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# A Guy, A Lyre, and a Park Bench -Chapter 1-

By: PaleNarrator on Jun 17th, 2012 | syntax: None | size: 6.80 KB | hits: 1,510 | expires: Never
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1. >The water from the sink was making your hands a bit soggy as you washed the dishes from tonight's meals.
2. >Luckily for you, ponies hadn't figured out the glory that is the man-which, so the most you were cleaning up were salads and flower sandwiches.
3. >Such is life as a bus boy in Ponyville.
4. >The day was grinding away slowly, but your shift would end pretty soon and you had plans.
5. >Well, what could pass for plans, anyway.
6. >You look over your shoulder at the sketch pad on the counter behind you.
7. >You couldn't wait to get out of here and just relax.
8. >Another hour passes, and your morning shift finally ends.
9. >You wipe the soap and suds from your hands and onto your apron, which you then toss off as you grab the sketch pad and pencils you had brought.
10. >As you leave you give your boss a wave and make your way to the park.
11. >It was a beautiful day, that couldn't be argued with.
12. >You make your way through the park, the sun shining high in the afternoon sky.
13. >No clouds out.
14. >The Pegasi must have moved tomorrow's shower further down the week.
15. >Spotting a lone bench, you sit down and open up the sketch book, your pencil in your mouth.
16. >What to draw.
17. >What to draaaaaw...
18. >You had countless still lives of trees and shops, even a few sketches of various townsponies.
19. >You'd call what you do "people watching" but, well, ponies.
20. >You spot a few bluejays singing in a tree nearby and decide that they would be your muse for the day.
21. >You get the basic shape of them down, and start to flesh out the picture when you hear someone clear their throat next to you.
22. >When you pick up your head, you're met by a pair of gold eyes staring back at you.
23. >"Hey."
24. "Oh. Hey."
25. >She's a unicorn, that much is evident from the horn on her head.
26. >"You uh... you're kinda..."
27. >She keeps looking from the bench to you.
28. "What?"
29. >"Where you're sitting. It's kinda my... I mean I usually..."
30. >Oh, you thought you recognized her from somewhere.
31. >What with her mint-green fur, you're embarrassed for not recalling her sooner.
32. "Sorry, sorry. This is your spot, right? I mean, you come to this park often."
33. >She lets out a sigh of relief and nods.
34. >"Yeah, that's me. The bench-sitter."
35. >You laugh and get to your feet.
36. "Well I didn't mean to take up your space."
37. >She looks at you confusedly.
38. >"Uhm, you don't have to, you know, leave or anything. Just... like, scoot over, man."
39. >Oh.
40. >Right.
41. >You scoot down the bench and make room for the unicorn, as she hops onto it and sits down in an... unusual, fashion.
42. "Heh."
43. >"What?"
44. "Hm?"
45. >"You laughed."
46. "Oh... no I didn't."
47. >"You going 'heh' isn't laughing?"
48. "...uhm..."
49. >"Because I'm pretty sure that 'heh' sounds an awful lot like laughing."
50. "No I just-... what I mean is I... you sit like me."
51. >"What?"
52. "You, you sit like- I mean most ponies lie down when they-... you and I sit like each other."
53. >"Oh."
54. "Yeah."
55. >...
56. >You quickly look away from her and bring your attention back to your sketch pad.
57. >The unicorn shrugs and lifts a small lyre that she brought with her onto her lap.
58. >Okay, you got most of the basic form down, now on to the feathers.
59. >You look back to the tree, but to your disappointment the bluejays are long gone.
60. >Crap.
61. >Now what?
62. >You start to contemplate leaving the park, when your attention is drawn to a sound next to you.
64. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYQmJM3r3Bs
66. >She's playing a song.
67. >You don't know what song it is, hell maybe she made it up on the spot.
68. >But it's pretty... calming.
69. >She plucks each string with her right hoof, you don't even bother asking how ponies do these things without hands, and has a serene expression on her face while doing so.
70. >As you stare at her while she plays, an idea pops into your head.
71. >You turn towards her a tad and ready your pencil, starting our slow.
72. >With each stroke you capture more and more about her form on the paper before you.
73. >The music seemed to move your hand as you fleshed her out on the pad in your lap.
74. >Her song ends, and she glances over to you.
75. >You were in the middle of trying to draw her mane, so you're both now staring at each other.
76. >"Were... were you drawing me?"
77. "What?"
78. >"Were you drawing me?"
79. "Uh... no?"
80. >She stares at you, deadpan.
81. "Maybe?..."
82. >More deadpan.
83. "Yes."
84. >She looks at you quizzically, then down to your sketch pad, but you tilt it towards your chest so she doesn't see.
85. >She cocks an eyebrow at you, and you give in.
86. >You flip the pad and show her the drawing.
87. >"Why am I bald?"
88. "Excuse me?"
89. >"I'm bald, in the picture you drew me with no hair. I have hair."
90. "Well I'm not DONE yet. I was actually about to draw your mane when you caught me... staring."
91. >"Oh."
92. >...
93. "You're good."
94. >"Hm?"
95. "The lyre. You're good at playing it, I mean."
96. >"Oh. Thanks."
97. >She smiles at you, genuinely thankful for the compliment.
98. >"I'd say the same for your drawing of me, but... well, not bald."
99. >The two of you laugh and you nod.
100. >...
101. >"Sooo... you gonna keep drawing me, or are you too embarrassed to keep going?"
102. "Oh. right. Sorry."
103. >She giggles and shakes her head in bemusement before continuing to play her lyre.
105. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LACZaf3zT_I&feature=plcp
107. >Time passes, and the two of you have been sitting in the park for some time.
108. >The sun starts to make it's may West, and the sky begins to darken ever so slightly.
109. >She never stopped playing, and you never stopped drawing, for that matter. Two whole pages are littered with doodles and sketches of this one mint-green pony.
110. >As she plays, she looks up to the sky and sighs.
111. >"Well, seems like it's getting late."
112. >You nod, leaning back on the bench and massaging your wrist.
113. "I should probably get back home before it get's late."
114. >"Mmhmm."
115. >The two of you look to the gold and bronze sky, and let out a collective sigh.
116. "Damn if that's not gorgeous."
117. >"Yup."
118. >...
119. >"Lyra."
120. "Hm?"
121. >"My name."
122. "Oh. Anonymous."
123. >She hops of the bench, the lyre hovering next to her in a soft aqua glow.
124. >"Well, 'Anonymous,' I think this is where we depart."
125. "Seems that way. Here."
126. >You carefully tear out the page that has your original drawing on it and hand it to her.
127. >"Huh. Thanks."
128. "Anytime."
129. >She smiles.
130. >"Okay, how's next week?"
131. "What?"
132. >"You, me, the park bench. Next week. We could make this a 'thing.' You know, just a sit and make art sort of thing."
133. >You fumbled it over in your mind, then smile back at her.
134. "Deal."
135. >"Cool. Well uh... see you next week?"
136. "Yeah. Yeah, see you."
137. >She waves, then trots off out of the park.
138. >You sit up, crack your back, then head in the opposite direction to your apartment.
139. >Today had been a pretty good one.
140. >Sure, work sucks, but you had a great evening if that meant anything.
141. >And you made a new friend, to boot.
142. >Weekly meet ups, huh?
143. >A grin cracks across your face.
144. >Things were looking up.
145. >Then you find the eviction notice on your apartment door.
146. >Oh.
147. >Well.
148. >Shit.
150. ~END~

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>The water from the sink was making your hands a bit soggy as you washed the dishes from tonight's meals. >Luckily for you, ponies hadn't figured out the glory that is the man-which, so the most you were cleaning up were salads and flower sandwiches. >Such is life as a bus boy in Ponyville. >The day was grinding away slowly, but your shift would end pretty soon and you had plans. >Well, what could pass for plans, anyway. >You look over your shoulder at the sketch pad on the counter behind you. >You couldn't wait to get out of here and just relax. >Another hour passes, and your morning shift finally ends. >You wipe the soap and suds from your hands and onto your apron, which you then toss off as you grab the sketch pad and pencils you had brought. >As you leave you give your boss a wave and make your way to the park. >It was a beautiful day, that couldn't be argued with. >You make your way through the park, the sun shining high in the afternoon sky. >No clouds out. >The Pegasi must have moved tomorrow's shower further down the week. >Spotting a lone bench, you sit down and open up the sketch book, your pencil in your mouth. >What to draw. >What to draaaaaw... >You had countless still lives of trees and shops, even a few sketches of various townsponies. >You'd call what you do "people watching" but, well, ponies. >You spot a few bluejays singing in a tree nearby and decide that they would be your muse for the day. >You get the basic shape of them down, and start to flesh out the picture when you hear someone clear their throat next to you. >When you pick up your head, you're met by a pair of gold eyes staring back at you. >"Hey." "Oh. Hey." >She's a unicorn, that much is evident from the horn on her head. >"You uh... you're kinda..." >She keeps looking from the bench to you. "What?" >"Where you're sitting. It's kinda my... I mean I usually..." >Oh, you thought you recognized her from somewhere. >What with her mint-green fur, you're embarrassed for not recalling her sooner. "Sorry, sorry. This is your spot, right? I mean, you come to this park often." >She lets out a sigh of relief and nods. >"Yeah, that's me. The bench-sitter." >You laugh and get to your feet. "Well I didn't mean to take up your space." >She looks at you confusedly. >"Uhm, you don't have to, you know, leave or anything. Just... like, scoot over, man." >Oh. >Right. >You scoot down the bench and make room for the unicorn, as she hops onto it and sits down in an... unusual, fashion. "Heh." >"What?" "Hm?" >"You laughed." "Oh... no I didn't." >"You going 'heh' isn't laughing?" "...uhm..." >"Because I'm pretty sure that 'heh' sounds an awful lot like laughing." "No I just-... what I mean is I... you sit like me." >"What?" "You, you sit like- I mean most ponies lie down when they-... you and I sit like each other." >"Oh." "Yeah." >... >You quickly look away from her and bring your attention back to your sketch pad. >The unicorn shrugs and lifts a small lyre that she brought with her onto her lap. >Okay, you got most of the basic form down, now on to the feathers. >You look back to the tree, but to your disappointment the bluejays are long gone. >Crap. >Now what? >You start to contemplate leaving the park, when your attention is drawn to a sound next to you. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYQmJM3r3Bs >She's playing a song. >You don't know what song it is, hell maybe she made it up on the spot. >But it's pretty... calming. >She plucks each string with her right hoof, you don't even bother asking how ponies do these things without hands, and has a serene expression on her face while doing so. >As you stare at her while she plays, an idea pops into your head. >You turn towards her a tad and ready your pencil, starting our slow. >With each stroke you capture more and more about her form on the paper before you. >The music seemed to move your hand as you fleshed her out on the pad in your lap. >Her song ends, and she glances over to you. >You were in the middle of trying to draw her mane, so you're both now staring at each other. >"Were... were you drawing me?" "What?" >"Were you drawing me?" "Uh... no?" >She stares at you, deadpan. "Maybe?..." >More deadpan. "Yes." >She looks at you quizzically, then down to your sketch pad, but you tilt it towards your chest so she doesn't see. >She cocks an eyebrow at you, and you give in. >You flip the pad and show her the drawing. >"Why am I bald?" "Excuse me?" >"I'm bald, in the picture you drew me with no hair. I have hair." "Well I'm not DONE yet. I was actually about to draw your mane when you caught me... staring." >"Oh." >... "You're good." >"Hm?" "The lyre. You're good at playing it, I mean." >"Oh. Thanks." >She smiles at you, genuinely thankful for the compliment. >"I'd say the same for your drawing of me, but... well, not bald." >The two of you laugh and you nod. >... >"Sooo... you gonna keep drawing me, or are you too embarrassed to keep going?" "Oh. right. Sorry." >She giggles and shakes her head in bemusement before continuing to play her lyre. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LACZaf3zT_I&feature=plcp >Time passes, and the two of you have been sitting in the park for some time. >The sun starts to make it's may West, and the sky begins to darken ever so slightly. >She never stopped playing, and you never stopped drawing, for that matter. Two whole pages are littered with doodles and sketches of this one mint-green pony. >As she plays, she looks up to the sky and sighs. >"Well, seems like it's getting late." >You nod, leaning back on the bench and massaging your wrist. "I should probably get back home before it get's late." >"Mmhmm." >The two of you look to the gold and bronze sky, and let out a collective sigh. "Damn if that's not gorgeous." >"Yup." >... >"Lyra." "Hm?" >"My name." "Oh. Anonymous." >She hops of the bench, the lyre hovering next to her in a soft aqua glow. >"Well, 'Anonymous,' I think this is where we depart." "Seems that way. Here." >You carefully tear out the page that has your original drawing on it and hand it to her. >"Huh. Thanks." "Anytime." >She smiles. >"Okay, how's next week?" "What?" >"You, me, the park bench. Next week. We could make this a 'thing.' You know, just a sit and make art sort of thing." >You fumbled it over in your mind, then smile back at her. "Deal." >"Cool. Well uh... see you next week?" "Yeah. Yeah, see you." >She waves, then trots off out of the park. >You sit up, crack your back, then head in the opposite direction to your apartment. >Today had been a pretty good one. >Sure, work sucks, but you had a great evening if that meant anything. >And you made a new friend, to boot. >Weekly meet ups, huh? >A grin cracks across your face. >Things were looking up. >Then you find the eviction notice on your apartment door. >Oh. >Well. >Shit. ~END~