Title:           Resentment: The Ballad of Octavia and Melodious Song
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/tEBLF5hw
First Edit:      Tuesday 1st of July 2014 11:20:03 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Tuesday 1st of July 2014 11:20:03 AM CDT

 
Little Bundle of Regret
 
She stands on her hind legs. Bow held with one hoof, cello in the other. She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly, then begins to play.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAuoRjmFlEQ
the sound reverberates off the walls of her living room and the tiles of the neighboring kitchen, she closes her eyes and lets the music carry her away. She almost feels as if she is performing in a theater once more. How she longs for those days.
 
The piercing cry of a baby rings out throughout the house, breaking her concentration. The cello screams as she quickly jerks the bow across its strings in a huff of disgust at the interrupting sound.
 
"SHUT UP," she yells "I just fed you a few hours ago you little shit."
 
She places her cello and bow where they belong, returns to standing on all four of her legs and walks out of the room, and down the hall towards the source of the crying.
 
"Fine, fine, whatever it takes to shut you up."
 
She opens the door to her once beloved music room, now a hastily converted nursery. All of her instruments and other musical amenities have been removed from the room save the piano which doesn't fit anywhere else in the house. instead there is now a crib, a changing table, and a soft chair for her to sit in while nursing her child. The sound of the child crying can be heard clearly from anywhere in the house, it reverberates off the walls in a fashion that is as terrible her the sound of her music was beautiful when it would do so.
 
She picks the child up from the crib. a small baby of only a few months and without a name as of yet. How could she give a name to this ugly little thing? Its lower half is that of a pony while from the waist up its dark grey fur tapered off until nothing remained but pudgy pink skin and arms, not legs but arms, and head of thin blond hair.
 
"Shut up" she says as she places the child so that it lays on its stomach across her back and carries it over to the chair.
 
Removing the child from her back she seats herself in the chair in an rather awkward position so that her underside faces up, exposed to the world, and her legs hang over the edge. Unlike the normal children of ponies this...creature...to which she gave birth is unable to stand and nurse on its own so she must help it. She holds the child between her legs and places its mouth near one of her breasts that it might feed. She shivers as the child begins to suckle, disgusted by the act of feeding this abomination.
 
The father of this child has disappeared. Not surprising considering he is also father to a number of others just like it, most of which have a different mother. When the child was born, one of the last abominations to be born in Canterlot, she found herself unable to rid herself of it via adoption for such a thing would have been too shameful considering not one of the other mothers had done so. And after all who would want to adopt such an abomination anyways?
 
She no longer travels, no longer gives grand performances for royalty and the well-to-do as the helpless child requires her full attention. Now she stays at home with it living off of her savings, a constant reminder of her weakness and shame.
 
She shivers and again but is thankful that is it has at least grown silent. She looks down at the suckling creature.
 
"You ruined my life."
 
-end-
 
***************************
 
The Clopping of Little Hooves
 
*pat pat clop clop pat pat*
 
Slow deep breath in and a slow release
 
*pat pat clop clop pat pat*
 
Bow at the ready, held only a hairs breath above the strings of its cello
 
*pat pat clop clop clop pat pat*
 
Music begins to fill the house http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyAy6hxGirg
 
*pat pat pat pat pat BAM CRASH*
a child cries out from the neighboring room "WAHHH"
 
The cello screams as the bow is drawn sharply across its strings.
 
"GODS HELP ME, if you broke something I'll throw you out with the trash you little shit." issues the musician.
 
Its an empty threat, as much as she would like to just throw the thing away the norms of high society don't allow for it. She places the cello and bow where they belong and walks into the kitchen to check on the noise.
The child, now old enough to get around on her own by walking on her hooves and hands, has crashed into the leg of the kitchen table and knocked a cooking pot from it onto the floor. As the child cries her mother replaces the pot on the table before going to have a closer look at her.
 
"Your fine, stop crying" she says to the child rather harshly. but the child cries on.
 
Shaking her head and letting out a sharp sigh she approaches the child and seats herself on the floor next to it. Without really looking at the little girl in front of her, she pulls the child close and begins to speak a few kind and gentle words but her tone remains sharp and annoyed.
 
"There there, stop crying, you're ok"
 
She holds the child against her body and gently strokes it hair which has thickened considerably over the past several months and has started to darken in color. But the child cries on.
"Shhh, Melody, shhh, you're ok, stop crying, you're ok." she says to the child while staring off into the other room eyes glassy and distant. Soothed by her mothers cooing and gentle strokes the childs cries begin to soften and fade until they stop all together. The mother stands and retrieves a napkin from counter. She returns to the child's side and begins to wipe the snot from the it's face which begins to fidget and fuss.
 
"Hold still, I'll not have you dripping snot all over my house."
 
Finished she throws the napkin in the trash before returning to the living room and picking up her cello once more. the child follows close behind. As the mother takes her place in the center of the living room the child seats herself only a few inches in front of her mother and her and begins sucking on her thumb.
 
"You're too close, move back" she says to the child.
 
But the child does not move, she only looks up at her mother with bright wide eyes. The mother coldly stares down at the child, who smiles and giggles in return, relishing in the attention her mother is giving her. The mother uses a rear leg to gently slide the child backwards across the carpet as far as she can and then takes two steps back herself. She shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath in, slowly lets it out and then begins to play once more. Carried by her music, she begins to soar. She is far away from her home and the creature that lives inside of it with her. Once more she is standing inside an concert hall with her old group, her friends. Every seat in the hall is filled with a well dressed pony and somewhere in a balcony seat is a member of the royal family, all here to hear her and her friends play. She opens her eyes and then stops playing. Her child lays on the floor in front of her. Thumb in its mouth and a little drool running down its cheek as it lays on its side, it sleeps. She huffs, indignant at the napping child. Replacing her cello and bow on their stand she walks to the window that faces the front yard. Seating herself on the floor and resting her head on the sill she stares out into the yard and contemplates the sign the sits there and the reasons for why it is.
 
It reads "For sale by owner."
 
-end-
 
******
 
Wants and Needs/Going Through the Motions
 
Her bow hovers over the strings of her instrument. Today she has chosen her double bass. Though capable of playing a wide variety of instruments, she excels at both the cello and bass. In years past the cello was her favorite. To her the cello is deep but bright, calm but lively. As of late, however, she leans more towards the heavy, somber, and hollow sounding bass. She stands at the ready and just as bow meets string...
 
"Momma, Momma, Momma" says a small child.
 
The bass groans deeply as the bow is drawn sharply across its strings.
 
"What do you want," says her mother flatly as she places her bow down to pick up her wine glass. She looks at the child only with her periphery vision.
 
"Momma, I hungy" says the child.
 
"I'm not going to pay you any attention if you can't speak properly" says the mother just as flatly as before.
 
The child cocks her head and blinks at her mother, unable to comprehend. "Momma, I hungy, wan snack" says the child.
 
"The word is hungry Melody, hungry. If you can't say it correctly you won't get any food right now," says the mother irritation beginning to show in her voice before taking sip of her red wine. Its a cheap brand. She could afford better, her savings do permit it, but as things stand she is out of work.
 
"Hu, hun, hun-g...g...gry" the child says.
 
"Uff, I suppose that's the best you can do. What do you want for a snack?" says the mother, still only seeing the child with her periphery.
 
"Apple?" says the child.
 
"Very well then" says the mother, replacing her wine glass on the table and putting her bass in its stand. Resuming her normal stance upon four legs she makes her way across the room into the kitchen with a few steps.
 
She sold her house in Canterlot and got a small apartment where the rent is less than half of what her mortgage payments were. Her apartment pales in comparison to her now sold house. While her house had many large and exquisitely decorated rooms her apartment has the kitchen and main living area as an adjoined space, two small bedrooms, one for her one for the thing that lives with her, and a single bathroom, she detests it so. She even had to sell most of her instruments and music amenities because there as not the space for them. But now she and the strange child can live off of her saving for a good while provided she is frugal.
 
From a large decorative bowl on the counter she retrieves a shiny red apple for the child who is now at her side standing on two pony legs with arms outstretched for her treat.
 
"Not yet. Be patient," says the mother placing the apple on the counter and retrieving a plate from a cabinet. .
 
The child drops her arms to her sides and rocks on her hooves impatiently. Placing the apple on the plate the mother takes a knife from a drawer and cuts the apple into slices before passing the whole plate to the child.
 
"Go sit down before you eat and don't make a mess," says the mother.
 
The child nods her head and, as carefully as she can, she walks to the other side of the room and seats herself on the rug of the main living area before happily munching on an apple slice. The mother places the knife in the washing basin before returning to her place in the main living space.
 
Once more she picks up her bass and bow. She shuts her eyes, takes in a deep breath and slowly releases it before starting to play. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tg4kr9tDtjI [Embed]
Her music is no longer what it once was. She soars no more as it can no longer carry the weight she feels in her soul. When she plays, no longer does remember the days gone by of performing with friends for royalty and wealthy but of her own longing for those days to return. Life has taken away her performance but she still has her music and she tries to take solace in it. She pours herself into every note, her sadness, her longing, her loss. Suddenly she feels something take hold of her leg. With a start she jerks her bow across the strings of her bass once more and looks down to see her child has wrapped itself around her. The child looks up with tears in her eyes and a little snot running from one side of her nose.
 
"Get off of me," says the mother very sternly.
 
The child reluctantly releases her mothers leg and takes a few steps back. Wiping her nose on her sleeve the child looks up at her mother.
 
"Go to your room," says the mother with ice in her tone.
 
The child retrieves what remains of her apple slices and walks to her room. The mother watches the child go. When the child is out of sight the mother snaps her head to face forward once again. It is only then that she realizes, she was crying too.
 
-end-