Mirror: Book I - Mind

Gray and black clouds stretched across the skies above as far as the eye could see, the little lone unicorn trotting along as she regarded the sight somewhat drearily. The weather pegasi weren’t due for another spell of precipitation until the cold season, but Nightmare Night festivities were only a few days away now. She deemed it might be the reason for such a depressing sight on what ought to be a fine and wonderful day. It was the last day of her piano lessons, and the last day Dinky would go to see her teacher, Miss Melody. The little unicorn readjusted her saddle bag and hurried on, dread filling her senses, images of her sister filling her mind.

The young pony trekked carefully up the path to Octavia’s house, the skies growing all the more dim as she cleared the distance between her and the building. Soon enough, the recall of dread filled her senses once more, a familiar chill rushing down the little unicorn’s spine. It was similar to that of the discovery at Fluttershy’s cottage, mere moments before she and her friend had stumbled upon the chicken slaughter. Worse yet, the pony hadn’t a clue as to why this fear had returned to her, until she heard a cry from within. It was her teacher, eliciting a long and broken wail.

“Miss Melody!” Dinky picked up her hooves and charged past the door.

The scene unfurled before her like the aftermath of an unrelenting storm, as though a monster had ravaged through and left nothing unscathed in its wake. Music papers laid torn, bits and shreds cast across the floor. A broken bottle or two laid in their midst, the sickening smell of rotten oats and tree sap crawling up her nostrils. Across from the girl rested her teacher, a disheveled and defeated clump of fur wailing into her hooves as she rocked and wallowed back and forth across the carpet, stained to the boards with snot, tears and slobber. Her teacher was…drunk, Dinky surmised. No, not just drunk, but sad. Her teacher was angry, frustrated, at odds with something she simply could not comprehend, and quite evidently neither could the elder mare.

“M-Miss Melody…?” Dinky approached carefully. “What’s wrong? Why are you-”

Something brushed the end of her little hoof. The student looked down to find a sight that might bring every musician on this planet to a fit of rage and tears. Octavia’s cello rest in not one, but two pieces upon the floor. The bridge was split in half, chips and splinters sprinkled across the grainy floor. A sputter sounded from the other end of the room. The mare had finally ceased her crying, and she rolled over once more, brushing her shiny black locks apart to get a look at her little visitor.

“Dinky…?” The mare quivered. “Oh…oh no. No no no, I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you crying?” Dinky started carefully. “Are you hurt?”

At once, Octavia sprung and scrambled for the torn music sheets laying about, trying desperately to hide the bottles and wipe the drooling alcohol from her jaw. When the mare met her broken cello, she fell apart once again, the pieces of her mess falling in all directions as her face fell into her hooves. Dinky waited patiently for her teacher to answer, and the mare braved her posture once again.

“I didn’t mean for you to see me like this, I was only-” She sobbed evermore. “Oh, heavens forgive me, what have I done?!”

“It’s okay.” Dinky tried. “We can fix it.”

“No, no we can’t!” The earth mare shook. “Don’t you see? It’s all broken, I’m broken! I can’t do a damn thing right anymore, and the only pony I’ve got to blame is myself. I practiced the cello for thirty years, thirty years,and where has it gotten me?” She seethed. “I can’t write, I can’t compose, I can’t play anything that I want to play. It’s always the same songs day after day after day, and I can’t take it anymore! I’m stuck!”

Dinky felt her breath quicken as she took a step and another back, putting all of her focus into recomposing herself as to not act shaken in front of her teacher. Alas, the fear was all too evident within her eyes. Octavia froze and looked to her pupil, the sting of regret welling up in her sights. As the mare felt yet another onslaught of tears bridging across the creases of her gaze, she swallowed hard and addressed the younger pony as carefully and calmly as possible.

“I apologize. That was very uncouth of me, I should not have raised my voice.” Octavia’s eyes wandered across the tattered pages. She scrounged what little bits she could from the floor and hobbled back over to her spot on the floor. “I’m sorry, but there will be no lessons tonight, little one. You may go home now.” Octavia curled and pushed her face back into her mane, mumbling beneath her hooves. “Leave an old, useless mare like me to rot…”

In a near instant, the room fell deathly quiet. The little unicorn wavered where she stood, standing idly as though she were a lost child in the endless isles of the supermarket. The sights and sounds of the world were diminished into meaningless little nothings, and what hopes the little unicorn had left at obtaining some manner of purpose, at obtaining her own cutie mark, had almost completely and utterly vanished. In spite of the presence of another, she simply felt alone and encumbered with doubt. Then, her purpose reminded her of herself. Dinky’s eyes strafed to the left. There in the corner of the room next to the window where she always sat, was the piano.

Octavia laid quiet and distant upon the floor for a much longer while, uncertain whether her student had left or not. In that moment, her ear flickered. It was the piano, a collection of notes lining themselves up, albeit haphazardly and desperately in need of practice. As Octavia blinked the wet and bleary streaks of sorrow from her eyes, she turned and looked to find her student, sitting at the piano. Her hooves met the keys in unrelenting blows, her body tensed and her eyes focused, the little unicorn had somehow called forth a surge of determination. Octavia summoned what little tenacity she had left in her tired and aged body, and quietly approached her student.

“You’ve done well.” Octavia swallowed. “But, not good enough.”

Dinky looked back, the fire flaring in her pupils.

“Now, once more.”

And so, the Elegy of the Moonlight and various other collections of songs sounded throughout the house minute after minute, hour after hour, stroke after swipe, key and octave. The teacher tutored her pupil strict and straightforward as ever, and no matter how many times the little unicorn missed her keys, she was bound to get it right the next time. If not that time, then the time after that.

She would try again, and again, and again…

A pair of bandages had been wrapped around the little pony’s hooves. Octavia knew better than to let her pupil push herself so, but the waves on nonstop practice had ended up captivating both of their attention. With as much care as she could manage with her hooves alone the elder pony patched the little one’s back to health, seeking to join the remedy with a late night serving of tea. Dinky wasn’t exactly very fond of tea, but wasn’t about to reject the offer either. Oats and crackers, of course, were always on the table for refreshments. As the little unicorn glanced to the outdoors, nighttime had already taken over the skies, and she wondered just how long she had been there. Octavia returned soon after with a tray of beverages and snacks, calmly trotting over to the coffee table and resting the platter to its surface.

“I suppose you shall stay for the night?” She offered, pouring her cup of brew.

“If that’s alright with you.” Dinky nodded. “I’d hate to worry mom, too. I just know she’s going to come looking for me.”

“The roads may still be dangerous after dark, I’d hate to worry your mother as well.” The earth mare poured the other cup. “Until then, I’d be happy to have the company of my shining pupil. You’ve done a wonderful job, Dinky. I’m very proud of you.”

The little pony blushed and hid behind her mane, struggling to stifle the growing grin. “It’s nothing, really…All I did was keep on playing. I didn’t even think about stopping, not once.”

“And that, my little star, is the true key to success.” Octavia acknowledged, raising the cup to her lips and blowing lightly upon the hot liquid. She took a small sip before continuing. “It was you who helped remind me that my love for the cello came not for the pursuit of fame and success, but rather the act of playing such a heavenly instrument, and the act of playing it alone is what ignited my love for it. To hear the strum of the bow along the strings, it gave me life…”

“That cello must’ve been very special to you.” Dinky glowered, images of the broken instrument filling her head.

“It can be fixed.” Octavia nodded confidently. “I know that for a fact now. And above all else, I will always have the memories.” The mare halted mid drink, eyes wide as she lowered her cup. “Ah, yes, which reminds me. Since you’ll be spending the night, there’s something I ought to show you.”

“It’s not another music sheet, is it?” Dinky asked cautiously.

“Even better, a photo album!” Octavia hooted.

Even worse… Dinky minded.

Her guest waited patiently at the coffee table as the mare escaped into her bedroom and pulled forth the binder in question, trotting out a moment after to clear some space and lay the pages down before them. She remembered to flip past the infant years this time, to save herself the embarrassment that her roommate had undoubtedly enjoyed at her expense. As the pictures flipped by, images of bridges and buildings stacked like great halls and isles filled the curious little unicorn’s eyes.

“Is that Trottingham?” Dinky looked on, bedazzled.

“Indeed.” Octavia nodded and smiled. “This is where I was born and spent the majority of my early years. When I was only a little younger than you are now, I would spend my days trotting the markets and helping mother sew quilts.”

“Sounds…fun?” Dinky tilted her head.

“But some days, I would explore the woods and play games with the boys.” Octavia reminisced. “Ah yes, the Bellemonts, such a rowdy bunch those lads were.”

Dinky laid silent, but blinked with interest. The earth mare swiped over and flipped to the next page, planting her hoof to one image in particular. The grainy black and brown filter of the photo spelt its age, but the black-maned little filly within the pictures was as recognizable as ever. Every picture, as the mare began to recall, had been taken by a very good friend of hers. Enticing games of hide and seek and interests in forest fairy tales had eventually led to their discovery of a strange structure which resided in the heart of the Trottingham woodland realm. The locals had called it the “Mansion of Trottingham.”

“What were their names?” Dinky asked. “Your friends, I mean.”

“Their names have long left my memory by now.” Octavia admitted. “But, if I do recall, that mansion…I do believe something had happened there.” She mumbled to herself.

“Maybe that’s the place where you got your cutie mark?” Dinky supposed.

“Could it be?” The earth mare wondered, staring upon the photo of the mansion.

The little unicorn laid silent once again, glancing past the assortment of photos until her eyes landed upon the family and friends that Octavia had to accompany her with back home. Oddly enough, there were some striking similarities when Dinky had compared her life to that of her teacher’s. A little pegasus boy focused in one of the photos, and with that the girl’s mind reached back to recent memories of her companion and friend.

“Miss Melody?” Dinky began.

The mare blinked, broken away from her thought.

“Erm…no, never mind.” The filly waved a hoof.

“Go on, speak your mind.” Octavia encouraged.

“Well, it’s just…since you’re from Trottingham I thought that maybe you would know about something like this.”

“Like what?” The mare waited.

“What do Trottingham colts like?” The filly asked.

Octavia sat back and settled for a moment to take in the little pony’s words, trying to comprehend what exactly the child was asking of her. Had the call of curiosity finally been bestowed upon this growing mare, only for the lessons to be burdened upon a simple piano instructor, instead of this child’s mother? The earth pony grumbled deeply within her mind. At a time like this? How should I know?! She lightly tapped her hooves together.

“Hmm, well.” Octavia started calmly. “Is there somepony in particular you have in mind?”

No, wait! Octavia winced. That was the wrong question.

“I-I guess you could say that.” Dinky replied, timidly peering down into her cup of tea. “There’s this boy I see every now and then, and I think he’s from Trottingham just like you. It’s just…well…sometimes I get a little nervous around him.”

“Nervous?”

“It feels like there’s butterflies in my stomach, or my lips are glued together. There’s a lot of things I want to say, but I don’t know how to say it.” Dinky went on. “He was one of the very first in our class to receive his cutie mark. Me? I don’t even have mine yet. Sometimes I think I’m not even worthy to be around him. He’s smart, talented, and always helps out other ponies whenever he can.”

As the elder mare listened, she reached back to what little she could remember on her experience with colts, only to come up far more empty-hoofed than what was good for her. Thus, Octavia simply spoke from her mind.

“I’m positive that if you are to act kind, give him plenty of attention, and most importantly remember to be yourself, this friend of yours will surely come around.” Octavia nodded. “Why, if you were to tell him everything that you told me, everything will work out perfectly.”

“I see.” Dinky nodded, attempting to calm her nerves. She supposed that it was fairly sound advice, better than any she had received before, and quite frankly the only amount of acknowledgment she had been provided ever since this little dilemma popped up in her brain. Alas, the second guessing came sooner than anticipated, and the filly was babbling on once more. “B-B-But, what if he ends up not liking me? What if he says we can’t be friends anymore? What if-?! Oh no, what if he’s already found somepony else?” The little unicorn curled in on herself. “Augh, why does talking with boys have to be so complicated, Miss Melody?”

Why do I have to deal with this child’s upbringings and not her mother? Octavia sighed.