A Journey Unthought Of

by Hustlin Tom

Chapter 6 REVISED

It was a bright summer's day. I found myself in a small fenced off backyard I knew very well, and I couldn't help but smile a little to myself. I was at my Aunt Marilyn's house. The little two story home I'd come to love visiting as a child stood not but a few feet in front of me. It's exterior was light peach colored from exposure to the sun and the elements, and the paint was cracked in many places. Though she had been meaning to get a fresh coat of paint on the exterior for years, she had always joked that they provided the house with a 'lived in, personal' touch. The twin gables on either side of the house were accented with bleached white paint, and the shingles were charcoal colored. I found myself going up the stairs, my right hand loosely gripping around the back door hand rail, and I opened the screen door. Suddenly a strange sense of paranoia came over me, and I couldn't help but turn to look over the fence into the other neighbors' yards. I scanned each intently, looking for the justification for why I felt like I was being watched. After finding nothing, I let the feeling go, and stepped inside, as the weather had suddenly become overcast.

The brightly lit kitchen I had been expecting had darkened, but my vision didn't seem to be affected by it.

"Auntie, are you home?" I called out, but the voice I heard echo through the house was not the one I was expecting.

A whisper seemed to creep out of the walls, One thousand years.

The shadows lengthened as I walked from the kitchen towards the hallway that led to the front room. As I came to the area that made for the house's living room, I realized that the street lights had come on.

Someone new? the voice said with surprise, No, not only someone. Something new. The first new thing in ages.

"Who are you," I yelled as I started to looked around the various doors and the set of stairs that originated from the living room, "Where's Marilyn?"

And yet you're not new either, the voice continued without acknowledging me, and its presence grew stronger, Just something old with a new face.

The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. The presence was outside, just out the front window.

I whirled around, and I saw a monster.

On the other side of the glass, standing in the cheaply paved, cracked concrete driveway stood a black horse; not a pony but a true horse. It was as tall as me, it's horn spiring an additional nine inches above my head. It's mane and tail were like some dense purple fog instead of true hair. It flared its wings when it saw me looking, and it flashed a smile, showing off its horrific predatory fangs. I shouted in startled fear and tripped over the floor beneath me. It's serpentine eyes narrowed and it gave a chuckle which I heard inside my mind instead of through the glass. As I backed away as best as I could, I saw a light begin to shine behind me.

LEAVE HIM BE, FOUL SPECTRE! I heard a voice boom behind me, and then there was an abrupt rushing feeling all around me.

---

For the second morning in a row I woke up in a sudden burst. This one was of course more concentrated with fear and adrenaline than the previous one had been. I was breathing frantically, my mind still in a panic from the creature I had seen. I drew my legs up to my chest and brought my arms around them. I was doing everything I could to rationalize to myself that it was over, and that whatever it was couldn't hurt me anymore, but still my body was stuck in flight or fight mode. Even though I knew I was fine, I felt powerless against my own physical experience of fear, which overwhelmed and clouded my every thought.

Then I heard a few chords of music, like from the sound of a harp; haunting and beautiful. My breathing began to even out, and my grip squeezing my legs began to slacken. As the instrument's melody appealed to me, I began to calm down. Finally aware of my surroundings without the fog of dread, I saw that the sky was beginning to brighten through the front window. Dawn would be coming shortly. I realized that the sound was also coming from outside, and then I knew who it was I had to thank for helping me from my miserable state of being.

I quietly eased the front door open, and I stepped outside. Lyra was sitting a few feet away, delicately pulling at the strings of her instrument with her magic. She hadn't yet noticed my presence, and her music continued to be so beautiful that I didn't want to risk interrupting it. I slowly and noiselessly let the front door fall back into its frame, and I waited and listened to her performance. It was still almost too much for my mind to accept that there was something in the universe that equated real magic, and that it was happening right in front of my eyes. Taught metal flexed under a force that seemed to act out of nothing, and then without warning released the string, producing its chord. All this happened as the instrument sat suspended in the air, with no outside force keeping it from falling other than the golden aura that surrounded it.

A sour note brought me out of my musings, and I looked up to see that the unicorn was looking back at me in bewilderment.

"I'm so sorry," I softly apologized as I brought my hands up, "I-"

"No no, it's fine," she said as she let out a quick breath, "You just startled me was all. I'm not used to having an audience."

Some of the awkwardness now dispelled from the situation, I asked as a I pointed near to where she sat, "Do you mind if I-"

She nodded her head and looked to where I was pointing and then waved her hoof towards herself, "Sure! Come on, you can sit by me."

I slowly walked towards her, and then sat down a few feet away. Our backs were towards the house, and our faces towards the East. The sky was beginning to brighten towards a yellowish-orange tone, but light red and bluish-purple still hung on the edges of the sky.

"You're up earlier today," Lyra declared as she lowered her instrument and leaned it on her chest.

"Nightmare," I replied as I settled myself into a comfortable posture, "and a weird one at that."

"Oh?" she looked over to me, "What happened?"

"Well, I was at a family member's house, when nightfall decided to spontaneously happen in a few seconds. Then all of a sudden there was a big black hor-" I quickly stopped myself as I realized what I had been about to say, "Sorry, pony outside staring in at me." I shuddered a little, while Lyra stared at me with wide eyes. "Ah well, that's the beauty of dreams," I declared, blissfully unaware of my host's unnerved state, "they can never really hurt you."

"Yeah," she said as she turned back towards the rising dawn, concern filling her face, "harmless."

"So what were you doing up this early?" I asked.

Lyra shook her head a little to clear her thoughts and then spoke, "Oh, I was just trying to get inspired by the early morning and the coming sunrise. I'm trying to put together this whole ensemble of pieces that are dedicated to the natural world around me. I was just experimenting when I suppose you came out."

"Oh, I see," I said. I turned to look where the sun was going to rise; it hadn't yet peaked over the mountains in the east, "So I broke your musical chain of thought?"

She waved her hoof in my direction, "Nah, there wasn't any concentration behind it or anything; just stream of consciousness free-play. I wasn't feeling very synchronized with the environment anyway." My look of marveling over at her made her curious when she became aware of it, "What?"

"That was you on a bad day? I can't wait to hear you when you're at the top of your game: it was really beautiful!"

She chuckled a little, "Thanks! You really are too kind."

"It actually reminded me a little of my childhood," I said as I looked back through my memories unconsciously, "My Aunt Marilyn was incredible with music. Whenever I was allowed over to her place, she would try to teach me all about the various instruments she played: the piano, violin, and the harp." I rubbed the back of my neck a little, "I never had the patience to really learn any of them though. I really wish I could have changed that."

Lyra smiled as she listened, "She sounds like she would have been very nice to meet. Did she ever perform at any galas or balls? I'd be surprised if she hadn't, from the sound of what sort of caliber of musician she was."

I shook my head a little, "So far as I know she only ever performed for the little church she attended; nothing fancy like parties."

Lyra's eyes widened in disbelief, "How could she have gone unnoticed like that? It's an incredible achievement to master three instruments, and they weren't even related to each other in any way!"

I shrugged, "Even if she had been spotted by some talent agency, she'd have never wanted the fame." I then turned and looked at her curiously, "Are you famous?"

"I can safely say I'm not, but I'm still well off," she declared, "I've sold a few compositions her and there, at least enough to pay for food and save back a little for a rainy day." She nodded to herself and smiled, "Life's been pretty good to me."

"How'd you get your start?"

She looked down at her lyre, her eyes passing over every string. Wordlessly she took up her instrument with her magic and began to strum on the strings contemplatively. Her face screwed upward a little as she thought about what I had asked. Finally she played a full scale of notes, first up and then back down, and then she began her tale.

“I was one of the last of the fillies I knew who got a Cutie Mark.” As she spoke she strummed on her lyre, producing a sad, but beautiful piece. “My parents were rich, and they had wanted me to live the cultured life, so they taught me all of the social niceties in the hopes that I could get an aristocratic talent.” The pace of the piece began to increase as her tempo and intensity grew.

“One day, our class went to a music shop, and they had a display full of instruments of every kind.” Her music slowed and became more graceful and flowing. “I felt a tug on my soul when I first laid eyes on the lyre. It was even at my eye level.” Her music grew with a sense of anticipation. “I reached for it, and as soon as I laid hooves on it, music just seemed to flow out of me, like I was a river channeling water.”

Her music had become beautiful and, without a better word to describe it, elemental. The music she was making now seemed to be as natural and necessary as eating, breathing, and simply being alive.

“When I came home with a Cutie Mark, my parents were not impressed. They were disappointed.” Her notes began to ooze with a growing anger as she pulled harder at the strings unconsciously. “Finally, after I improved my skills, I left. I had been fed up with how they had been trying to make me their little doll for years against my will. I wasn't something they could just put on a shelf and look at!”

Her words and music burned with passion, and sorrowful frustration. She stopped abruptly. She then put her instrument back down in front of her, and held her head high.

I was stunned: I'd certainly not had expectations for a story such as the one I had just received. The music that had accompanied it was even more shocking.

“I may have left them, but I still love them," she said in a more calm tone, interrupting my silence, "Even if they have practically disowned me, I still send them a card every Hearth's Warming Eve. Through the good and the bad they have never responded. After I left, I started to make some modest bits from performances in Canterlot, but I felt restless. Eventually I started traveling from town to town, composing music I thought captured the soul of each, until I came here to Ponyville.”

"What's keeping you here?" I asked, both interested and mystified by her habit.

She paused again, and looked for more words, “I guess I haven't figured out what Ponyville is yet. You see, I feel like my music isn't my own. It feels like...like the music I make is already written and interwoven in this town's everyday life, and I’m just translating it so everypony else can hear it. To me, music is not just notes lined up on paper. Music is the sound of great and good things ringing in our hearts and minds. Music is the language of the soul.”

As she finished her thought, the sun crested the horizon around the eastern mountains, glowing a golden hue and bathed in a ruby red morning. Light reflected off of Lyra’s lyre as it lay against her chest, and made it appear as if it were alive with the colors of gold, yellow, and white. I could almost swear I saw a small rainbow reflect across the strings as it shown.

As we welcomed in the young day with our gaze, I glanced in Lyra's direction, "I'm sorry I interrupted your time to be creative."

"No, you're not," she replied with a smirk as she got to her hooves and began to stretch, "but that's okay. I can always come out the day after next."

I too got to my feet and shook myself a little. As we started to walk back towards the cottage, I spoke up again, "I saw that you were having a hard time deciding on whether to open up to me like that." I looked down at her and smiled a little, touched by what she had done, "Thanks for trusting me, and thanks for the performance."

Her horn lit up, and the door to the cottage swung open for me. She looked up to me and returned the smile, "In both cases, thanks for listening."

Comments

[HgSpartan]

Music is the sound of great and good things ringing in our hearts and minds. Music is the language of the soul.

Marked depth! Deep.