Vinyl Scratch frowned as she once again peered out the carriage window. Street after street, the scene was much the same. Shattered glass barely clung to the panes in abandoned hovels, their stoops and steps crumbling. Gutters were plugged with the liquor bottles, candy wrappers, and other refuse of city life. Young fillies and colts, many of them appearing too skinny to be healthy, roamed pointlessly on the sidewalks as their parents slept or searched for their next high.
Was it always this bad? Vinyl Scratch wondered as she pulled away from the window. She rubbed her forehead with a hoof. I guess it was the main reason I left, the mare thought.
But Vinyl Scratch had returned to Manehattan, at least for the day. Although she had been residing in Ponyville for several years now, a slight twinge of homesickness always hung over her. For despite all its problems, Manehattan was where she grew up, and the fond memories far outweighed the bad. She recalled the sweltering summer days spent in the crowded public pool, and could almost taste the pizza from Big Daddy's. The mare smiled. Sometimes the city felt like where she really belonged.
But the swimming pool was not open for the season, and although she did love pizza, it was not Vinyl's goal for the day. She had a far more important place to visit, her memories of it clearer than any others of her foalhood in the city.
A white filly with a shaggy mane and tail colored two shades of blue balanced on her hind legs to open the door, her front hooves barely reaching the silver handle. The bell hanging above dinged as she pushed on the handle and rushed in.
"Hey, I was wondering when you'd be around again!'' called a stallion from behind the counter.
''I haven't had any allowance for the past few weeks,'' replied the young Vinyl Scratch as she sped to the racks of CDs and cassettes.
''And what kind of parents would withhold allowance from their darling daughter?'' the clerk asked playfully.
''I've, um, been in some trouble,'' said Vinyl in a quieter tone.
The clerk shook his head with a slight grin. He shouldn't have expected much more from the mischievious filly who frequented his shop.
Sapphire Records was definitely the youngster's most-treasured place. While her friends spent their allowances at the toy store or sweet shop, Vinyl Scratch spent many Friday afternoons browsing through the shelves of used albums she could afford. Some of the songs on them she knew and liked and thus purchased, while others caught her eye by their covers. Chances were, however, that each album she acquired quickly became a new favorite.
A few minutes later the filly came to the counter, bearing three cassettes thanks to a 50%-off sale. ''My goodness, Vinyl,'' chuckled the clerk. "You're going to have so much music soon you could become a regular DJ!'' Vinyl's eyes grew a bit brighter. She didn't think it was a bad aspiration for herself. The stallion handed the filly her bagged purchases, and she left for the door. But the clerk noticed something about this customer he hadn't seen before. ''Hey, what's that?'' he inquired.
''What's what?'' Vinyl mumbled with the shopping bag in her mouth. But before the other pony could respond, she caught sight of her flank.
It was now emblazoned with a musical-note cutie mark.
Vinyl Scratch's nostalgic daydream ended just as the carriage arrived at its destination. It had barely stopped when she excitedly threw open the door. But what she encountered did not match the happy memory she had just relived.
The storefront was completely dark; on this overcast day, not even the sun brightened it. A large sign reading Going Out of Business Sale hung lopsidedly from a single suction cup in the window, its former red color faded to almost orange. Vinyl glanced up. The building still said Sapphire Records, but Sapphire Records was not here.
Her mind drawing a blank, Vinyl pressed her nose against the door she once had barely been tall enough to reach. Inside, a few empty racks were lined against the wall. She looked over at the counter. Fliers advertising local bands were no longer taped to its ledge. No friendly clerk tended the cash register. There was no register anymore.
The mare backed away, almost falling off the single step leading to the door. She didn't know what to think. Her mind seemed as fractured as the slum windows from a few minutes before.
As she paced in front of the deserted storefront, a vague foalhood memory came to the confused pony. She remembered a song she heard played inside the shop years ago. She couldn't recall much, but the chorus was clear.
Ch-ch-changes...
Vinyl remembered she liked the song. For a second she wondered why she hadn't bought the album.
The DJ had certainly been through some changes. She had gone from a middle-class city filly oblivious to the poverty around her to a semi-celebrity in the more comfortable surroundings of Ponyville. And as she stared one last time into the windows of her foalhood haunt, her memories, which were so grand even as an adult, began to seem like nothing more than regular life. The music-filled building where she received her cutie mark, which once felt so magical, was just a little record shop. The public pool was nothing but a communal bathtub, its sun-heated water providing no real escape from the dog-day weather. And Big Daddy's was no different from any of the pizza places in Ponyville.
Ch-ch-changes... The lyrics played again in Vinyl's mind. Things had changed, and she could not deny it.
The mare finally returned to the waiting carriage. "Where to, ma'am?'' asked the stallion who was pulling it.
''To the train station,'' Vinyl replied as she sank into the seat. To home.
