Sister

by The Red Parade

Drums of the City Rain

Author's Note:

I don't usually put commentary like this but I figured I'd share the story behind the story.

I hadn't intended to publish this. I wrote this story without even thinking about Desert Song, but during the commentary phase people said that they thought this was a sequel to that story. This blew me away, as I realized that it really could be a sequel.

I don't really hold a lot of my stories close to my heart, but Desert Song is the exception. So I pretty much had to publish this one. I hope you enjoy.

The rain is like a drum. It beats a steady cadence as it hits the ground, driving along the symphony that only I can hear.

No, that isn’t quite right. Vinyl Scratch sips her coffee, hanging onto the thought for a moment longer before letting it slip away. She looks through the glass pane window at the rain, as it hits the sidewalk, the little drops making ripples in the puddles.

Water gushed down the gutters and through the storm drains, being whisked away into the depths of the city. Waves upon waves rushed through the roads, like tiny rivers streaming through a land of asphalt.

The rain is like an orchestra. It rises and falls in its own tempo, speeding up and slowing down.

Not quite. Vinyl blinks slowly, her gaze travelling upwards towards the dark gray clouds. A flash of lightning illuminates the city, followed by the crack of thunder. The rain falls harder, drenching the streets outside.

The rain is like…

“Sorry about that.”

Vinyl turns away from the window as Octavia slides back into the booth. “Where’d you go?”

“To the phone,” Octavia replies. “She didn’t pick up. It’s not like her to be late.” She shifts nervously, glancing at the dreary world outside. The gaslights throw a shade of hazy light against the sidewalk that’s almost completely drowned out by the rain. “Vinyl, I’m worried. She’s usually very punctual… and she was very eager to see me again.”

“Oh.”

“I do hope nothing’s happened to her.” Octavia gets up again. “I’m going to call Braeburn. He might know.”

Vinyl nods, and Octavia slips away. She sips her coffee again and looks at the clock above the bar counter. They’re supposed to meet Octavia’s sister, Fiddlesticks. They haven’t spoken in a long time, Vinyl recalls. But still, Fiddle’s half an hour late.

Octavia was surprised to hear from her. She’s very excited to see her sister again. Vinyl stirs her coffee and muses on that. She wonders what it’s like to have a sister.

The rain is like… the rain is like a river that falls from the sky. Rushing on and on without a start or an end.

Well, of course it is. They’re both made of water, aren’t they? Vinyl shakes her head, crossing those words out in the notebook sitting next to her. Her latest song’s been having trouble lately. She’s just looking for a place to start.

Vinyl turns her attention to the crowded cafe and lets it all sink in. There’s the happy chatter of the other patrons, the clinking of silverware and voices from the kitchen. An overburdened waitress weaves her way in between the sea of tables and chairs, balancing a tray on her head.

The rain is like an old friend. You feel happy to see it again and feel sad when it goes, but only if you haven’t seen it in awhile.

That barely makes sense, Vinyl decides. Her eyes move across the room until they settle on Octavia, standing on the far end of the room. She holds a phone to her ear and shifts on her hooves nervously.

The phone booth is weathered and worn, with some graffiti carved into its side. The number pad is worn and faded, and the phone book hanging from its side is missing its cover. There’s a white image of a phone painted on the side, though the decal is a bit worn out now.

The rain is like a fire. It’s both a beautiful and a horrible thing. It cleanses and washes away, but it brings with it life.

She likes that one. But it’s a bit lengthy and could be better. Vinyl draws a question mark next to it.

There’s a lot of color in the cafe. The floor is made of red and white tiles, and the walls are decorated with colorful photographs. The ceiling is a dull white, not quite as vibrant as her own coat.

The reds are bright, though. It reminds her of that apple orchard on the edge of Ponyville. It’s always full of vibrant shades of green and red, even in a storm.

Vinyl looks at Octavia again. She holds her other forehoof to her ear, trying to block out the noise of the cafe. She can’t quite make out what Octavia’s saying. But she can see that Octavia’s biting her lip. Her eyes are darting from side to side. She speaks fast and stumbles through her words.

“...Fiddle? What happened?”

She can’t make out the rest of her words.

Vinyl looks outside again. A pony in a raincoat rushes by, head low and mane blowing from the wind. She wonders for a second where he’s going. It doesn’t really matter to her, though. He’s just another raindrop in the massive puddle that was life.

The rain is like a lover. It brings life wherever it goes.

That’s not exactly true. Vinyl looks down into the brown murkiness of her coffee as if something inside will stare back at her. Nothing does, of course. That’d be ridiculous. She swirls the cup a little bit and the liquid goes splashing against the confines of the mug. She presses her hooves against the side and sighs in contentment as it warms her.

The rain is like… the rain is like life. It starts and it ends, like all things. And it has its highs and its lows, like every good storm. It gets better sometimes and it gets worse other times.

She likes that.

Vinyl looks at Octavia again. Is she… crying? Octavia swipes at her eyes, barely getting the words out. Her body shakes as tears stream out of her eyes.

The rain is like…

Someone in the booth behind Vinyl laughs. There’s a distinct clink as a fork hits the side of a plate.

Vinyl stands up and makes her way towards Octavia. She almost hits the waitress, who offers an apology even though it wasn’t her fault.

The rain is like…

A pair of foals on her right start crying, as their mother tries to calm them down. The mare has bags under her eyes and some faint bruises under her makeup.

Octavia repeats something she said.

An elderly couple in front of her gets up, having finished their meal. The stallion limps forwards on his cane, offering a foreleg to his spouse.

The rain is like…

As Vinyl gets closer to Octavia, she can make out two words.

“... killed herself?”

Comments

[Nitro Indigo]

The description of the café was nice, though it confused me at first because I wasn’t sure where they were. The last line caught me off-guard.

Also, you forgot to add this to the Quills and Sofas group.

[The Red Parade]

10251848
I forgot they made the folders already. Glad you liked it!

[PresentPerfect]

whoa