The Rocking Horse

In the outskirts of Ponyville sits a grey mare, resting on a small seat underneath the dim glow of the moon. Her eyes are closed, concealing a pair of elegant purple irises that lavish with pride and beauty. Her dark, ebony mane is nothing more but a silhouette, fixed to the color of the darkness around her. Her features were sharp which showed she was far from young – yet, she was not old enough to be considered an elder. In her hooves rests a large instrument, commonly mistaken for an inflated violin. In a sense it is true. But to a musician – to a skilled artist – it is referred to as a cello, and it is wise that nopony tell them otherwise.

She sits in silence, the sound of nothingness shrouding her environment while the sounds of voices whisper in her earlobes. She lets her eyes flinch every so often as a certain voice speaks to her with a tone of stubbornness, immaturity, and pride. Despite these negative attributes though, the mare finds passion in its tone – a passion that could not be taken from anypony.

It was Stubborn, yes, but that was because the voice was that of a fighter’s, who never let her dreams waver or hinder.

It was Immature, yes, but that was because the voice was that of a liberal, who loved life and all those in it.

It was Prideful, yes, but that was because it was the voice of a survivor, who accomplished her dreams despite her somber past.

It was a voice that held true character and the musician respected it.

The voice continued to speak to the mare, throwing taunts, tossing remarks, and laughing full heartedly. To somepony it would have brought frustration. To others it would have brought happiness. But to her, it brought sorrow. It brought her pain and grievance. It loosened the wall she encased herself in within a day – the wall she always tore down in the dead of night. Everypony was asleep and not a single living being stirred in the presence of the moon.

It was here, at this place and time, that Octavia relieved the pain that dwelled within her every day and every night.

A light breeze rolls in from the left side of the mare, brushing her mane and fragments of leaves in its direction but she pays it no heed. Her mind is trapped in her memories, replaying the fragments of her life she would give anything to live once again.

The image of a white coated unicorn flashes before her mind, displaying a charismatic smile and swaying her large jagged mane. The unicorn continues to run back in forth before the eyes of the mare, who has now placed herself into the seat of that memory. She shows signs of happiness and joy – a notion no other pony could have done the same.

To Octavia, no pony could replace the bond she held with Vinyl Scratch, the mare who disappeared so long ago, leaving not a single trace in her absence.

And to pay her respects for the dear friend she lost – the friend she loved – she isolated herself in the presence of darkness every night, gripping onto her cello tightly. She has done so for every moon, resting in silence while ponies slept comfortably, free from pain and suffering. She has done so ever since the proclamation that her friend was truly gone, taken from the realm of the living.

Octavia did not believe such things though. There was never evidence of murder. There was never a sign of violence. There was never a body. So as long as those three remained unresolved, she held hope, believing her friend was indeed alive.

As comforting as the fact was though, it pained the mare to believe Vinyl was alive. Doubt ensued from the pain because Octavia knew Vinyl would not abandon her friends without uttering a word. She would not run away from her issues for she was a fighter.

But Vinyl, Octavia knew, changed. The mare she once knew soon began to shift her image when fame struck her life. When the infamous DJ soon grew bright in the starlight, the aspects of nobility and liveliness soon began to hinder away from the overbearing feelings of pride and arrogance. She became another victim of unavoidable pony antics – she became the very thing she despised.

Octavia stood by the mare every single step of the way, despite the horrible alterations occurring to her friend. She stood by her side, ignoring the signs of drug abuse, ignoring the presence of devious colts, and ignoring the evils slowly consuming her friend piece by piece. She only believed she was allowing her friend to live her life, to enjoy the good things in life.

She knew she was lying to herself. In truth, she wished she could go back and pull Vinyl away from every single sin that wished to submit her to her knees. But it was too late.

Now, because Octavia knew she failed her friend, Vinyl was gone. Whether in death or name, she was gone from the cellist’s life, never to return again.

In nights like these, Octavia always condemned herself for her failures – the moments where she failed to save her friend from damnation. She would remain silent, gripping her instrument tightly as tears streamed down her cheeks, each drop sparkling in the glow of the moon as they descended to the fragments of the earth beneath her.

Due to her failures as a friend, she wept. Because she failed to stop the world from hurting her friend, she wept. In memory of her friend, she wept.

Tonight, with her head hung low, she wept.

“Vinyl” she muttered softly, with tears descending out of her closed eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of this to happen…I just wanted to keep you happy. That’s all I ever wanted…I just wanted you to have the life you always wanted….but I never knew it would end like this…I never knew it would be so…so…”

By then Octavia’s voice began to crack and she could no longer refrain from concealing her emotions. Her sobs turned into cries as she leaned her head against her instrument, turning slowly from side to side as if to shake off this horrible feeling of loss –as if to awake from a long terrifying nightmare.

Her cries were loud, fueled by a broken spirit. Had she been any closer to Ponyville she may have woken its inhabitants. But Octavia did not care. She did not care whether they heard her shouts of remorse or her cries of agony. She only wanted to see her friend Vinyl again. That’s all she ever wanted and she would give anything to see her once again.

Many would question the mare’s love for the unicorn. Some have even mistaken it for filly-fooling, which nopony ever argued against, but Octavia always found such theories repulsive. The love she had for Vinyl was not an act of lust nor was it of impulse. It was the kind of love conceived from family – the love of a being who has been there for you in your deepest times and vice versa. Vinyl was like a sister to the mare, despite their genetic barrier. She was the mare she grew up with and the mare she would depart with. Sadly, Vinyl left Octavia before she even got to say a proper farewell.

Sniffling, Octavia soon regained her posture, taking in deep breaths as she began to finally align the cello in her hooves. She slowly moved it into a linear manner, sticking it upwards as she examined the strings of the large instrument which reached to the top of her head. Each string glimmered in the bright glow, reflecting a metallic rainbow amongst the bridge of the cello.

It was time to enact a ritual devised by Octavia. A ritual used to honor her friend who she still believed was out there, lost, afraid, and alone. It worried Octavia, leaving her hollow and afraid as well, but for some reason, she believed if she played her music in dedication of the unicorn it will grant her the strength to move on – both Octavia and Vinyl Scratch.

Octavia was not a mare of superstition but she was a mare of faith so she believed playing would grant some sort of peace to both her and her companion.

Taking one long sigh, Octavia finally opened her eyes, revealing a pair of bright purple eyes that glared with pride and eloquence. The angle in her eyes made her a first pick of most stallions but she was never willing to allow such things into her mind or heart. She wished for only peace and serenity and nothing else. Something she only gained from playing the cello, her one true love.

Glaring upward at the moon, Octavia’s mouth quivered slightly as she let words slip out of her throat.

“By the goddesses” she prayed, glaring up at the large moon up above in the horizon that overwhelmed the night, “Please bring Vinyl back safe and sound. Please make sure she is alive somewhere, safe and sound. Give her the strength to keep going, to come back home”

Octavia’s lip began to quiver a little more violently as her eyes began to water up. She always prayed to the goddesses, hoping they’d hear her pleas but to no avail, she has not had a single one answered. To keep her faith though, Octavia continued to pray, hoping for the best – no matter how desperate it seemed.

“Please watch over her and provide her with a guardian, a knight. Give her an angel to protect her and keep her safe. One that would keep her warm, one that would keep her full, one that would keep her happy…”

Octavia knew that angels and such things were enigmas of the mind but she did not care. She decided to allow such things slip into her mind, hoping that if they are truly real, they would help aid her in her prayers.

“Please Luna…Please Celestia…” she continued, glancing down at her cello, “Bless Vinyl Scratch with an angel…and bring her back home…please…”

With her final wish, the mare ended her prayer, kissing the bottom of her hoof and holding it up to the sky as an offer. Hoping the rulers of light and night heed her pleas, she turned away from the sky glancing down at the instrument that would demonstrate the combination of pain and love within a poor soul.

Without another word, Octavia closed her eyes and let her emotions instruct her hooves, causing them to majestically move around the cello in a slow rhythmic manner that evoked a beautiful essence of noise throughout the night.

Octavia allows her mind to slip into serenity, trying to cope with the emotion fueling her talent as it creates melodic notes throughout the air – much similar to another musician.

You see, there was once a legend told by musicians, one said to be from around the creation of music.

It was a tale told from the perspective of life from before; from a time when war and chaos ravaged the lands of Equestria; from the time before the rule of Princess Celestia and the tyranny of Nightmare Moon.

It was a tale that spoke of a musician, one that mastered in the cello. He demonstrated a kind heart to all ponies despite the madness occurring around him. His warm smile always kept ponies happy and retained the innocence in foals.

One day, when instructing his companions to fetch food for their starving bodies he stood perched upon a tall building, waiting for their return. It never happened.

Upon reaching the bakery a devastating magical spell decimated the entire region around the building. The musician was tossed aside from the explosion, dazing him momentarily and overall preventing him from seeing the destruction below. As time passed his vision soon began to return, allowing him to intake the horrifying scene before him. The remains of each and every single one of his friends scattered about, each limb scorched from the bright hued flames released from the magic.

It tore the musician in two, rendering him lost and alone. He blamed himself for their deaths and that only tore him in two. It left him to question who was responsible for his deaths and what he had done.

In the days that followed, more magical spells began to set off around him, decimating streets and houses. But the musician’s world was already destroyed. Everything he ever cared about and loved was gone. Now he was but a hollow shell, lacking the will to live. The only thing keeping him alive, was the urge to avenge his friends’ deaths – all 22 of them. Not through violence though. No, he wished to avenge them through the only way he possibly could.

Exiting the structure he isolated himself in, the musician went into the outside world, which was still being decimated by fear and terror. Carrying with him only his cello, the stallion played in the middle of the street – in the exact same spot the bomb went off. Ash littered the streets and fragments of dust enveloped the region, leaving nothing but a smoke created fog to envelop the city.

But legend tells of the musician’s silhouette standing out amongst the ash as a beautiful emission of chords ascended from his cello. Ponies were shocked as the stallion played on around the destruction as if he was living in tranquility. That was not the case.

The musician played a song for each of his companions. Each song was dedicated to the deceased, to mourn their deaths and in hopes to rest their souls that have been tarnished by the destructive antics of a pony. The musician played one song each day, dedicating that song to each member of the deceased.

With no food or water, the stallion continued to play throughout the bloody feud, having close encounters with death due to debris and explosions. Still, he would not bow. He gave it all he got, playing each song for the ones he loved and cherished until the final day, the 22nd victim.

Upon that day, with no sleep, no food, and no energy, the musician was dying. His body was physically giving way, breaking down slowly as it failed to keep up with his spirit. Even then, he failed to give up.

With the last of his energy, the musician played the cello as best he could, dedicating that final song to the youngest filly of the group that was killed in the blast. It was said that he struggled to breath and move, but even then the noise conveyed from the cello was still as extravagant as the first day. When he finished his song, it is said that he let out a loud painful cry, as tears poured out of his eyes before he finally fell limp, crashing down to the scorched floor beneath him.  To this day, nopony knows why he let out that cry. Some believe it was because he was dying and he knew his end was coming; others say it was because of the violence and horror occurring around him.

Octavia, the mare who grew inspired by the pony’s motives, believed he cried because he lost those he truly loved. She believed that the world from then was not so different from her world now; she believed that he cried because he lost ponies who were dear to him – ponies that were true in heart. And Octavia felt no different from that.

She felt like that musician. She felt lost and alone, forced to live with the guilt of her long lost friend.

So to mourn her absence, Octavia did what the musician did long ago: she played a song to mourn for the loss of her companion. Although the two pony’s stories differ in comparison, Octavia felt it would be honorable to dedicate a song that gave the feeling of hope and tranquility, despite the darkness around her.

And she has done that every single night for sixteen years – ever since Vinyl Scratch disappeared.