Humble Beginnings

That same night.

I remember this night like it was yesterday. Every detail, every thought. When I finally returned home, I very quietly and very sneakily pushed my front door open, only making the tinniest of creaks and the faint sound of the bottom of the door rubbing against the hall carpet. Much to my relief, I could already hear the disgruntled snoring of my old man upstairs so I felt I could come out of stealth mode for now. I was in the clear. Only one thing was on my mind. Water.

I trotted into the kitchen and poured a large glass of water for myself and guzzled it down, the clear liquid flowing over the sides of the cup around my mouth and spilling onto the floor with a gentle trickle. I swear, more went on the floor than in my mouth, this young Pony was truly uncouth; it was unacceptable, as her mother would have said.

I remember pausing at that thought and looking down at the puddle that was spreading around my front hooves. Hurriedly, I grabbed the nearest tea towel and began pressing the fabric into the cold mess on the floor. "Sorry Mum," I would whisper as I soon began to imagine her response, Don't use the bloody tea towel Vinyl! We have- Vinyl stop! We have kitchen roll, use the kitchen roll! Oh, what am I going to do with you? I giggled at the thought and my Mum's overly tight-arsed ways.

My small family kept a spacious, well kept, four-bedroom house near the far end of Canterlot. It was quite roomy for only two current residents, what since my dearest mother's passing and my older, loving brother moving out to go to Manehatten University. I was very happy living with my Dad, he was hard working, kind and he had a buckin' moustache. That was all I really thought when it came to my Father. Needless to say, he bored me considerably. He didn't really drink or watch sports; he just kind of kept to himself and did various DIY jobs around the house to keep himself occupied. He was getting on in years but, truthfully, at that point in my life, I couldn't think of anyone I would rather live with. He did something in banking or something or other but I never really cared or paid much attention. If it involved numbers, I thought, screw it. That won't get me on a stage performing to a crowd. Just one of the many ignorant thoughts which plagued my young mind. How wrong I was.

With that sudden revelation however, I remembered what I had wanted to do the moment I got home! I dashed out the kitchen, scurried through the hall and sprinted up the main stairs to my small room. And then... FREEZE. I remember freezing in place, becoming very aware of the noise my tough hooves were making against the hard, wooden stairs of the house, creating a clip-clopping that echoed violently through the house. Damn acoustics. My breathing became shallow. This was it. This was the end. I'd wanted to do so much. I was too young! It wasn't my time! I closed my eyes and drew a desperate cross across my chest with my hoof as I waited for the vile manticore of a pony that was my father’s wrath to fall upon me. Five seconds past. I squinted one eye open, eyeing my Dad's bedroom door. Ten seconds. He's probably just getting out of bed and grabbing the cricket bat. Fifteen seconds. The loudest, most vile snort of a snore erupted from the confines of my Dad's bedroom, much to the relief of our young pony-friend. I gave a sigh of relief, thanked Celestia and Luna and very quietly tiptoed to my room. Moments later, I was home free! Again, quietly, I opened the door and closed it, quiet as a mouse and flicked the light switch upwards, allowing light to flood my bedroom.

Oh my, oh my, Vinyl, you should be ashamed. That room was always an absolute tip. Upon inspection, it was unclear if I actually owned a bin, there were so many chocolate bar wrappers and pizza boxes littered across the floor it looked like an poverty stricken slum, all that seemed to be missing were the damp patches and the used heroin syringes. But again, I had no care for that sort of thing. I was a good filly. Mostly. The mess would not stop me from my mission though.

I dodged through the wreckage of my room and headed straight over to my computer, where it sat upon an equally filthy desk, already booted up from my recent teenage shenanigans, namely poking that high class, stuck up bitch Octavia on a particular social networking site. I shudder to this day simply thinking about her. Her entire essence screamed order, structure and she was so damn condescending. She was only popular back then because her family was so wealthy. Urgh. Totally not a cool pony in any regard.

To the interwebs! I remember proceeding to ask the (sometimes) reliable search engines how I should go about making electronic music. A few forums and websites later I settled on fairly simple looking piece of music software to begin my booming musical career, software which I now realise is the epitome of awful, but I shan't get into technical details or name any names lest I find myself being sued. I shuddered with excitement as the torrent began downloading, slowly but surely, onto my train-wreck of a computer.

This was it. She kept glancing down at her flank in the foolish hopes that by some miracle she would get her music making cutie-mark in advance, the universe having decided that this was, absolutely, what she most certainly was supposed to dedicate her life to. Unfortunately to no avail, but she remained unfazed. Her grin went from ear to ear, her deep red eyes lit up in excitement.

Two dragging hours and a couple of my favourite albums later I squee'd with delight as my computer made the unmistakable sound of a file being fully downloaded. I struggle to remember exactly what albums I listened to unfortunately, that one memory seems to elude me. Although I can't help but feel that one of them may have been the glorious album, 'With The Pegasus Over The Sea.' A truly awesome album and I suggest anyone reading this should go listen to it and pray to Celestia I do not meet any legal ramifications from mentioning it in this story.

Twenty minutes and half an album later, I would squee with delight a second time as I finally installed the (illegal, but don’t tell anyone) software packages and booted up the program. I grabbed the small midi keyboard that I "borrowed" from her high-school's music department and hurriedly plugged it into one of the USB ports located at the side of her box shaped computer.

If I disappear for a few years after this story reaches the public, it will almost certainly be because the law has caught up with me for my crimes, even if I held them with all good intentions.

I was practically jumping in my seat. I could already hear the awesome, spellbinding, floor-mashing track that I was about to create. The build-ups, the melodies... The drops. It was all there, ready for me to do with as I pleased. I was going to be the best DJ Equestria had ever seen! Mark my words, it will happen! Celestia and Luna be my witnesses! High School be damned! Science and maths can suck it! This was all I needed, a partly broken keyboard and... I paused as the software stretched across my screen. And... And. This… Program. Huh.

I took my mouse in my hoof and began clicking around... cautiously. So... wait. How?

I shook my head in confusion. So where should I start? Where do I start? I very carefully pressed one of the white keys on my 49 keyed keyboard and hoped for the best. No sound. No wobbling bass or humming melody.

Thirty minutes and a couple more websites later I discovered a new word. Synthesisers. It all seemed so straight forwards now! A few clicks and I would be good to go! A synthesiser popped up on the screen and, for a third time, I squee'd. Now I could begin! Our young DJ on her first musical endeavour! This was exciting! I'm practically bouncing in my seat as I write this!

Once more, I took my hoof to the keyboard. Buuuuuuuzz. A low, droning note hit me with force and filled the room, fortunately not loud enough to wake the sleeping lion. But if I was to create some bad-ass, floor mashing, roof shaking beats I would need it to be loud, loud, LOUD. How naive I truly was, but my thoughts held some wisdom. I reached across my desk and grabbed my small bud headphones and popped the mini jack into the headphone port, inserting the small devices into each of my ears. Celestia, those headphones were dreadful. Again, I pressed the note and, for a fourth time, squee'd as the musical note reached my ear drums, much similar to the way all my music I had ever loved would reach me. Here we go! It's time! Let us see what our young pony can do. To anyone not me, all that could be heard that night was the gentle tapping of little hooves on the keyboard and the faint humming of the sick sounds and beats I was creating from my computer as I worked all through the night, the soft white glow of her computer monitor against her fur fading as Luna's moon fell and Celestia's sun rose and shone in through the window.