The Little Piper: Chapter 3

>The dinner table was quiet as usual as the three of you eat your meals consisting of magically enhanced vegetable slabs, which the ponies referred to as “fake meat”, poached potatoes, and a mound of steaming hot broccoli.

>Clef continues to pick at the veggies, having already eaten the rest of his meal, not wanting to ingest the horrid, miniature green bushes.

>He looks up from his plate at the empty spot across from him occasionally where a plate of food waits patiently.

>“Where’s Treble?” he asks, breaking the silence.

>Octavia wipes her muzzle clean from the food and sets her fork down.

>To this day, you still wonder how she lifts the damn thing with her hoof, but then again, you still wonder how the hell this world existed to begin with.

>“Your sister is at her tutor’s. She’s been having trouble with her math work and asked if she could have someone help her.”

>A chill runs down your spine as you think about the tutor.

>Twist was nice and all, but she was... strange, to say the least.

>The front door coincidentally slams shut as the conversation ends, bringing a sudden silence to the table.

>Treble, Clef’s twin sister, walks into the room and places her backpack over the backrest of the chair before sitting down.

>“My apologies for coming home so late. I was having difficulties with solving some algebraic problems, so Twist insisted that I stay there until I fully understood it.”

>Clef rolls his eyes, biting into the head of a piece of broccoli before letting out a distasteful groan.

>Octavia throws him a glare before turning back to her daughter.

>“As long as you’re keeping up with your studies, we won’t pay any mind to it,” she assures, glancing over to you.

>You swallow down the piece of ‘steak’ in your mouth and nod your head in agreement, mind a flutter to the current situation.

>Treble was able to take care of herself: she was responsible, neat, and organized.

>Clef, however... wasn’t.

>You turn your head to the boy who now sits there, picking his nose with the opposing end of his fork.

>Smacking your hand against the table, you spook him into stopping.

>He looks over at you with a guilty grin, acting as if he didn’t know what he was doing.

>“So, Clef, what did you do today?” Treble asks, a bit of mockery in her voice.

>Clef looks up from his empty plate, his grin still in place.

>“I found my instrument today, actually.”

>Treble raises an eyebrow, not sure whether he was telling the truth or not.

>She glances over at you, looking for any sign of confirmation to Clef’s statement.

>You merely shrug and continue take a swig from you mug of cider.

>“I got a concert flute and father said he’d teach me how to play it!” he gloats, crossing his arms victoriously.

>Treble rolls her eyes and emits a very bored sigh.

“Just like your mother,” you mutter under your breath.

>Octavia’s ears perk up as she shoots another glare in your direction.

>You put on a cheesy smile and place all your utensils on top of your plate.

>Pushing your seat back, you grab your plate and head into the kitchen with Clef hot on your trail.

>He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

>Placing the plate in the sink, you pat him on the head and point towards the stairs.

“Go upstairs and get your flute ready. I’ll be up in a moment.”

>Clef sprints off into the foyer and up the stairs before you begin washing the dishes.

>Treble enters the kitchen with a look of disappointment across her face as you extend out your arm to grab her dish.

>“How come you never took the time to teach me how to play my instrument, father?” she says with a puppy dog-like expression.

>You can’t help but feel a little disheartened by her look, but it wasn't going to work on you: her mother has used that trick so much that it doesn't even so much as scathe you.

“You know as well as I do that I know nothing about violins. Your mother is the one that you have to go for that.”

>Her lips curl into a pout as she crosses her arms, angry that she can’t have her way.

>Turning to her with a deadpan look, you shake your head and sigh.

“How about I make it up to you instead? We’ll go get some ice cream tomorrow, just you and me.”

>“Okay...” she mutters, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek before striding out of the room.

>Octavia walks in and wraps her forelegs around your waist, nuzzling your back as you continue washing the dishes.

>“You know, you spoil those two way too much,” she jokes.

>Drying the last dish, you turn around lean down to kiss your wife.

“Well, that’s because you spoil me too much. It spreads like a wild disease.”

>She rolls her eyes and walks away as you dry your hands and mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to experience.

>Grabbing the metronome from the table in the foyer, you take a deep breath and head up the stairs.

>The sound of hooves scurrying bounce throughout the hallway as you approach your son’s bedroom.

>He sits at the end of his bed, hold the flute in his hands as you open the door.

“Alright, are you ready?” you ask, taking his desk chair and sitting across from him.

>He nods his head violently, barely able to contain his excitement as he lifts the flute to his face.

“I know you’re excited, but we have to do a few exercises before you can play.”

>His smile quickly fades as he looks down at the flute.

>Placing your hand on his shoulder, you give him a smile.

“A long time ago, I had to play a piece for my band director. I played every note perfectly. But, I still flunked.”

>Clef looks up at you with a confused gaze.

>“That doesn’t make sense, father! How could you fail if you did it right?” he blurts.

>You chuckle and take a deep breath.

“That’s the thing, Clef. I didn’t do it right.”

>He looks up at you completely bewildered.

“I was breathing in between each note. The one mistake most novices pull. I want you to learn from my mistakes.”

>Placing the metronome down on his desk, you set it to sixty beat per minute and turn back to Clef.

“Stand up,” you command.

>The young boy rises from his bed as you straighten his back.

“Now what we’re going to do is inhale for four beats, hold it for four beats, then exhale for four beats. Ready?”

>Clef nods, waiting for your signal.

>You raise your hand and take a deep breath, Clef following in suit.

>As the fourth beat clicks, you lower your hand and hold your breath.

>Clef puffs his cheeks, his face turning a bit red.

>Four clicks and you lift your hand once more, letting out the held air from your lungs.

>Clef does so as well, grabbing his head with his free hand.

>“Woah!” he exclaims, wobbling a bit.

>You place a hand on his shoulder to ensure he doesn’t fall over.

“See? This is why we practice. You exhaled too hard and now you’re dizzy, right?”

>Clef nods, his cheeks still rosy from either the breathing exercise or the embarrassment.

>“Let’s do it again, but properly this time."

>After about a half hour of breathing exercises, Clef lifts his flute to his lips and gives you a look that would bring a puppy to its knees.

>“Now can we play?” he begs.

>Grabbing your saxophone, you nod.

“Sure. We’re going to do scales to get you used to it, alright?”

>A smile cracks across his face as he takes a deep breath.

>He’s quickly shut off as you place your hand over it to prevent him from progressing.

“First off, you don’t put your mouth against the piece, you press it against your chin and blow into it.”

>You position the flute over his chin, making sure the hole is centered with his lips.

>Placing your hand over the end of the flute, you signal him to blow.

>He does so, emitting a low tone throughout the room. Clef’s smile widens as he realizes that he’s played his first note.

“Good job!” you say, patting him on the back. “Now we’ll move onto scales.”

>After an hour or so of practice, Clef takes a seat back on his bed, looking over his flute.

>You know that look from anywhere: the look of eagerness.

>He wants to play the flute and play it now. No practice, no exercises; just play.

>Grabbing your sax, you press the mouthpiece against your lips and take a deep breath.

>The plastic piece presses against your tongue, the taste bringing back memories of sitting down in the busy streets of Manehatten, playing for total strange with the sole intention of bring entertainment to others.

>Your fingers begin to move on their own as you blow into the head.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFU9uIFRJJI

>Clef watches in awe as his father’s instrument erupts into a beautiful melody.

>His head begins to bob back and forth in rhythm with the music.

>After you finish the song, you lower the instrument as Clef applauds you.

>You take a bow and chuckle.

>“That was amazing, father!” he says, jumping to his feet. “I can’t wait to play as good as you!”

“You will with practice and patience. As long as you do as I tell you, you’ll be fine.”

>Clef wraps his arms around your stomach and embraces you in a tight hug.

>You pat him on the head and look at the clock. It was already nine o'clock.

“Alright, now, just be sure to do your breathing exercises and practice your scales. For now, you need to get to bed.”

>He pouts before you give him a stern glare.

>Almost instantly, he bows his head and goes to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.

>Walking into your bedroom, Octavia looks up from her book and beams.

>“So? How was practice?” she asks, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

>You roll your eyes as you change into your nightwear and climb into the bed with her.

“He’s got the potential, but he’s much too impatient.”

>“Much like his father,” Octavia jokes.

>You shake your head and giggle.

>“Oh, by the way, we’re going to visit my cousin tomorrow. So be ready.”

>Your stomach ties up into a knot.

>If there was anything you despised, it was being in the presence of her cousin.

“Do WE have to? You know me and her don’t get along.”

>Octavia gives you one of her motherly, ‘don’t make me say it again’ glares and returns her attention back to her read.

>Giving off a groan, you roll over and cover yourself with the sheets.

>A leg reaches over your torso and wraps around you.

>“Just do me this favor and I’ll make it up to you.”

>You can feel Octavia breath against your neck, send a chill down your spine.

“How so?” you mutter, knowing where this was going.

>She reaches over you before turning out the light.

>“I’ll think of something,” she whispers into your ear.

>Looks like those breathing exercises from earlier were going to be put to use.