- >As she trotted on stage, taking in the pulsating lights and the familiar aroma of the night club scene, she felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline fill her body.
- >She loved what she did, bringing music to the p0ny population.
- >She looked down at the crowd, the mass of undulating bodies moving to and fro, a sea of neon colours like the strobe lights above.
- >She approached her rig, and hovered over a specific vinyl record.
- >Gently placing it on the table, she smiled at the crowd, let out a raucous cheer, and let the music begin.
- >Often times she had to admit, she found herself lost in the performance.
- >The heavy bass, and thumping of the music soothed her soul in ways she could never experience in a normal life.
- >But something was missing.
- >Something was always missing.
- >Shaking her head, she gets back into the groove of the song, the changing pace and constant shifts keeping her going.
- >Much like the past few years of your life.
- >Her popularity soared over the years, and soon enough, she was playing at different locals all over Equestria, and even beyond.
- >She glances at the crowd, scanning the faces of the club-goers.
- >Everything is normal, until she spots a strange individual.
- >It’s the human that was rumoured to live in these parts.
- >But he’s does not seem to be enjoying himself.
- >He just stands to the side, his body pressed against the wall.
- >He’s wearing dark shades, just like you.
- >It looks like he’s not very impressed by your performance.
- >You kick the music up a notch, breaking out the good stuff.
- >The crowd goes wild as you work your art.
- >The flashing lights paint the sea of p0nies all different hues.
- >You lose yourself in the music, and you enter that familiar feeling of euphoria, when it’s just you and the music.
- >The crowd slowly begins to fade away from your vision, just leaving him.
- >You focus entirely on your craft, and the strange unmoving creature.
- >He seems like he refuses to partake in the party at all.
- >The song ends, your performance as well.
- >The crowd cheers, their screams of delight overwhelm any sound you could ever produce.
- >You head off stage, as the club begins to shut down for the night, heading to your dressing room.
- >The club manager stops you on the way out, to congratulate you on another brilliant performance.
- >You’re playing here for a few more days, and then heading off to Canterlot to play a few more gigs.
- >You enter your dressing room, and find a single rose in a vase waiting, a small note attached.
- >It reads: “Loved the performance, made me feel alive. I’ll be back tomorrow for the encore.” Anonymous.
- >You’ve received letters like these before, but never an Anonymous one.
- >Who could it have been?
- >You don’t really care at the moment.
- >Your adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel the post-show crash approaching.
- >You settle down into the armchair you always take with you on the road, which is everywhere.
- >The only remnant of the time you once tried to settle down.
- >It was both a memento of friend, and a reminder of what never came about.
- >You cozy up inside it, pulling a blanket over yourself.
- >The only warm touch you’ve had in a long time.
- >A few days later...
- >This is the final performance of this tour.
- >After this, you move on to Canterlot, then who knows where.
- >You go where the music and your image go.
- >Always on the move.
- >That stupid note and vase kept re-appearing in your dressing room after every performance now.
- >It was starting to freak you out.
- >Either this p0ny had a serious obsession with you, or you don’t know what.
- >That human was in the crowd again tonight, still unmoving and unwavering.
- >He was in the same spot again.
- >What was his problem?
- >Did he think he could show you up by standing there and looking unimpressed?
- >Tonight, you’d give him a show he’d never forget.
- >You kicked up the bass, let it drop, got the music flowing like you haven’t in years.
- >You felt like the note said.
- >Truly alive.
- >The volume of your music shook the very fibre of your being.
- >The crowd was going wild.
- >In the end, he still stood there.
- >Stoic and unwavering like a statue.
- >You can’t get to this creature.
- >Just like no one could ever get to you.
- >You tried everything in your musical arsenal, but he remained like a mountain in the face of the howling winds.
- >You had no idea why you couldn’t get to him, or why it irked you so.
- >Time’s up.
- >Your performance ends.
- >Crowd cheers, but you’re not feeling it.
- >Maybe you should take a break.
- >You head off stage, and head back to your dressing room.
- >”HEY, Vinyl, baby, that was a heck of a performance tonight! You played like a p0ny possessed!”
- “What do you want Scoots?” you with a sigh, the adrenaline wearing off quickly tonight.
- >”Remember that contest for a fan to meet you? Yeah, that’s tonight. He’s waiting outside your dressing room.”
- >You face-hoof.
- >That WAS tonight.
- >”Say, hello, shake his hoof, and get this over with. We leave early and I don’t want my favourite DJ tired for the trip.” He says with his trademark sleazy grin.
- >Despite his exterior and personality, deep down Scoots cared.
- >At least, you think he did.
- >There were those allegations that one time...
- >But that’s in the past.
- >You head on over to your dressing room.
- >Outside is the human.
- >Are you SERIOUS?
- >Maybe you can finally figure out what was his problem.
- >He waves as he sees you coming.
- >What a pompous jerk.
- “Hey, congratulations on winning that contest! So, here I am.”
- >He says nothing, but produces a single rose from behind his back.
- >He kneels down and hands it to you.
- >So...
- >He was the Anonymous admirer?
- “I don’t get it. Every night you were here, but you never got into the music.”
- >It looks like he tenses up a bit, and manages to say in an awkward voice “I love your music, I’m just not much of a dancer.”
- “But the whole time, you were stone faced,” your anger was beginning to rise “is this some kind of elaborate joke?”
- >He tenses again, “No, not at all. I just need to focus to feel the music.”
- >Feel the music?
- “What, was it not loud enough for you?!” you yell.
- >Why were you so furious at him?
- >He takes off his glasses and points to his ear, “No, I can’t hear anything.”
- “What?”
- >”I’m deaf. Have been for around 15 years.”
- >What in the name of blueberry buck muffins?
- “So, all this time...”
- >”Yep, I couldn’t hear a thing, but I COULD feel the music through the walls, and through the floor. That’s why I stood so still.”
- “Then how are we talking right now?”
- >”I learned how to read lips, and it’s also why my voice sounds so weird. I can’t hear it myself.”
- >Now you feel horrible.
- “But, why? Why even come to a concert you can’t hear?”
- >”But I can hear. I can hear the music through the vibrations. Your music is the only one loud enough to make me feel like I can hear anything.”
- >It all made sense now.
- >”Your music speaks volumes to me, and your performances are the best around. It’s a shame more p0nies cannot see the effort you put into mixing. The minor rises and falls of the song, and the fervent changes all made in the blink of an eye.”
- “You’re the first p0n-person, to ever notice... “
- >”Well, I hope I won’t be the last. I should let you go, I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for the performance again.”
- “You’re leaving already?”
- >”Yeah, I have to leave for Canterlot if I want to catch your next show.” He says, walking away.
- >You can feel yourself almost tearing up.
- >He was the only one who ever seemed to feel the same way about music that you did.
- >The only other creature to feel the music, not just hear it.
- >But to understand and embrace it.
- >You run back out the door, and chase after him.
- >Just as you get outside, you can spot him walking along.
- >But before you can reach him, you’re swarmed by the fans leaving the club.
- >You can slowly see him start to fade away, as p0nies around you ask for autographs.
- >You sigh, and give in.
- >After about half an hour of signing various merchandise, and even a flank, your back in your dressing room.
- >You talk off your shades, the bright light of the room burning your eyes.
- >You grab a drink from the mini-fridge, and see the rose he left you on your dresser.
- >It’s had its thorns removed already.
- >A small silly gesture, but one that speaks volumes.
- >You place it behind your ear, and slink into your comfy chair.
- >You slowly begin dozing off to sleep.
- >And for the first time in a very long time...
- >You don’t feel alone on the road.
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