Life's Lullaby

by Dimondium

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark
Length: 1951

The way all drift to sleep...

A life is like a song. It plays out beautifully, and everypony enjoys it. But, both, at one point, must come to an unfortunate end.

A collaboration between two different authors, offering two shots at the same concept:
A pony driven mad by circumstance, and fully convinced she is right. No matter the cost.

The target is quite clear. Who did it better, though? You decide!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-18 12:00:01 UTC

Lullay (Take 1: Dimondium)

Woe is the pony who fights so fiercely against their saviour,

And pity the pony who deprives themselves of life's lullaby.

The way that l play it,

One would think twice before saying goodbye.

It's such a shame to see them do so,

Such a sad sight to watch them wallow in sorrow.

Many a pony refuses life's lullaby,

Even when their time is nigh.

The way that I play it,

Their final breath is but a lonely sigh.

A pony's song shines ever so bright,

And each has a tale to tell, so swell;

Yet when there comes the end, a light:

They try their best to fight.

As if their song should never end,

And that their essence be preserved, through concept and through the night.

Yet life's lullaby is something so soothing,

That welcomes all with open arms.

It distinguishes not from race or from age,

And yet we are taught to fear it, and the freedom of suffering that follows.

I am the bridge, the spokespony, the catalyst;

I am the one who truly sees the light.

I'm but the one pony who has been close enough to hearing it,

To truly take in its delight.

I play life's lullaby, to myself and in my heart each night.

It whispers sweet nothings in my ear, and clusters slowly in my sight:

'I am the release, I am the end:

I am ponykind's best friend.

Ponykind may not wish to meet me alone,

But it is you who is truly a precious stone.'

'Seek out them all,' it croons to me.

'Play them my song.

Only then can wrong be right,

And right can be wrong.'

I listen, and I play,

Countless ponies I take away every day.

I take them up under my wing, and allow them to hear,

I cannot yet, however, allow them the privilege of life's lullaby, so sweet and so pure.

There is but one mare, who must hear its serenade unwittingly and unaware,

Her actions ring far and wide,

But I suppose I must thank her:

She showed me life's lullaby.

It was over months so seemingly dreadful, and I found my hooves full

As trends swelled this way and that, and covered up my own bow and string:

It seemed to be led by her, and...

Some new-fangled thing.

It made beeps, boops, wubs and whirs,

And I found it completely absurd.

But as I watched, my career fell to bits around me,

And I had nothing left, thanks to her.

It was on a street much beside civilization, that I came to ponder...

What was our existence truly worth?

It was then, on a curb beneath the night sky, that I finally heard...

Life's lullaby.

She found me shortly after, as hard as it was to believe...

When I had been left, passed out, almost in its reprieve.

She took me in, and above all else, housed me and gave me shelter.

I didn't understand why she did it, but I realized she was blind as all the world was.

I reminded myself I had one duty: to play life's lullaby, for one and for all.

She admitted to me something I'd soon not expect,

The fact that she saved me out of her own affections.

It bothered me not, and in fact I saw a chance...

A chance to show her life's lullaby, and to embrace it as I would soon enough.

I labored under her affections for quite some time,

Even pretending that her kisses were sublime.

And finally, at the solstice of summer, I invited her to a surprise she'd soon not reject.

The highest of affections available, and where I stand now.

The silky smooth fabric of my bow, my tool, my player of lullabies rests in my hooves...

Its weight is all too familiar, light as a simple dream. Perfect for playing life's lullaby.

I stroke it carefully, though not without purpose:

My hooves seek a certain spot.

Even as the air chills around me, I find the spot, and with a careful touch, push;

And out of the end of my lullaby player, comes the shine of a sharp, metal blade not unlike its own shape.

It is what truly plays the lullaby,

And what truly ends the tale.

"Yo', Tavi'!" Comes a sudden cry from the adjacent room.

"You comin' any time soon? This is a bit uncomfortable to wait in..."

I simply smile, and push down on the bringer of lullabies, retracting it back into its hiding place.

"Coming, dear!" I call with a cheerfulness both forced and for truth. "I'm finishing up!"

I take one last look at my player of lullabies, and smile.

I have the chance to perform my duty now, to begin my career a new.

I can show them all its beauty,

And finally be at peace with the universe.

My gait as I enter the room is slow and steady,

I know what I'll find.

I take great pride in rounding the corner, and fixing my eyes

Upon Vinyl Scratch.

She does not stand, nor does she sit,

Instead she lays back and stares up with a seductive grin of sorts.

I know then that she will not resist,

And she will be first to taste life's lullaby.

Her back rests upon solid wood,

Her forehooves splay to the side split between the sturdily strung strings atop the wood, her hind legs much the same.

She is imprisoned, I might say, by what she imprisoned herself,

But she is about to be free.

I stride over to her, my grin widening by the second.

I position myself over her, gripping my lullaby player in my mouth.

I straddle the wood-and-string instrument ever so carefully,

Lowering myself until I rest centered upon the strings.

Her grin, though obscured by a wall of cello strings, is purely anticipating, trusting...

I intend not to violate that trust.

She will taste the lullaby,

And it will have begun.

It will begin with a single swipe, a single note,

And the lifeblood of eternity itself will spill out,

Filling the air and covering her in red,

Whisking her away to the land of nevermore, as life's lullaby echoes slowly in her ears.

Ponykind will come to know life's lullaby,

And its sweetness will ring true to all, to more than me.

The fear will be gone, and my purpose fulfilled.

Their tale will end, wholly and willingly.

For the moment, I lean forward, staring into her violet eyes.

They stare back, and the message is clear.

'Take me, show me the lullaby. I'm ready.

I believe.'

My hooves grip my bow, searching for the spot.

I find it quickly, and smile down once more.

"Lullay, young pony..." I whisper.

"Good night...forevermore."

Woe is the pony who fights so fiercely against their saviour,

And pity the pony who deprives themselves of life's lullaby.

The way that l play it,

One would think twice before saying goodbye.

It's such a shame to see them do so,

Such a sad sight to watch them struggle against the strings that hold them to eternal pleasure..

Many a pony refuses life's lullaby,

Even when their time is nigh.

The way that I play it,

Their final breath is but a quiet 'why...?'.

Vinyl Scratch's song shone ever so bright,

And she had a tale to tell, so swell;

Yet when there came the end, a light:

She tried her best to fight.

As if her song should never end,

And that her essence be preserved, through concept and through the night.

But no longer should they fight,

As young Vinyl Scratch did before she went.

For it is my duty to make them say goodbye...

At the hand of life's lullaby.

Songs (Take 2: Seth X)

The eternal slumber.

The final rest.

The 'blissful' sleep.

There is no escape.

There is no delaying.

There is no choice.

Everypony must comply.

No one is out of its grasp.

Not even the ones we call our rulers.

Their time will come.

Everypony's song must end.

And I...

I am the musican.

The one that makes the songs.

The one that ends them.

Everypony's song must end.

I must end everypony's song.

Even those who are like me.

The ones who make the songs.

And the ones that end them too.

But... they don't understand how to

end a pony's song.

I must teach them.

Everypony's song must end.

I end everypony's song.

My first student in this art:

Vinyl Scratch.

A very talented mare.

So energetic...

Lively...

Full of life..

However... she must learn.

Learn how to end a ponies song.

I will be her teacher.

She will be the student.

She will resist...

But I will tell her there is no reason to...

For everpony's song must end...

And I must end everypony's song.

She will lay before me, ready for her lesson.

Waiting for me to teach her.

To teach her this art.

She will cry.

She will beg not to be taught.

She will beg not for her song to end.

Odd behavior, I say.

She is learning such an important art.

An art that everypony should know.

An art that everypony should practice.

Despite this strange behavior, I will teach her.

I must teach her.

I must educate her.

It is my sworn duty as her teacher.

She will learn.

She does not know it yet, but she will grateful.

"Thank you, Miss Octavia." she will say.

"Thank you, for teaching me. I am forever in your debt."

She will thank me.

Thank me for ending her song.

Because then, she will realize;

Everypony's song must end.

And we must end everypony's song.

My bow.

It is the player of all songs.

It is the ender of all songs.

I will tell this to her.

She wont understand why I have done so.

I will show her why.

I will show her how it ends songs.

I will show her how it will end hers.

Her eyes will widen when they lay upon the silver... cold... metal edge.

The instrument that ends songs.

The instument I will use to end her song.

She will give me a fearful look.

And then beg me... one last time.

Not to teach her.

To let her song continue.

Poor, silly mare.

She still doesn't get it.

I will tell her this.

Then I would explain to this poor,

misguided mare that;

Her song,

Has gone on long enough.

Long enough to destroy my life.

Long enough to destroy my career as a musician.

Long enough to create my new career.

She will beg for forgivness.

Tell me she didn't mean it.

But it's too late now.

She must be taught.

My old life is over.

And my new life is about to begin.

Just... one stroke of my bow...

One stroke is all it will take.

And her song...

Will.

End.

I must end her song.

I must teach her what it is to be a... true... musician.

Everypony's song must end.

And I must end everypony's song.

...

...

...

...

...

...

Her song...

Has...

Ended.

And what an ending it was.

My bow stroking so rymythically.

Ending her song so quick.

So... beautifully.

What a masterpeice her song was.

And I was honored to have ended it,

And to teach her the art.

And now...

Well...

The once energetic Vinyl Scratch,

never seeming to calm down,

who had once been spewing out new songs non-stop...

Finally rests.

I have done my duty.

And my duty is done.

Everypony's song must end.

And I must.

End.

Everypony's.

Song.