My Little Xyloto

Mylo woke to the sunrise.  It was not the muted rays of light that startled him awake, but the terrible thunk of the Alicorn.  Blinking, Mylo glanced through his window at the horn-shaped tower in the center of Heaven that channeled enough artificial magic to raise the Sun each morning.  He sighed through his snout, wondering if the fabled Princesses of old made so much noise when they brought upon the day.

Sliding out of bed and shaking off the layers of blankets he'd wrapped around himself, Mylo quickly slipped into his baggy white jumpsuit.  Twenty years of practice ensured a quick routine, but even so, he didn't have much time to spare.  Glancing at the simple clock hung beside the window, he figured he had about two minutes before he had to rush to work.  A delighted smile grew around his chattering teeth as he pushed his lightweight bedframe away from the wall, shoving one covered hoof into the hole it revealed.  He considered himself lucky to live at the very end of the hallway where the concrete wall of his tiny bedroom that doubled as the edge of the whole building was unusually thick, and happened to bear a rather large hole left over from hasty construction.  It was in this dark blemish that Mylo hid his most precious belonging.

With only ninety seconds on his mental clock, the stallion pulled his prized possession from the blessed cavity and set it on the ground, careful to keep his body between the window and the item.  Gazing upon it with reverent admiration, Mylo lowered his head to take the tiny mallet in his teeth.  Its rod was thinner than a pencil, and the ball at the end was near the size of a bit.  He held the end of the stick in his mouth, using his tongue to swing the mallet as if it was hinged at the center of his lips.  With this arrangement, he leaned over his treasure and played a little melody with a repeating rhythm.

Ding, ding, ding-ding-ding, ding, ding, ding-ding-ding, ding, ding, ding-ding-ding, ding, ding, ding-ding-ding...

He finished his song and closed his eyes, relishing in the beautiful tones that danced along the concrete walls and licked his starving eardrums.  Despite the shiver of his body, Mylo's heart was warmed by the item's pleasant chimes.

The timer in his brain went off and he carefully replaced his treasure into its cove.  Knocking his bed back into place with a swing of his hind hoof, Mylo pulled his jumpsuit's mask over his face and adjusted the clear holes in front of his eyes.  Properly protected, he scrambled out his door and galloped down the hall toward the stairs.  His hurry was merited: he didn't dare be late for work, certainly, but more importantly it was Friday... and the shaded words always appeared on a Friday.

MYLO

XYLOTO