The Great Filly Violin Prodigyby HeartTortoisePigeonDogChaptersCrows in a WheatfieldDried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 1)Dried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 2)AmbiguitiesCrows in a WheatfieldCountry Fiddle was born in Ponyville. Her father, an outstanding talent, himself, was performing at the town hall when he received word that his wife was in the Ponyville hospital with their new-born daughter. He hurried out of the hall without any word to the audience. When he breathlessly arrived to the room where his wife was, he saw in her arms a small, smiling filly, full of life, giggling softly. "What a beautiful daughter we have." He cried. Gently lifting one of her small hooves, and arching and letting fall her night-blue hair, he gave a significant happy glance at his wife and gazed back at their cheery filly, though in that face repressing a feeling like sadness that often accomapnies the knowlege that something so happy will end or will be lost, or has ended. Her light-yellow coat, the smell of dried grasses wafting in from the fields, and the merry violin tune he had stopped short at the town hall; capriciously, he gave her a name: "Country Fiddle..." Her parents smiled together, approvingly. The scene was, for all the world, like any other. A certain, puzzling frown, though like a smile to her parents, grew on Country Fiddle's face. Soon after Country Fiddle's birth her family returned to Canterlot. In Canterlot they ere had another daughter: almost Country Fiddle's twin, but with a grey coat and a dark-gray mane and tail, named, Octavia. Being Canterlot ponies themselves, Country Fiddle and Octavia's parents were high-class ponies and thought very highly of themselves, so they were also very busy ponies. From an early age, their father taught them to play on a great variety of instruments; they were made to practice daily. Soon certain, favorable talents were proven on an instrument: Country Fiddle loved the Violin; Octavia loved the cello. As soon as they could, almost soon after they could speak, their father had them perform in many duets on many instruments at Canterlot concert halls. Princess Celestia was present at every performance. The music they played was always quite simple but exceptional for their age, especially for earth ponies. Their parents were both unicorns, and it was at times difficult to teach their daughters certain tunes with their hooves. Now, though they worked hard, at times it was bitter work, their father was not so hard; he loved his daughters and loved seeing them play music, and they did enjoy playing music very much. You could imagine how excited they must have been when, after all of Canterlot knew of the famous fillies, and their reputation spreading slowly across Equestria, backstage, Princess Celestia said that she wanted one of them to study under one of her personal musicians; she was sad to say, however, that this musician was only looking for one student. "What?" Their father protested, "But certainly he could make an exception--my girls are as near in talent as they are in image--!" With lingering regret, Princess Celestia said, "I understand your wish for both your fillies to be excepted and succeed, but, I regret to say, it is not my decision to make. I tried every means to persuade him, myself, but he said, firmly, he would only teach one or none at all." Their father averted himself in frustration and stomped his hoof violently. Country Fiddle and Octavia had never seen their father mad like this, and were not a little frightened. He turned back to Princess Celestia, composure renewed but with a defeated air. "Fine. He can have it his way," drawing circles with his rear hoof, "And how will he choose?" Princess Celestia smiled sympathetically. "Be at the Canterlot Castle Theatre tomorrow morning; he will be there to judge whom he will tutor. I will also be there with my student." Turning to the fillies, their colors contrasting, and kneeling down to their level, "And I wish you both the best of luck." With that, she departed. The fillies exchanged excited, uneasy smiles. The next morning, all the way to the Theatre, their father muttered things anxiously under his breath, and, again and again, telling his daughters to do their best, and to remember to be sure to do this and that, and to avoid doing such and such a thing; and, he emphasized, not to worry, and to relax. They came to the back of the Theatre and were let in. The fillies shifted the weight of their instruments on their backs. As Princess Celestia was talking with their father, who was pacing nervously, about what to expect and what Beethoofen, the musician, was wanting to see, the fillies were tuning their instruments. Octavia, closest to the curtain, pulled it slightly aside and looked out into the theater; Country Fiddle joined her younger sister. In the front row sat three: Beethoofen, gray coat and wild indigo mane, sat in the first seat to the right of the center aisle; on the other side of the aisle sat a filly like themselves, with a lavender coat and a violet, pink-stripped mane; beside her sat a small purple baby dragon. They certainly made a unique audience. They felt Princess Celestia's presence before she spoke. "No need to worry. Now," taking them under her wings and hugging them, "Country Fiddle, Octavia, you both will do brilliant and stun this silly musician, for sure. And remember: have fun and enjoy yourselves." With one last comforting hug, she left them to take her seat in the audience. Their father trotted up to them and seemed about to say something, but then seemed to think it best to say nothing at all, and instead took them both up in his hooves and kissed them both with all his love for them. "I will start with the youngest first," They heard Beethoofen call out. They all took a deep breath and walked to the side of the stage. "Good luck, Little Sis," Country Fiddle hugged Octavia. "I just know you'll do the best!" Octavia could only smile with glad tears. She walked to center-stage, cello in hoof. He father worried she looked kinda awkward, and wondered if Beethoofen was thinking the same. Yet, he was so proud to see his little daughter on stage, on the threshold of a great future. "Don't worry, Daddy." Country Fiddle could see her father was very worried. "Octavia has the best piece picked out; she's guna win for sure!" Her father shed a tear and took her up in his hoof. "Begin when ready," the indifferent Beethoofen said. Octavia adjusted the pink bow on the white collar around her neck, picked up the cello bow cleanly, and cleanly began to play her piece. It was a sad piece which turned happy near the end. Octavia played her piece perfectly and expertly, without missing a single beat or note. When she finished, Princess Celestia was seen smiling a huge smile of admiration; the lavender filly seemed confused; the purple dragon couldn't stop crying. All three applauded her loudly and enthusiastically, the baby dragon a little too enthusiastically. Beethoofen merely gazed indifferently on and languidly clapped his hooves. Country Fiddle was next. She had little time to congratulation her sis before Beethoofen impatiently called out to her to hurry out. Country Fiddle cantered out with her violin. She wasn't wearing anything, like Octavia, so she merely twirled up her bow to the violin and waited for Beethoofen to tell her to start. As soon as he opened his mouth to say just that, she began her piece. Her piece, in contrast to Octavia's, was a very cheery piece. Country Fiddle was not as expert a musician as her younger sister, and could be heard to miss a few notes and accidentally add a few, and miss her beats, slightly. These mistakes, though, seemed to go on with little notice and were very few in number. But, suddenly, she made a slip she could not cover. Beethoofen's eyebrow noticeably raised; her father and sister became worried. This was it: she lost!--so why not, she whimsically thought, have some fun? She started with a rapid note and played from there. She played passionately for the last bit--complete improvisation! When she finished, all four in the audience were silent. The lavender filly began to clap, and, almost at the same time, so did Beethoofen; then Princess Celestia and the baby dragon stood up and cheered, followed by the lavender filly and Beethoofen. Astounded, Country Fiddle dropped her bow. Her father's mouth was agape. Octavia ran on stage and tackled her big sis in a hug. Country Fiddle couldn't believe it! She had lost and only wanted to go out on a capricious flourish--why was everypony cheering? Yet, she knew in her heart that she did only just what she thought Beethoofen would like, and played only an extreme variation of the end of her sister's piece, and so smiled wryly. Beethoofen came up to her and ruffled her hair. "Congratulations, little one: you've won!" Dried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 1)"Oh, I am so, so, so, so, soooo happy for you, Big Sister! Of course, I am also kinda sad you have to go--but still, you won! And you're gunna study under Beehoofen! You're gunna stay in the Castle!" Octavia hadn't let her go since leaving the theatre, and it was hard to walk. "Yes, Country Fiddle, you did outstanding. I could not think of a more perfect performance. That piece you played, clearly one of your own--you had your sister and I worried near the end that you didn't know how to finish it, but," with a great flourish of his hoof, "you expertly finished with the most unique ending I have ever had the great pleasure of hearing." Her father, carrying Octavia's cello, rained praise on praise on his eldest daughter as a way of covering up his hidden, broken desire: he had wanted Octavia to win. Still, how could he not be proud of Country Fiddle's original piece? He smiled, flourished his hooves, rustled her hair, pinched her cheek, and added praise on praise on her performance while Octavia continued to cling to and congradulate her sister. "And, of course, you simply must invite us to the castle sometime--I know mummy and daddy would surely love it!" She took Country Fiddle's violin as they approached their house. "And you should rest, Fiddlesticks. Daddy and I will take care of the essetials for packing," she beamed, adding a playful note on Country Fiddle's nick-name. It was only Octavia who ever used the nick-name. Country Fiddle held open the front gate for her father and sister. Her father kissed her, smiling ear to ear, as he walked past her. Country Fiddle stopped Octavia and took back her violin. "It's alright. Beehoofen had said I won't be needing anything but my violin: everything will be provided for me there." "Oh," she sighed, not a little disappointed, lowering her head and letting her mane cover an eye. There was a sparkle in her lavender eye that Country Fiddle could faintly see. Octavia suddenly perked up and again backed her sis' violin. "Let me at least take your violin to your room for you; you deserve it; please?" She could see, in her little sister's cheery eyes, that it would be vain to protest, and assented. Octavia brightened and galloped off through the small front garden and into their house. Country Fiddle lingered at the gate, looking out into the street, for a moment. All the praise had made her inwardly cringe, and she still felt the sting. "It isn't right," she reflected. "I should have lost! I made that slip and, in a deserate attempt to cover it up and impress, stole my sister's ending to her song. I messed up so much... And they all thought it was an original piece!" The guilt pierced her deeper. Throughout all of Canterlot, ponies had done their best to disfiguer and cover the ground with bricks and stone, but the small gardens and the air still proved that spring was spring. "Country Fiddle!" Her father called from under the eves. "Do come inside: your mother has lunch ready." Though she could cover it with passive lies, the truth was still the truth. She desided she would tell her family right away. Yet all throughout lunch she hesitated to begin. She ate only about half her food. It wasn't untill lunch was almost over that she gathered the courage and timidly spoke up. "Um..." She shook, afraid what they would think. "Everypony--family. I--I have to confess something that's been on my mind and tearing at my... heart..." They all looked conserned on their little filly. Octavia stopped chewing, cheeks still full of food. "I--I had... well... that piece I played--it wasn't an original piece--nor a creative interpretation--it was a song by Anponyo Vivaldi--and the ending was only a varriant I stole from Tavi's ending to her song--" She couldn't continue. She spoke so quickly, her family at first didn't seem to know if they had heard her right. Then, suddenly, of all ponies, her mother burst out laughing. Her father seemed to force a smile, but it seemed genuine all the same; and Octavia giggled, graciously trying not to spit out her food, and playfully tossed her sister's mane. "It's no joke!!" "Oh, sweetie, we don't doubt it. It's simply funny that you should take it so seriously," her mother managed, still giggling. "All ponies do just what you did all the time," turning to his wife, "well, the successful ones, at least. What does it matter if everypony thought it was original--or creative--what matters is that it entertained us and made us feel something; not to metion it truely showed us your unique, singular musical talent, and your talent to recover and make something your own (now that we know that it wasn't intentional). Honey, you have a great, stupendious talent in music--prodigical!--don't deny youself that." "Yeah, it's okay, big sis. I'm actually very flattered that you used a part of the song I played." "But---but, Tavi," burning tears welling up within her. "Come now," her father standing promtly up and picking up the dirty china plates and silverware with his magic, "You are clearly over-stressed from such an outstanding performance in the presence of the renouned Beehoofen. You simply need to relax. What say you all to a small stroll in the Canterlot Gardens?" Author's Note Well I've had this written down and lying there for literally WEEKS. This was to be only a part of a much longer chapter, but seeing as Discord van Gogh has been taking up most of the space in my mind of late, and this seems it could be a complete short chapter in itself, I leave it as it is and make it one half of a 2-part chapter which will focus on her confession and the reations from first her family, and then---.... EDIT: I change my mind. (If details seem lacking, I appologize for the inconvinience, but it all will be filled in in its proper time. It never was going to be a traditional linear story. Its purpose is more to reveal the life of a character and the lessons she learns. Think: Yasunari Kawabata...) Dried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 2)All the way to the Gardens, Coutry Fiddle couldn't rid herself of the cold waves of guilt that took over her. She felt that she was over thinking it all, and the latent exertion was making her feel nauseous. "I guess if everypony does it, in some way or other, it really can't be all that bad," she reasoned with herself. "Hehe... and Tavi, she did say she actually liked that I used part of her piece... Ahhhr! I'm simply thinking about this too much... It wasn't wrong what I did... It wasn't wrong that I won... It isn't wrong--there's--...nothing wrong..." She imperseptively shook, "But then why do I feel like crying...?" In attempt to distract herself, she began to look around as they walked. Tavi was ahead of her a few paces, walking with their parents. They were talking and laughing. Her father happened to glace back at Country Fiddle, and a singular glint glassed over his eye. He quickly turned back to Octavia and brushed her mane with his magic before brushing it with one hoof, as if to cover up the previous action. There was something distant in the way he did that: her father always used to brush their hair with his own hooves... didn't he? Was he simply distracted, or had something changed? Her mother muttered something to both her father and Octavia, and Octavia turned around and saw that Country Fiddle had slowed her pace and had fallen further behind. "Come on Fiddlesticks! Giddy-up slow-poke! We're almost to the Gardens!" She giggled playfully, and cantered back to meet Country Fiddle. She hugged her elder sis, slipped behind her, and pushed her rump foward to try to get her to walk faster. "Get along now, big sis. No more moping!" When Country Fiddle showed resistance to speeding up, Octavia thought she was merely foaling around, and pushed harder, using her shoulders now instead of her forehooves. "Come... on... F--hmp--sticks!" Their parents chuckled, watching this cute scene. "Please do keep up, hunny." Their mother said to Country Fiddle. "Heheheh... Don't make us come back there, you two," She added when Country Fiddle promtly sat down on her rump, making it near impossible for her younger sister to push her any further. "Fiddllllllestiiiiiiiicks!" Octavia cried, slumping down and sliding down Country Fiddle's back, gently tugging on her mane with her mouth. "I wanna play hide and seek with you in the Gardens one last time before you have to leave!" "Well, we're nearly there; your mother and I wish to gaze at the flowers. We'll meet you two there, I suppose. Behave and be there quickly, now. Tavi, take care of your bigger sister, you hear," Their father added with a wink. Their mother quickly glaced at their father curiously before turning to her daughters and blowing them each a kiss. That's odd... Country Fiddle thought to herself. Octavia suddenly attempted to tackle Country Fiddle, but narrowly missed. "Country Fiddle!" She bit her sister's tail and tried to playfully drag her. Country Fiddle only distantly stared. Octavia jumped in fromt of her and growled, trying to shock her out of her silly contemplativeness. "Come on, Country Fiddle!" Still drawing no response, she thrust her mouth forward, teeth bared, and bit down inches from her nose with a kind of playfully-menacing bark. "Big Sis!" A kiss on the cheek finally elicited a shake of the head. "Please, Fiddlesticks; you really ought to cease these melancholy spells of yours: they're no good for you." Octavia lifted her up to stand. "You'll just have to let things like that go--all those saddening, depressive things..." they began to walk, "and just be happy! Put a smile on--distract yourself from it somehow; that always seems to work best when you've done it before. Find some entertainment to get your mind off it." She nugged her with her rump. "You really did amazing, you know. Did you see the way daddy's face lit up as he was talking about you--the way Beehoofen couldn't stop laughing when he talked with daddy--the looks mommy gives you--Country Fiddle, with that single piece you've made our whole family and everypony who heard you play happy, and glad and proud of you. Even the Princess couldn't stop talking praise of you when we left: I saw it when you and daddy went ahead out the door; she just talked and talked with Beehoofen and turned to her student the whole time saying 'Country Fiddle the Great...' and 'Country Fiddle the Prodigy...' and so many other nice things. You've really made her very happy! And if that's not something to be proud of, then I don't know what is!" She lifted her head up and let out a laugh. Country Fiddle giggled; Octavia's playfulness, genial smile and laugh, and true encouragement was contegeous. "That's it!" Octavia laughed. Country Fiddle gave in, and joined her great, sweet little sister, laughing. The emotion built up, and then--"You're right!" Country Fiddle jumped up and kicked her hooves on the pavement making a cheery little beat. "What am I doing dreading this and pulling myself into the mire of despaire--in something so insignificant?" Octavia smiled confidently: she had once again helped her big sis smile and come out of another depressive mood; it always filled her with a unique pride that could only be produced by doing this. "I won!" She beamed and kissed her little sister, making the latter blush and well-up with self-satisfied pride. "And I'm going to be studying under none other than Beehoofen's horn! I'll be learning so much; and this will, no doubt, bring so much oppritunities into my life in something I love!" She suddenly took up Octavia in a big hug, lifting her up. "Thank you Tavi! Thank you for always being there to cheer me up." And with tears in her eyes, "You're the best sister I could ever ask for..." Octavia jumped out of Country Fiddle's embrace, wiggling her legs giddily, and tagged her with her nose. "You're it!" Recieving a look from her big sis that said, "It is so on!" She ran off along the public side of the Castle and into the Gardens, giggling. Country Fiddle didn't chase her right away, but instead took a moment to look up at the castle, magestic and gray with pink windows, that stood almost blending into the stark clear-blue sky. So this was it: this was where she would be tomorrow morning; this was where she would be studying for the next two years--lesson after lesson, recital after recital; setting all the tickled city of Canterlot a-dancin'.... Their father had always told them that they would make it: become famous. She smiled proudly, ear-to-ear, so big that--it didn't hurt, but rather felt uplifting, relaxing, and relieving. And yet, on the threshold of it all... it all felt so cliche. It felt all so expected. The would-be melancholy thoughts drifted away when she passed into the Gardens and began to chase after her younger sister, just as she always did in talent and in seeking praise, for the last time. After she caught her, they then decided to now play hide-and-seek. Country Fiddle hid while Octavia sought her. Octavia did not find her Big Sis hiding under the statue of Discord before their parents called to them that it was time to go back home. AmbiguitiesThat night, Country Fiddle had strange dreams like memories.... Octavia and I sat on the embroidered couch in the drawing room in which our father would chiefly have us practice. All sorts of instruments lined the walls, on the floor along the walls or hanging on the walls. It was a big room, but the organized clutter often made Tavi uneasy; but as soon as she started playing an instrument, those uneasy feelings passed and were replaced by an almost too calm serenity--almost cold in nature. The room seemed different. There were doors all around the room that were not there before. "Tavi? When did all these doors become installed?" "What? Country--Country Fiddle, they've always been there," she spoke as though what she said was the most obvious fact in the world. She turned her head slightly to the side and winked with one eye at me, and the other turned toward the ceiling. "Is the clutter of the room finally getting to you, big sis? Heheh. Strange: the one day I am completely content with the lack of normalcy in here, you are all nervous in it. Quite contrary to your usual fascination with everything odd." What was she talking about? She seemed, if anything, more anxious than usual. She moved and changed her position on the couch constantly, not finding any position comfortable. I was unsure if she was less trying to find a comfortable way to sit than more trying to shake off a certain dread that the room would close in on her. Suddenly a door opened and our mother and father walked in. "Mommy! Daddy!" Octavia cried, and galloped up into their hooves. They smiled and hugged her tenderly. Then they turned to me with stern faces. "Country Fiddle," my mother said. "Will you check on the chimney, please? Be a sugar-cube for mummy and daddy, would you?" "What chimney?" "Darling," my father interjected, "The same one that we've always had: the one in the middle of the house. Your mother thinks it's unsafe and has called some chimney maker lad or other to assess it. I say it is fine, and should stay," he turned to mother with a dissatisfied look. "It warms the whole house and keeps it well together! Ah, but Country Fiddle," turning back to me, and with a motion of his head pointing out some door--which door, it was hard to say, "Go see how that strange pony is doing, and report back to us (he should most likely be in the basement now); we have some things we need to discuss with Octavia, alone." His tone dropped and became cold with the mention of Octavia. A strange lightheadedness overcame me and vanished as quickly as it came. A small shock that wasn't there pushed my head back like a twitch. And then a dreadful feeling of deja vu rose up, staring at that scene of Tavi crawling up onto our father's back, giggling; and our mother making sweet kissing faces at her. Our father gazed sterenly at me. I felt his impatiance rise more than I saw it in his figure. "Go now, Country..." "Right through that door, deary. Just behind you," my mother vaguely motioned with a small indifferent wave of her hoof. I backed up, not sure what to make of this scene, and pushed open the first door my hindlegs made contact with, without lifting my gaze from my family. I found myself in a dark room, wondering there was no light in the entry. I tripped on something and fell over against something, and something like pots and pans fell over me. "That's the pantry, silly," I heard Tavi laugh at me. I opened back up the door and sat down at the table to eat diner. I hadn't touched my food the entire time. My mom walked over and stroked my mane, cooing. "Sweety, what's the matter? You haven't even touched your food." A smell like sewage fell from her words and lept into my nose, stinging terribly. The rest of the plates, my mother's, my father's, and Tavi's were all white and very clean. They had eaten everything on their plates. My was still full of food. With horror I looked at my plate and saw it covered in mold and moggots. "Well," my mother proceed to take my plate, "if you won't eat, at least share it with the rest of the family." And she dished a heap of the filth out on each of their plates, but the pile on my own seemed to become no less large. They all glutonously ate their spoils. "You ungateful worm! After all we've done for you!" My parents yelled at me with the kindest of expressions on their face. The juxaposition of their warm, loving smiles and cold, mean, harsh words only made me all the more disgusted. They poured sweet, delicious sauce all over the rotten food on my plate and placed it back before me. The suace covered every bit of the rotten food, so the dish looked very delicious. Unwillingly, I ate the delicious food. The flavor of sauce was so great I could taste nothing foul. But I quickly rolled over and fell onto the flooor for the pain in my stomach. "I don't understand you, Fiddlesticks," Tavi talked over me, petting my mane and looking with great false pity. "You know your position," (I looked up at the gilded ceiling; the beams felt as though they threatened to crush me) "and yet here you are, denoucing all that our kind and loving parents have done for you." She shifted her position so her cutie mark stared at me. The yellow of the walls and violet of her cutie mark seemed to flash against each other. My eyes hurt. I talked without feeling that the words were really my own. "I can't lie anymore, Big Sis." Why would I call her that? I looked up and saw she did indeed look older than me now. My own blank flank only proved to confirm my immaturity. "I hate keeping this image..." Octavia glared at me, as if wishing to instill the idea that something terrible that happened was all my fault. She yanked me up and gave me a sharp push past the crimson cutains and onto the stage. "Then play, you foalish--" I took up my violin and played. The audience roared in acclaimation. The lights about my head burned and I was in the castle. Beehoofen was berating me. I could not understand what he was trying to tell me. His words were nonsense words. All there was was loud screaming. I walked through Manehatten and saw posters of me plastered eveywhere: "The Great Filly Violin Prodigy!!!" Translucent cogwheels spun in my vision; yellow flashes superimposed upon them. The appearent fame made me uncomfertable. I wandered untill I came to a large temple. A strong red stallion with an orange flame-like mane stood guard in the entrance. I wanted to go inside and watch the opera inside, but he would not let me pass. I impressed on him I had a ticket, and showed it him, but still I could not be allowed admittence. Suddenly he stepped back inside the temple, closing and locking the double doors. So I was locked out. I looked along the stone brick walls. There was a door some particularly proud pony was walking out of along the wall. He forgot to lock it. So, when he passed a corner, I snuck inside. The lighting was curious: all pinks and blues. The gears kept spinning and the yellow flashing. I could hear the sounds of the opera of Mozclop's distantly, echoing through the stone walls. I was in a corridor. Some way down the right, the corridor extended to some wooden scaffolding. I climbed the stairs of the scaffolding. It was appearently winter, for the air in the corridor was freezing; but as I climbed higher and higher the air turned increasingly warmer untill it became oppressively hot. The stone walls burned to the touch. At the top of the scaffolding was another long corridor. It was much smaller that the wide one below, and I had to be very careful lest I touch the burning walls. Eventually the corridor opened up a bit larger, and turned left. Some ways down this corridor was a portal of light I soon found was light from the stage. It was densely threaded with metal wire, covering the whole of it. No pony in the audience would be able see me through it. I was straight over the stage, at a point I could see both all the faces of the audience and the performers. I now noticed, something that I couldn't have, without strain, noticed under the heat and exersice, that the sound was amplified. The position of this portal seemed to take up all the sound below and funnel it straight up. I could hear voices of the ponies talking to each other about the opera and gossip of other things, and the gentlest of taps of the performers' silk shod hooves. The opera was Mozclop's famous: Don Giovanni. That most famous of pieces in the opera had only just begun, in which the ghost of Giovanni's father comes up and accuses his own son. There was a shock in the back of my head that thrust my head forward. I looked back and saw nothing there. I looked back at the opera, simply giddy at being able to watch and listen to it, having the best seat in the house. It felt as though I were actually on the stage, walking amongst them. Again the same shock. I turned and saw a train with a rod touching electric wires above it. Something happened and the rod smashed against the wires and purple sparks shot out. The train disappeared and I was burned by the spaks--not because they hit me (they did not shoot at me) but because I reached out to them, with my hooves and mouth wide open to catch them. In that moment I felt I would give anything to hold them in my hooves or mouth. Suddenedly I was staring back at the stage. I do not know how it happened. The more I gazed on at the whole scene the more distanced I became from it. I stopped my pouring in to the act and instilling my own feelings onto that of the audience. Looking at them all, engrossed in gawking at this piece, or if not, idylly chatting about one thing or other. They seemed, not just the audience, but also the performers, trapped in some state of permenant entertainment. The mesh on the portal vanished, and I fell through; only by chance did I bite a rope and hung there. I was so high above the floor below. Oh if only they would only look around they would see a poor pony about to fall to her death! Entertainments everywhere; how do they hold on to who they are? Flashes of images appeared everywhere: Tavi was with some friend of hers she has yet to meet; they are talking about my eccentricites as something foolish and a kind of amusement, and talking pityingly of my position and poor behavior. My parents are looking for me in the Castle Gardens. A wave of mud. The moon smiles at me: a smile is the chosen vehicle of all ambiguities. Another cast-off mare wrote something to me I cannot read. Some lion's paw held the rope while an eagle's claw cut it and I fell. The gears ground against one another producing a deafening screech; the yellow flashes brightened and I could see nothing else.... Country Fiddle woke up to the sweet smell of breakfast. Under her blankets she was sweating and hot, but the air outside her covers was cool and refreshing. A crow cawed something outside her window. The curtains were still over the windows and the lighting in her room looked green to her. She sat up and Octavia, who was laying beside her, sprang up and hugged her big sister so tenderly it almost made Country Fiddle want to cry. "Morning sleepy head!" She sung. "Mommy and Daddy are almost done with breakfast. I helped a bit, but when I came and saw you still asleep, I crawled back into bed with you and waited for you to wake up so I could be the first to say 'morning to you." She smiled. It was hard to believe that her sweet little sister could be portayed so cold in her dreams. But Country Fiddle wasn't thinking of that; indeed, as soon as she woke up she had entirely forgotten her dreams, and was only left with a vague ominous foreboding she only wished to shake off and forget. Octavia jumped out of the bed and playfully pulled Country Fiddle up and on to her hooves. "Let's go!" She hopped over to the door and swung it open. "No need to get ready. There will be time for that later. Come on, hurry up!" She laughed as Country Fiddle walked next to her, smiling sleepily. Country Fiddle still had that morning haze about her eyes. The light flowing in from the windows in the dining room was so bright she winced. The smell of sweet blueberry pancakes pulled up her nose; all at once the bright light was not something to hide from but to run to and feel the warmth therein. "Today's your big day!" Octavia hopped forward and pulled out a chair for her big sis to take. Country Fiddle, though still very sleepy, eagerly climbed up into it. "Chuka chucka chucha chaka choooo!" Ovctavia mimiced the sounds of a train when she pushed in the chair and then laughed at her own silly sound. She was so happy for Country Fiddle she just wanted to shout it out to the world; but she couldn't quite do that, so she did all she could to show it in small little acts instead of one big one. It felt more special this way anyhow, she mused. "Tavi," Country Fiddle managed after a yawn, "I still haven't properly said good morning to you--" "How does one properly greet another in the morn? Oh look! Here comes mommy from the kitchen!" And, lo, there she was, radiant, with a full plate of delicious golden blueberry pancakes and a ornate glass jar of pure maple syrup in her field of magic. "Morning sweetie! We've made your favorite." "That's too much--" but Contry Fiddle was cut off by her father. "Good morning my dearest, outstanding Country Fiddle!" She heard him say from the kitchen. "We are all so proud of you and wanted you to have the most perfect morning to go out on...." Before we don't see much of you for two or more years, her mother left unsaid. Nothing negative, nothing negative, she repeated to herself. She set the food befoer Contry Fiddle and lovingly kissed her eldest daughter's cheek. Just at that moment her father flew into the room with a rather large and mis-shapen cupcake. "And look what Octavia has made for you!" He flew it far out in front of him, before Country Fiddle so she could get a good look. "She baked it and I did the frosting!" It was a dark chocolate cupcake. The frosting on top was arranged into a picture: Octavia and herself were in the middle, Tavi hanging onto her back, hooves around her neck; their parents were on either side of them, hugging snd holding them with one arm each. They were all smiling. They were on a very artificial grass plain, with blue sky and yellow sun. Before she knew it her family was pressed up against her and hugging her in just the same way as depicted on the cupcake. They then all kissed and said a few tender words of affection to their genius daughter, and then took their respective seats at the table. A few pancakes flew off her plate and onto the rest of her families plates. That explains the over abundance of them, Country Fiddle smiled to herself. Proceeded was the passing of the syrup, pouring of orange juice, the ping and clang of plates and glasses, and light-hearted idle chatter spotted every now and again, though rather evenly, with praise and affection directed at Country Fiddle. After breakfast Country Fiddle would leave for the castle.... Author's Note This has to be the weirdest chapter I've written yet.... And I loved writing it! It was quite hard to figure where I should cut it off. In the end, just beofer the "good-byes" seemed well enough Hope y'all are enjoying. And thankye!
Crows in a WheatfieldCountry Fiddle was born in Ponyville. Her father, an outstanding talent, himself, was performing at the town hall when he received word that his wife was in the Ponyville hospital with their new-born daughter. He hurried out of the hall without any word to the audience. When he breathlessly arrived to the room where his wife was, he saw in her arms a small, smiling filly, full of life, giggling softly. "What a beautiful daughter we have." He cried. Gently lifting one of her small hooves, and arching and letting fall her night-blue hair, he gave a significant happy glance at his wife and gazed back at their cheery filly, though in that face repressing a feeling like sadness that often accomapnies the knowlege that something so happy will end or will be lost, or has ended. Her light-yellow coat, the smell of dried grasses wafting in from the fields, and the merry violin tune he had stopped short at the town hall; capriciously, he gave her a name: "Country Fiddle..." Her parents smiled together, approvingly. The scene was, for all the world, like any other. A certain, puzzling frown, though like a smile to her parents, grew on Country Fiddle's face. Soon after Country Fiddle's birth her family returned to Canterlot. In Canterlot they ere had another daughter: almost Country Fiddle's twin, but with a grey coat and a dark-gray mane and tail, named, Octavia. Being Canterlot ponies themselves, Country Fiddle and Octavia's parents were high-class ponies and thought very highly of themselves, so they were also very busy ponies. From an early age, their father taught them to play on a great variety of instruments; they were made to practice daily. Soon certain, favorable talents were proven on an instrument: Country Fiddle loved the Violin; Octavia loved the cello. As soon as they could, almost soon after they could speak, their father had them perform in many duets on many instruments at Canterlot concert halls. Princess Celestia was present at every performance. The music they played was always quite simple but exceptional for their age, especially for earth ponies. Their parents were both unicorns, and it was at times difficult to teach their daughters certain tunes with their hooves. Now, though they worked hard, at times it was bitter work, their father was not so hard; he loved his daughters and loved seeing them play music, and they did enjoy playing music very much. You could imagine how excited they must have been when, after all of Canterlot knew of the famous fillies, and their reputation spreading slowly across Equestria, backstage, Princess Celestia said that she wanted one of them to study under one of her personal musicians; she was sad to say, however, that this musician was only looking for one student. "What?" Their father protested, "But certainly he could make an exception--my girls are as near in talent as they are in image--!" With lingering regret, Princess Celestia said, "I understand your wish for both your fillies to be excepted and succeed, but, I regret to say, it is not my decision to make. I tried every means to persuade him, myself, but he said, firmly, he would only teach one or none at all." Their father averted himself in frustration and stomped his hoof violently. Country Fiddle and Octavia had never seen their father mad like this, and were not a little frightened. He turned back to Princess Celestia, composure renewed but with a defeated air. "Fine. He can have it his way," drawing circles with his rear hoof, "And how will he choose?" Princess Celestia smiled sympathetically. "Be at the Canterlot Castle Theatre tomorrow morning; he will be there to judge whom he will tutor. I will also be there with my student." Turning to the fillies, their colors contrasting, and kneeling down to their level, "And I wish you both the best of luck." With that, she departed. The fillies exchanged excited, uneasy smiles. The next morning, all the way to the Theatre, their father muttered things anxiously under his breath, and, again and again, telling his daughters to do their best, and to remember to be sure to do this and that, and to avoid doing such and such a thing; and, he emphasized, not to worry, and to relax. They came to the back of the Theatre and were let in. The fillies shifted the weight of their instruments on their backs. As Princess Celestia was talking with their father, who was pacing nervously, about what to expect and what Beethoofen, the musician, was wanting to see, the fillies were tuning their instruments. Octavia, closest to the curtain, pulled it slightly aside and looked out into the theater; Country Fiddle joined her younger sister. In the front row sat three: Beethoofen, gray coat and wild indigo mane, sat in the first seat to the right of the center aisle; on the other side of the aisle sat a filly like themselves, with a lavender coat and a violet, pink-stripped mane; beside her sat a small purple baby dragon. They certainly made a unique audience. They felt Princess Celestia's presence before she spoke. "No need to worry. Now," taking them under her wings and hugging them, "Country Fiddle, Octavia, you both will do brilliant and stun this silly musician, for sure. And remember: have fun and enjoy yourselves." With one last comforting hug, she left them to take her seat in the audience. Their father trotted up to them and seemed about to say something, but then seemed to think it best to say nothing at all, and instead took them both up in his hooves and kissed them both with all his love for them. "I will start with the youngest first," They heard Beethoofen call out. They all took a deep breath and walked to the side of the stage. "Good luck, Little Sis," Country Fiddle hugged Octavia. "I just know you'll do the best!" Octavia could only smile with glad tears. She walked to center-stage, cello in hoof. He father worried she looked kinda awkward, and wondered if Beethoofen was thinking the same. Yet, he was so proud to see his little daughter on stage, on the threshold of a great future. "Don't worry, Daddy." Country Fiddle could see her father was very worried. "Octavia has the best piece picked out; she's guna win for sure!" Her father shed a tear and took her up in his hoof. "Begin when ready," the indifferent Beethoofen said. Octavia adjusted the pink bow on the white collar around her neck, picked up the cello bow cleanly, and cleanly began to play her piece. It was a sad piece which turned happy near the end. Octavia played her piece perfectly and expertly, without missing a single beat or note. When she finished, Princess Celestia was seen smiling a huge smile of admiration; the lavender filly seemed confused; the purple dragon couldn't stop crying. All three applauded her loudly and enthusiastically, the baby dragon a little too enthusiastically. Beethoofen merely gazed indifferently on and languidly clapped his hooves. Country Fiddle was next. She had little time to congratulation her sis before Beethoofen impatiently called out to her to hurry out. Country Fiddle cantered out with her violin. She wasn't wearing anything, like Octavia, so she merely twirled up her bow to the violin and waited for Beethoofen to tell her to start. As soon as he opened his mouth to say just that, she began her piece. Her piece, in contrast to Octavia's, was a very cheery piece. Country Fiddle was not as expert a musician as her younger sister, and could be heard to miss a few notes and accidentally add a few, and miss her beats, slightly. These mistakes, though, seemed to go on with little notice and were very few in number. But, suddenly, she made a slip she could not cover. Beethoofen's eyebrow noticeably raised; her father and sister became worried. This was it: she lost!--so why not, she whimsically thought, have some fun? She started with a rapid note and played from there. She played passionately for the last bit--complete improvisation! When she finished, all four in the audience were silent. The lavender filly began to clap, and, almost at the same time, so did Beethoofen; then Princess Celestia and the baby dragon stood up and cheered, followed by the lavender filly and Beethoofen. Astounded, Country Fiddle dropped her bow. Her father's mouth was agape. Octavia ran on stage and tackled her big sis in a hug. Country Fiddle couldn't believe it! She had lost and only wanted to go out on a capricious flourish--why was everypony cheering? Yet, she knew in her heart that she did only just what she thought Beethoofen would like, and played only an extreme variation of the end of her sister's piece, and so smiled wryly. Beethoofen came up to her and ruffled her hair. "Congratulations, little one: you've won!"
Dried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 1)"Oh, I am so, so, so, so, soooo happy for you, Big Sister! Of course, I am also kinda sad you have to go--but still, you won! And you're gunna study under Beehoofen! You're gunna stay in the Castle!" Octavia hadn't let her go since leaving the theatre, and it was hard to walk. "Yes, Country Fiddle, you did outstanding. I could not think of a more perfect performance. That piece you played, clearly one of your own--you had your sister and I worried near the end that you didn't know how to finish it, but," with a great flourish of his hoof, "you expertly finished with the most unique ending I have ever had the great pleasure of hearing." Her father, carrying Octavia's cello, rained praise on praise on his eldest daughter as a way of covering up his hidden, broken desire: he had wanted Octavia to win. Still, how could he not be proud of Country Fiddle's original piece? He smiled, flourished his hooves, rustled her hair, pinched her cheek, and added praise on praise on her performance while Octavia continued to cling to and congradulate her sister. "And, of course, you simply must invite us to the castle sometime--I know mummy and daddy would surely love it!" She took Country Fiddle's violin as they approached their house. "And you should rest, Fiddlesticks. Daddy and I will take care of the essetials for packing," she beamed, adding a playful note on Country Fiddle's nick-name. It was only Octavia who ever used the nick-name. Country Fiddle held open the front gate for her father and sister. Her father kissed her, smiling ear to ear, as he walked past her. Country Fiddle stopped Octavia and took back her violin. "It's alright. Beehoofen had said I won't be needing anything but my violin: everything will be provided for me there." "Oh," she sighed, not a little disappointed, lowering her head and letting her mane cover an eye. There was a sparkle in her lavender eye that Country Fiddle could faintly see. Octavia suddenly perked up and again backed her sis' violin. "Let me at least take your violin to your room for you; you deserve it; please?" She could see, in her little sister's cheery eyes, that it would be vain to protest, and assented. Octavia brightened and galloped off through the small front garden and into their house. Country Fiddle lingered at the gate, looking out into the street, for a moment. All the praise had made her inwardly cringe, and she still felt the sting. "It isn't right," she reflected. "I should have lost! I made that slip and, in a deserate attempt to cover it up and impress, stole my sister's ending to her song. I messed up so much... And they all thought it was an original piece!" The guilt pierced her deeper. Throughout all of Canterlot, ponies had done their best to disfiguer and cover the ground with bricks and stone, but the small gardens and the air still proved that spring was spring. "Country Fiddle!" Her father called from under the eves. "Do come inside: your mother has lunch ready." Though she could cover it with passive lies, the truth was still the truth. She desided she would tell her family right away. Yet all throughout lunch she hesitated to begin. She ate only about half her food. It wasn't untill lunch was almost over that she gathered the courage and timidly spoke up. "Um..." She shook, afraid what they would think. "Everypony--family. I--I have to confess something that's been on my mind and tearing at my... heart..." They all looked conserned on their little filly. Octavia stopped chewing, cheeks still full of food. "I--I had... well... that piece I played--it wasn't an original piece--nor a creative interpretation--it was a song by Anponyo Vivaldi--and the ending was only a varriant I stole from Tavi's ending to her song--" She couldn't continue. She spoke so quickly, her family at first didn't seem to know if they had heard her right. Then, suddenly, of all ponies, her mother burst out laughing. Her father seemed to force a smile, but it seemed genuine all the same; and Octavia giggled, graciously trying not to spit out her food, and playfully tossed her sister's mane. "It's no joke!!" "Oh, sweetie, we don't doubt it. It's simply funny that you should take it so seriously," her mother managed, still giggling. "All ponies do just what you did all the time," turning to his wife, "well, the successful ones, at least. What does it matter if everypony thought it was original--or creative--what matters is that it entertained us and made us feel something; not to metion it truely showed us your unique, singular musical talent, and your talent to recover and make something your own (now that we know that it wasn't intentional). Honey, you have a great, stupendious talent in music--prodigical!--don't deny youself that." "Yeah, it's okay, big sis. I'm actually very flattered that you used a part of the song I played." "But---but, Tavi," burning tears welling up within her. "Come now," her father standing promtly up and picking up the dirty china plates and silverware with his magic, "You are clearly over-stressed from such an outstanding performance in the presence of the renouned Beehoofen. You simply need to relax. What say you all to a small stroll in the Canterlot Gardens?" Author's Note Well I've had this written down and lying there for literally WEEKS. This was to be only a part of a much longer chapter, but seeing as Discord van Gogh has been taking up most of the space in my mind of late, and this seems it could be a complete short chapter in itself, I leave it as it is and make it one half of a 2-part chapter which will focus on her confession and the reations from first her family, and then---.... EDIT: I change my mind. (If details seem lacking, I appologize for the inconvinience, but it all will be filled in in its proper time. It never was going to be a traditional linear story. Its purpose is more to reveal the life of a character and the lessons she learns. Think: Yasunari Kawabata...)
Dried Labrynthine Hedges (Part 2)All the way to the Gardens, Coutry Fiddle couldn't rid herself of the cold waves of guilt that took over her. She felt that she was over thinking it all, and the latent exertion was making her feel nauseous. "I guess if everypony does it, in some way or other, it really can't be all that bad," she reasoned with herself. "Hehe... and Tavi, she did say she actually liked that I used part of her piece... Ahhhr! I'm simply thinking about this too much... It wasn't wrong what I did... It wasn't wrong that I won... It isn't wrong--there's--...nothing wrong..." She imperseptively shook, "But then why do I feel like crying...?" In attempt to distract herself, she began to look around as they walked. Tavi was ahead of her a few paces, walking with their parents. They were talking and laughing. Her father happened to glace back at Country Fiddle, and a singular glint glassed over his eye. He quickly turned back to Octavia and brushed her mane with his magic before brushing it with one hoof, as if to cover up the previous action. There was something distant in the way he did that: her father always used to brush their hair with his own hooves... didn't he? Was he simply distracted, or had something changed? Her mother muttered something to both her father and Octavia, and Octavia turned around and saw that Country Fiddle had slowed her pace and had fallen further behind. "Come on Fiddlesticks! Giddy-up slow-poke! We're almost to the Gardens!" She giggled playfully, and cantered back to meet Country Fiddle. She hugged her elder sis, slipped behind her, and pushed her rump foward to try to get her to walk faster. "Get along now, big sis. No more moping!" When Country Fiddle showed resistance to speeding up, Octavia thought she was merely foaling around, and pushed harder, using her shoulders now instead of her forehooves. "Come... on... F--hmp--sticks!" Their parents chuckled, watching this cute scene. "Please do keep up, hunny." Their mother said to Country Fiddle. "Heheheh... Don't make us come back there, you two," She added when Country Fiddle promtly sat down on her rump, making it near impossible for her younger sister to push her any further. "Fiddllllllestiiiiiiiicks!" Octavia cried, slumping down and sliding down Country Fiddle's back, gently tugging on her mane with her mouth. "I wanna play hide and seek with you in the Gardens one last time before you have to leave!" "Well, we're nearly there; your mother and I wish to gaze at the flowers. We'll meet you two there, I suppose. Behave and be there quickly, now. Tavi, take care of your bigger sister, you hear," Their father added with a wink. Their mother quickly glaced at their father curiously before turning to her daughters and blowing them each a kiss. That's odd... Country Fiddle thought to herself. Octavia suddenly attempted to tackle Country Fiddle, but narrowly missed. "Country Fiddle!" She bit her sister's tail and tried to playfully drag her. Country Fiddle only distantly stared. Octavia jumped in fromt of her and growled, trying to shock her out of her silly contemplativeness. "Come on, Country Fiddle!" Still drawing no response, she thrust her mouth forward, teeth bared, and bit down inches from her nose with a kind of playfully-menacing bark. "Big Sis!" A kiss on the cheek finally elicited a shake of the head. "Please, Fiddlesticks; you really ought to cease these melancholy spells of yours: they're no good for you." Octavia lifted her up to stand. "You'll just have to let things like that go--all those saddening, depressive things..." they began to walk, "and just be happy! Put a smile on--distract yourself from it somehow; that always seems to work best when you've done it before. Find some entertainment to get your mind off it." She nugged her with her rump. "You really did amazing, you know. Did you see the way daddy's face lit up as he was talking about you--the way Beehoofen couldn't stop laughing when he talked with daddy--the looks mommy gives you--Country Fiddle, with that single piece you've made our whole family and everypony who heard you play happy, and glad and proud of you. Even the Princess couldn't stop talking praise of you when we left: I saw it when you and daddy went ahead out the door; she just talked and talked with Beehoofen and turned to her student the whole time saying 'Country Fiddle the Great...' and 'Country Fiddle the Prodigy...' and so many other nice things. You've really made her very happy! And if that's not something to be proud of, then I don't know what is!" She lifted her head up and let out a laugh. Country Fiddle giggled; Octavia's playfulness, genial smile and laugh, and true encouragement was contegeous. "That's it!" Octavia laughed. Country Fiddle gave in, and joined her great, sweet little sister, laughing. The emotion built up, and then--"You're right!" Country Fiddle jumped up and kicked her hooves on the pavement making a cheery little beat. "What am I doing dreading this and pulling myself into the mire of despaire--in something so insignificant?" Octavia smiled confidently: she had once again helped her big sis smile and come out of another depressive mood; it always filled her with a unique pride that could only be produced by doing this. "I won!" She beamed and kissed her little sister, making the latter blush and well-up with self-satisfied pride. "And I'm going to be studying under none other than Beehoofen's horn! I'll be learning so much; and this will, no doubt, bring so much oppritunities into my life in something I love!" She suddenly took up Octavia in a big hug, lifting her up. "Thank you Tavi! Thank you for always being there to cheer me up." And with tears in her eyes, "You're the best sister I could ever ask for..." Octavia jumped out of Country Fiddle's embrace, wiggling her legs giddily, and tagged her with her nose. "You're it!" Recieving a look from her big sis that said, "It is so on!" She ran off along the public side of the Castle and into the Gardens, giggling. Country Fiddle didn't chase her right away, but instead took a moment to look up at the castle, magestic and gray with pink windows, that stood almost blending into the stark clear-blue sky. So this was it: this was where she would be tomorrow morning; this was where she would be studying for the next two years--lesson after lesson, recital after recital; setting all the tickled city of Canterlot a-dancin'.... Their father had always told them that they would make it: become famous. She smiled proudly, ear-to-ear, so big that--it didn't hurt, but rather felt uplifting, relaxing, and relieving. And yet, on the threshold of it all... it all felt so cliche. It felt all so expected. The would-be melancholy thoughts drifted away when she passed into the Gardens and began to chase after her younger sister, just as she always did in talent and in seeking praise, for the last time. After she caught her, they then decided to now play hide-and-seek. Country Fiddle hid while Octavia sought her. Octavia did not find her Big Sis hiding under the statue of Discord before their parents called to them that it was time to go back home.
AmbiguitiesThat night, Country Fiddle had strange dreams like memories.... Octavia and I sat on the embroidered couch in the drawing room in which our father would chiefly have us practice. All sorts of instruments lined the walls, on the floor along the walls or hanging on the walls. It was a big room, but the organized clutter often made Tavi uneasy; but as soon as she started playing an instrument, those uneasy feelings passed and were replaced by an almost too calm serenity--almost cold in nature. The room seemed different. There were doors all around the room that were not there before. "Tavi? When did all these doors become installed?" "What? Country--Country Fiddle, they've always been there," she spoke as though what she said was the most obvious fact in the world. She turned her head slightly to the side and winked with one eye at me, and the other turned toward the ceiling. "Is the clutter of the room finally getting to you, big sis? Heheh. Strange: the one day I am completely content with the lack of normalcy in here, you are all nervous in it. Quite contrary to your usual fascination with everything odd." What was she talking about? She seemed, if anything, more anxious than usual. She moved and changed her position on the couch constantly, not finding any position comfortable. I was unsure if she was less trying to find a comfortable way to sit than more trying to shake off a certain dread that the room would close in on her. Suddenly a door opened and our mother and father walked in. "Mommy! Daddy!" Octavia cried, and galloped up into their hooves. They smiled and hugged her tenderly. Then they turned to me with stern faces. "Country Fiddle," my mother said. "Will you check on the chimney, please? Be a sugar-cube for mummy and daddy, would you?" "What chimney?" "Darling," my father interjected, "The same one that we've always had: the one in the middle of the house. Your mother thinks it's unsafe and has called some chimney maker lad or other to assess it. I say it is fine, and should stay," he turned to mother with a dissatisfied look. "It warms the whole house and keeps it well together! Ah, but Country Fiddle," turning back to me, and with a motion of his head pointing out some door--which door, it was hard to say, "Go see how that strange pony is doing, and report back to us (he should most likely be in the basement now); we have some things we need to discuss with Octavia, alone." His tone dropped and became cold with the mention of Octavia. A strange lightheadedness overcame me and vanished as quickly as it came. A small shock that wasn't there pushed my head back like a twitch. And then a dreadful feeling of deja vu rose up, staring at that scene of Tavi crawling up onto our father's back, giggling; and our mother making sweet kissing faces at her. Our father gazed sterenly at me. I felt his impatiance rise more than I saw it in his figure. "Go now, Country..." "Right through that door, deary. Just behind you," my mother vaguely motioned with a small indifferent wave of her hoof. I backed up, not sure what to make of this scene, and pushed open the first door my hindlegs made contact with, without lifting my gaze from my family. I found myself in a dark room, wondering there was no light in the entry. I tripped on something and fell over against something, and something like pots and pans fell over me. "That's the pantry, silly," I heard Tavi laugh at me. I opened back up the door and sat down at the table to eat diner. I hadn't touched my food the entire time. My mom walked over and stroked my mane, cooing. "Sweety, what's the matter? You haven't even touched your food." A smell like sewage fell from her words and lept into my nose, stinging terribly. The rest of the plates, my mother's, my father's, and Tavi's were all white and very clean. They had eaten everything on their plates. My was still full of food. With horror I looked at my plate and saw it covered in mold and moggots. "Well," my mother proceed to take my plate, "if you won't eat, at least share it with the rest of the family." And she dished a heap of the filth out on each of their plates, but the pile on my own seemed to become no less large. They all glutonously ate their spoils. "You ungateful worm! After all we've done for you!" My parents yelled at me with the kindest of expressions on their face. The juxaposition of their warm, loving smiles and cold, mean, harsh words only made me all the more disgusted. They poured sweet, delicious sauce all over the rotten food on my plate and placed it back before me. The suace covered every bit of the rotten food, so the dish looked very delicious. Unwillingly, I ate the delicious food. The flavor of sauce was so great I could taste nothing foul. But I quickly rolled over and fell onto the flooor for the pain in my stomach. "I don't understand you, Fiddlesticks," Tavi talked over me, petting my mane and looking with great false pity. "You know your position," (I looked up at the gilded ceiling; the beams felt as though they threatened to crush me) "and yet here you are, denoucing all that our kind and loving parents have done for you." She shifted her position so her cutie mark stared at me. The yellow of the walls and violet of her cutie mark seemed to flash against each other. My eyes hurt. I talked without feeling that the words were really my own. "I can't lie anymore, Big Sis." Why would I call her that? I looked up and saw she did indeed look older than me now. My own blank flank only proved to confirm my immaturity. "I hate keeping this image..." Octavia glared at me, as if wishing to instill the idea that something terrible that happened was all my fault. She yanked me up and gave me a sharp push past the crimson cutains and onto the stage. "Then play, you foalish--" I took up my violin and played. The audience roared in acclaimation. The lights about my head burned and I was in the castle. Beehoofen was berating me. I could not understand what he was trying to tell me. His words were nonsense words. All there was was loud screaming. I walked through Manehatten and saw posters of me plastered eveywhere: "The Great Filly Violin Prodigy!!!" Translucent cogwheels spun in my vision; yellow flashes superimposed upon them. The appearent fame made me uncomfertable. I wandered untill I came to a large temple. A strong red stallion with an orange flame-like mane stood guard in the entrance. I wanted to go inside and watch the opera inside, but he would not let me pass. I impressed on him I had a ticket, and showed it him, but still I could not be allowed admittence. Suddenly he stepped back inside the temple, closing and locking the double doors. So I was locked out. I looked along the stone brick walls. There was a door some particularly proud pony was walking out of along the wall. He forgot to lock it. So, when he passed a corner, I snuck inside. The lighting was curious: all pinks and blues. The gears kept spinning and the yellow flashing. I could hear the sounds of the opera of Mozclop's distantly, echoing through the stone walls. I was in a corridor. Some way down the right, the corridor extended to some wooden scaffolding. I climbed the stairs of the scaffolding. It was appearently winter, for the air in the corridor was freezing; but as I climbed higher and higher the air turned increasingly warmer untill it became oppressively hot. The stone walls burned to the touch. At the top of the scaffolding was another long corridor. It was much smaller that the wide one below, and I had to be very careful lest I touch the burning walls. Eventually the corridor opened up a bit larger, and turned left. Some ways down this corridor was a portal of light I soon found was light from the stage. It was densely threaded with metal wire, covering the whole of it. No pony in the audience would be able see me through it. I was straight over the stage, at a point I could see both all the faces of the audience and the performers. I now noticed, something that I couldn't have, without strain, noticed under the heat and exersice, that the sound was amplified. The position of this portal seemed to take up all the sound below and funnel it straight up. I could hear voices of the ponies talking to each other about the opera and gossip of other things, and the gentlest of taps of the performers' silk shod hooves. The opera was Mozclop's famous: Don Giovanni. That most famous of pieces in the opera had only just begun, in which the ghost of Giovanni's father comes up and accuses his own son. There was a shock in the back of my head that thrust my head forward. I looked back and saw nothing there. I looked back at the opera, simply giddy at being able to watch and listen to it, having the best seat in the house. It felt as though I were actually on the stage, walking amongst them. Again the same shock. I turned and saw a train with a rod touching electric wires above it. Something happened and the rod smashed against the wires and purple sparks shot out. The train disappeared and I was burned by the spaks--not because they hit me (they did not shoot at me) but because I reached out to them, with my hooves and mouth wide open to catch them. In that moment I felt I would give anything to hold them in my hooves or mouth. Suddenedly I was staring back at the stage. I do not know how it happened. The more I gazed on at the whole scene the more distanced I became from it. I stopped my pouring in to the act and instilling my own feelings onto that of the audience. Looking at them all, engrossed in gawking at this piece, or if not, idylly chatting about one thing or other. They seemed, not just the audience, but also the performers, trapped in some state of permenant entertainment. The mesh on the portal vanished, and I fell through; only by chance did I bite a rope and hung there. I was so high above the floor below. Oh if only they would only look around they would see a poor pony about to fall to her death! Entertainments everywhere; how do they hold on to who they are? Flashes of images appeared everywhere: Tavi was with some friend of hers she has yet to meet; they are talking about my eccentricites as something foolish and a kind of amusement, and talking pityingly of my position and poor behavior. My parents are looking for me in the Castle Gardens. A wave of mud. The moon smiles at me: a smile is the chosen vehicle of all ambiguities. Another cast-off mare wrote something to me I cannot read. Some lion's paw held the rope while an eagle's claw cut it and I fell. The gears ground against one another producing a deafening screech; the yellow flashes brightened and I could see nothing else.... Country Fiddle woke up to the sweet smell of breakfast. Under her blankets she was sweating and hot, but the air outside her covers was cool and refreshing. A crow cawed something outside her window. The curtains were still over the windows and the lighting in her room looked green to her. She sat up and Octavia, who was laying beside her, sprang up and hugged her big sister so tenderly it almost made Country Fiddle want to cry. "Morning sleepy head!" She sung. "Mommy and Daddy are almost done with breakfast. I helped a bit, but when I came and saw you still asleep, I crawled back into bed with you and waited for you to wake up so I could be the first to say 'morning to you." She smiled. It was hard to believe that her sweet little sister could be portayed so cold in her dreams. But Country Fiddle wasn't thinking of that; indeed, as soon as she woke up she had entirely forgotten her dreams, and was only left with a vague ominous foreboding she only wished to shake off and forget. Octavia jumped out of the bed and playfully pulled Country Fiddle up and on to her hooves. "Let's go!" She hopped over to the door and swung it open. "No need to get ready. There will be time for that later. Come on, hurry up!" She laughed as Country Fiddle walked next to her, smiling sleepily. Country Fiddle still had that morning haze about her eyes. The light flowing in from the windows in the dining room was so bright she winced. The smell of sweet blueberry pancakes pulled up her nose; all at once the bright light was not something to hide from but to run to and feel the warmth therein. "Today's your big day!" Octavia hopped forward and pulled out a chair for her big sis to take. Country Fiddle, though still very sleepy, eagerly climbed up into it. "Chuka chucka chucha chaka choooo!" Ovctavia mimiced the sounds of a train when she pushed in the chair and then laughed at her own silly sound. She was so happy for Country Fiddle she just wanted to shout it out to the world; but she couldn't quite do that, so she did all she could to show it in small little acts instead of one big one. It felt more special this way anyhow, she mused. "Tavi," Country Fiddle managed after a yawn, "I still haven't properly said good morning to you--" "How does one properly greet another in the morn? Oh look! Here comes mommy from the kitchen!" And, lo, there she was, radiant, with a full plate of delicious golden blueberry pancakes and a ornate glass jar of pure maple syrup in her field of magic. "Morning sweetie! We've made your favorite." "That's too much--" but Contry Fiddle was cut off by her father. "Good morning my dearest, outstanding Country Fiddle!" She heard him say from the kitchen. "We are all so proud of you and wanted you to have the most perfect morning to go out on...." Before we don't see much of you for two or more years, her mother left unsaid. Nothing negative, nothing negative, she repeated to herself. She set the food befoer Contry Fiddle and lovingly kissed her eldest daughter's cheek. Just at that moment her father flew into the room with a rather large and mis-shapen cupcake. "And look what Octavia has made for you!" He flew it far out in front of him, before Country Fiddle so she could get a good look. "She baked it and I did the frosting!" It was a dark chocolate cupcake. The frosting on top was arranged into a picture: Octavia and herself were in the middle, Tavi hanging onto her back, hooves around her neck; their parents were on either side of them, hugging snd holding them with one arm each. They were all smiling. They were on a very artificial grass plain, with blue sky and yellow sun. Before she knew it her family was pressed up against her and hugging her in just the same way as depicted on the cupcake. They then all kissed and said a few tender words of affection to their genius daughter, and then took their respective seats at the table. A few pancakes flew off her plate and onto the rest of her families plates. That explains the over abundance of them, Country Fiddle smiled to herself. Proceeded was the passing of the syrup, pouring of orange juice, the ping and clang of plates and glasses, and light-hearted idle chatter spotted every now and again, though rather evenly, with praise and affection directed at Country Fiddle. After breakfast Country Fiddle would leave for the castle.... Author's Note This has to be the weirdest chapter I've written yet.... And I loved writing it! It was quite hard to figure where I should cut it off. In the end, just beofer the "good-byes" seemed well enough Hope y'all are enjoying. And thankye!
