and letting you glance at the kid on the floor.
You hold your hand out, with him clutching it to pull himself up.
"You alright? He seemed to be pretty used to doing that." You asked him, picking up your bag from the floor.
"Heh, y-yeah - it's a regular occurrence..." He replies, clinging to his bag. "T-Thanks..."
You nod to him, patting him on the shoulder, before returning to your locker to retrieve the books you came to get.
You hear portions of your confrontation coming from various people's phones as the crowd disperses, remembering you were being recorded the whole time.
Welp. There goes your "Middle of the Bus" status.
Onward.
"So - what're you doing in music? Do you play an instrument? Can you read sheet music? What's your favourite band?"
You attempt to answer them in the order they were given, excluding the first question.
"Guitar, yes, and..."
You rattle off a few of your favourite songs (mostly pop, or rock...), and he smiles widely. It seems you've impressed him!
"No way! I love those, they're very good. I'm a drummer..."
"Figures." You think to yourself as he fills the conversation.
"...For a band!"
This catches your attention.
"Oh yeah? What's your band called?"
"We're called "The Other Half"!"
He wafts his hands in the air as if the words would magically appear in front of him as he says it.
You nod, slightly liking the name. You don't know enough yet to know if it makes sense, but the general vibe it gives off interests you.
"Good name." You respond, not thinking too much of it.
"Thanks! I didn't come up with it, Timber did..." He says, trailing off.
Suddenly, it appears a lightbulb has gone off underneath all that hair.
"Heeeey, you should come by our practice later! You're a stand-up guy, your head's screwed on tight - You said you played the guitar, right?"
He looks directly into your eyes, waiting for confirmation of what he heard less than a minute ago.
You nod, and his smile widens to something you've never experienced before.
"It's settled then! Lunchtime today, swing by the cafeteria. I'll be waiting for you there to show you where we usually meet. Oooh, this is gonna be so fun! We're gonna play and have fun and...
His words slowly fade to obscurity.
...What just happened?
Onwards.
Author's Note
I hope this acts as an adequate taster session!
(31/07/23)
Don't know how I pumped out so many of these in one go, but oh well.
Off you go.
(17/08/23)
Re-arranging your fingers, you get yourself mentally prepared for your performance. You fiddled with a few dials on the amp, before taking a deep breath.
Swinging your arm, you focused on the placement of your hand to properly convey the right notes. Instead of the standard soft strums that would normally leave the guitar, roars of scratchy chords filled the room as you played one of the most recognizable riffs in America.
Oh, this is gonna be fun.
Continuing the opening riff, you see the group's face light up as they recognize the song, with Cheese clicking his sticks together to count the rest of the band in.
The tension rose as you finished the starting riff, but it all washed away once the rest of the band joined in. First Cheese, but then the rest of the room began erupting into a collection of similar notes, all following the same beat that you had introduced, removing the initial fear from your body.
You weren't here as a test - you were just here to have fun.
The noise increased suddenly as Timber's vocals filled the air, giving you a sense of familiarity as the band joined together to produce the popular rock song. He could certainly sing, that's for sure. His voice closely mirrored that of the actual lead singer.
Your muscle memory kicked in as the drums continued, resulting in your fingers dancing along the fretboard seemingly out of your control. With the stereo to your right blasting decibel after decibel of powerful chords, the outside world began to blur as the 6 of you jammed together. They were all very skilled with their instruments, and it was evident they cared about their musical weapon of choice just as much as you do. It felt like you were back at home in your bedroom, playing along to the original track itself - the practice you had put in back then was certainly not going to waste now.
The group were dancing together in tandem with the beats you were producing - Timber was the most active because he didn't have anything in his hands, so he would occasionally gesture to a band member with a smile when their instrument was the focus of specific parts of the song.
You know from listening to the song so many times that a guitar solo was quickly approaching, and you see him turn towards you with a sly smirk on his face - he obviously knows it too.
As you mentally run through the notes, Timber suddenly points both fingers at you as the band opens the soundwaves for your performance!
Do the solo by the book. Really hammer it to impress your bandmates.
You took a more detailed look around the room as your mind searched through your catalogue of songs. Spotting a certain British album cover, you nodded to yourself, adjusting your fingers on the fretboard accordingly.
No time like the present.
Letting your arm breeze past the body of the flashy guitar, you began to play the opening riff of your song of choice, letting your fingers do the talking as they dragged across the rose-coloured neck.
Oh, this is gonna be fun.
Continuing the starting riff, you see the group's face light up as they recognize the song, with Cheese clicking his sticks together to count the rest of the band in.
The tension rose as you finished the starting riff, but it all washed away once the rest of the band joined in. The room began erupting into a collection of similar notes, all following the same beat that you had introduced, removing the initial fear from your body.
You weren't here as a test - you were just here to have fun.
The noise continued as Timber's vocals filled the air, giving you a sense of familiarity as the band joined together to produce the popular pop song. He could certainly sing.
Your muscle memory kicked in, resulting in your fingers dancing along the fretboard seemingly out of your control. With the stereo to your right blasting decibel after decibel of powerful chords, the outside world began to blur as the 6 of you jammed together. They were all very skilled with their instruments, and it was evident they cared about their musical weapon of choice just as much as you do. It felt like you were back at home in your bedroom, playing along to the original track itself - the practice you had put in back then was certainly not going to waste now.
The group were dancing together in tandem with the beats you were all collectively producing - Timber was the most active because he didn't have anything in his hands, so he would occasionally gesture to a band member with a smile when their instrument was the focus of specific parts of the song.
You know from listening to the song so many times that a guitar solo was quickly approaching, and you see him turn towards you with a sly smirk on his face - he obviously knows it too.
As you mentally run through the notes, Timber suddenly points both fingers at you as the band opens the soundwaves for your performance!
Do the solo by the book. Really hammer it to impress your bandmates.
