A pony dreams of scenes from other ponies lives, influenced by the songs he listens to.
I tend to think in songs: song titles, lyrics and melodies pepper my thoughts. As an exercise to get me into writing, I have my own OC, Crate Digger dream up the lives of various ponies, inspired by songs that I like. The songs often suggest a scene for a particular pony. These little vignettes are the dreams he has as he listens to the music.
In a backroom, with a stack of dusty records, there is a pony. His grey coat and grey mane are rather unremarkable, save for the little bit of cream on the hooves and snout. But there is one thing that this pony loves more than anything else, his passion: the crates and crates filled with records that he is surrounded with. It is symbolized by the gramophone that graces his flank.
Normally, he'd be cataloging and looking over the discs of plastic and shellac, trying to figure out who was on which or determine the age of this recording or that. Or, he would have the diamond tip of the stylus to dig the music from the grooves, and simply enjoy the sounds. However, right now, this pony is daydreaming. The late afternoon sun streams through the window, and the pony is sleepy. He tells himself that he'll rest his eyes for a bit, but soon a gentle snore issues from where the pony rests his head on the bench.
Soon, his dreams are shaped by the music that still plays and the mesh with the lives of those in Ponyville that the pony knows. What the lives he imagines that the ponies in Canterlot live. These are the dreams of Crate Digger, a pony that loves music.
Vanity, thy name is inspired by "Vanity Kills" by ABC
"I have very beautiful lips."
Rarity stared intently at her image in the mirror. The phrase was a mantra to try to convince herself that she was the same beautiful mare she had always been.
"Sis, are you going to stay in there all day? We need to be on the train to Canterlot in an hour!" Sweetie Belle's voice came through the door. She had long since become a grown mare herself, and the voice training she had ordinarily made Sweetie Belle's voice as sweet and mellow as her name. However, whenever she got exasperated at her sister, the squeaks of foalhood would creep back in. Those squeaks were there now.
Rarity did her best to ignore that tone as she carefully applied the makeup first to her lips. "Sweetie, darling, I'm going to be appearing before royalty and I need to look my best." What she didn't say, but had to admit privately to herself, is she was doing this because she wanted to still look like that graceful mare from twenty years ago that used the Elements. Spike, even as a juvenile dragon, would always compliment her looks and compare her to the diamonds on her flank. But she knew she was getting older, and time is not kind to a mare.
Behind the door, there was a soft growl. "You won't be seeing the Princesses until tomorrow. Twilight even specifically made sure you would have time to freshen up before you appeared in front of the crowds."
Sweetie Belle was still young enough that she didn't have to worry about such things, Rarity shot back in her own mind. But she didn't say it, partially because what Sweetie said was true. She looked at her white coat, ever so slightly dulled to grey; her fabulous purple mane and tail no longer holding the coiffure she worked so hard to achieve not as long as it used to. Worst of all, aside from Spike, she was not getting the compliments from the other stallions that she had long enjoyed. No, she still needed to look her best.
Her horn glowed a light blue and lifted a powder puff. She lightly dusted her coat with talc, helping to hide the grey. She was lucky, she mused, that she had a white coat. Poor Fluttershy must to have to get something special for her yellow coat. She must ask her sometime.
"How much longer?" Sweetie Belle called impatiently.
"I am just about ready, dear. You don't rush a lady," Rarity retorted primly. Regardless, she did start to pick the pace. As much as she wanted to wallow, her sister was right. She had to be on that train, and it would best that she did it in a dignified manner, rather than running pell-mell through the streets of Ponyville. Rarity took another look at herself in mirror. She would like to believe that the face that stared back at her was the same one of the youthful Rarity, but no, time has marched on and left its tracks on her body. She sighed, quickly applied the false eyelashes, then gathered the toiletries and set them in the travel case.
As she opened the door, Sweetie Belle was standing there, still in the prime of her life, the two toned mane keeping its youthful curl. "Took you long enough," she muttered with a mixture of exasperation and sisterly teasing.
Rather than rising to the bait, she looked at her sister seriously. "Sweetie Belle, darling, do you think I'm getting rather long in the tooth?"
Sweetie Belle was rather confused by the non-sequitur. "No, you're just as lovely as ever. I wish I could be half as graceful as you are."
Rarity smiled at the compliment, a tear welled in her eye. Maybe she still had beauty left in her. There was an awkward pause, before Rarity broke the silence. "Right, the train. Shall we get going?"
Sun slipped below the horizon as the sky was splashed with pinks and purples. Despite what some ponies thought, Celestia didn't really move the sun up and down, but her connection to the sun was a constant presence in the back of her mind. She took a deep breath, as the twilight air over Canterlot cooled and was made pleasant. As the sun moved to the other side of planet, she felt the connection ebb, like the tides moving out from the beach.
Luna's moon, a mere sliver of its glory already hung in the clear Canterlot sky above the horizon. Celestia treasured the times when her sister would be up at nearly the same time as her, her own moon tugging on her consciousness, though flooded and overwhelmed by Celestia's sun. There was a relief when she no longer had to take up both the connection with both heavenly bodies.
Celestia performed the ritual that expected of her at the end of the day, the same as she had done for untold years. The end of the day was a little sad for her, because she knew that it was invariably the last one for some of her subjects; be it due to sickness, age or just luck of the draw, there would be no more sunrises for those ponies. Despite what some might say, she didn't shed any artificial tears for those that had passed. If a tear came to her eye, it was genuine.
This was especially true for those she came to know personally; the guards in her personal service, the students that she had mentored and trained over the centuries, and those she counted as friends. Sooner or later, all of them, save her sister, grew old and passed away. Yet, Celestia, like the sun, carried on and remained outwardly unchanged.
Celestia's melancholy thoughts brought her hooves to the personal chambers. "A bit for your thoughts, sister?" Luna was readying for her Night Court, but she still had time for her sister.
"Do I look that distracted?" Celestia asked with an attempt at humor. When Luna didn't respond, but waited patiently, Celestia dropped her regal persona completely, her mane stilling in that invisible wind. "It isn't much, Luna. Just reminded of all the lives I've seen come and go."
Luna flicked an ear and tilted her head, "Would you like that I stay with you for the night?"
The question snapped Celestia out of her mood, but it reminded her something important. "No," she replied quietly, "you have your own duties, as do I. I may mourn the losses and regret the mistakes I made," she looked at Luna significantly, "but I still must carry on."
"But you do not do it alone."
"No, I couldn't do it alone. It is because of those lives that I can. Now, you can't keep the Court waiting. I will see you in the morning." Celestia then turned and closed the door to her chamber.
As Luna continued down the hall to the chambers, she swore she heard the soft sound of sobbing from beyond that door.
She stepped off the platform to make way for the next DJ for the night in the hippest club in Canterlot. "Everyone stomp your hooves for DJ Pon3!" Vinyl Scratch was busy getting her records together, but she spared a quick wave to the cheers and applause. She then magicked her wax into her saddlebags and headed to the green room to cool down. One thing she learned early on was when you are on stage, give all you got, but once your set is over, move on.
The thumps of the dance music dimmed to a muffled throb as she got to the green room in the back of the club. The adrenaline from the performance always caused her head to throb in time with the beat after a show. She was about get a welcomed drink of water when she was interrupted.
"Hey, Vinyl, great show. You just killed it again!"
Vinyl chuckled, "Thanks, Needle. The crowd was into your show as well."
The stallion leaned back on the couch he was resting on "Thanks. Always prefer to play before you, get them worked up. You're a hard act to follow."
Vinyl was silent a moment, mostly since she was dehydrated and badly needed to gulp down as much water as she could. After taking care of her thirst, she then stowed her gear in a locker. Once her immediate needs were met, she turned to the stallion and shrugged, "I am what I play. The crowds seem to like it."
"Oh, don't give me that! That sort of philosophical crap isn't you."
Vinyl looked over her trademark shades and smirked, "I know, but it sounds impressive. Gives the reporters something to put in the paper. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to get a couple drinks in me and enjoy the other shows."
Needle Drop waved a hoof, "I'll see you out there a little later."
With that, Vinyl Scratch headed back onto the floor.
