The Music of the Dawn

by BassBlossom

First published

A sad story of two ponies: Lyra Heartstrings and Octavia

Two old ponies meet in a park and play a sad, sad song. They have both been abandoned by their true loves. They havent known another pony's companionship in years and they wont know it ever again.

The last song of the night

View Online

Music of the Dawn
By
Bass Blossom

“Eile Meine Liebe, Eile. Der Herbst kommt.”

A lone mare sat on a park bench, listening to her surroundings. She had grown to love that hour before the dawn came. As she grew older, she had begun to sit there on that bench every night. She would greet the dawn and the light that came with it; and when that greeting was finished, she went to her quiet, dark home. She missed the one pony who used to always be there, waiting for her to come home. But she was gone now.

As that sea-green mare sat, she heard soft strains of music, floating toward her on the wind. She looked up from leaves that littered the ground and in the direction the music came from. She slowly picked herself up, off the bench and walked closer to the music.

She was tired. All the time now, not just when she didn’t sleep. But then again, maybe it was because she didn’t ever really sleep. The thoughts of her one special friend gone now, kept her awake. Even the warmest of beds, with the softest of sheets, she would lie awake.

As she got closer to the source of that beautiful melody, she recognized it as the strings of a cello. There, playing that cello, was an equally as old grey mare stood.

Lyra walked quietly over to her old friend, whom she had not seen in years.

“Tavi, is that you?” Lyra asked softly

The grey pony started a bit and turned slowly to face Lyra, a mask of indifference on her face.

“Lyra, I didn’t expect to see you here,” spoke Octavia “but it is a nice surprise.”

Octavia mouth formed a smile but her eyes didn’t show it. She was sad. So incredibly sad and forlorn. Lyra knew this from the look she received and it bothered her. However, she knew what Tavi was feeling.

Forsaken once again, by the one she loved, each pony looked at each other. Searching for some sign of happiness in the other. Neither saw any.

Octavia spoke softly, “Lyra I wrote a song for you. I wrote a long time ago. May I play it?”

“Of course, Tavi. I would love to hear it.”

So Octavia began to play. The most beautiful melody that Lyra had ever heard flowed from that cello. It swelled and ebbed in just the right places and at just the right times. Lyra was overcome by the music and borne away to another place.

As Octavia played each of the ponies realized how long it had been. Then, without thought, Lyra cast a simple spell to make her lyre appear before her.

Lyra began to pluck the strings with her magic. Quietly adding a new melody that sunk into Octavia’s and wove a seamless, beautifully sad song. The music flowed through the air, landing on branches of trees, and on the bench where Lyra had sat for so many years. Both ponies played their instruments with such grace that anypony watching might have thought that they had been doing duets for their whole lives.

As the song came to a close, there seemed to be an invisible curtain that dropped between them. Each pony stared at the other but didn’t talk. Soon again they picked up their instruments and put them away. Octavia’s cello went back into its case and Lyra’s lyre disappeared.

“Goodbye old friend,” whispered Lyra.

“Goodbye,” Octavia whispered back.

And with that they went on their separate ways. As each walked home, they mused about their meeting in the park. Thinking back to when they were young and had different lives. Sadly however, those times were passed, and each was fading. In color, in spirit, and in life.

Lyra walked into her empty home, and laid down on her bed. She fell asleep thinking of Octavia and what she had been like as a young mare. She played at all of the big Canterlot events, but for some reason, she had chosen to live in Ponyville.

The next day, Lyra went through her daily tasks as usual, only, everything was for some unknown reason, a little harder then yesterday.

That night, Lyra again went to the park. She approached her favorite bench and began to sit, but something caught her attention. A note had been carefully placed right where Lyra usually sat. Lyra used her magic and picked up the note and began to read.

“Lyra, this is my last night. I can feel the coldness setting in to my bones. Everything is growing darker and I am finally letting go. It is so hard for me to tell you what you meant to me. From the very beginning I loved you. There it is, I loved you. You were the one pony that made my sun shine. You helped me more then you will ever know. But when you left, I cried for days, for weeks, for months, for years. Lyra Heartstrings, you were my everything. You held my heart, and you will hold until the moment I die and have no heart to be held. I am sorry it had to end this way, but it does. The song we played last night was written the day I realized that you weren’t coming back. The day we said goodbye without saying anything at all, I wrote that song. I wrote it so that you would have a part to play with that golden lyre of yours, because Lyra, you played a part in my life.

Goodbye For Forever,

Tavi”

Lyra began to cry, she was overwhelmed at what she had just read. She sank down onto the bench and broke down for the first time since Bon-Bon’s death. She cried for what felt like an eternity. She cried so hard her head hurt. She cried so hard the tear streaks would never leave her face.

Lyra cried herself to sleep. Right there on that bench Lyra slept. She woke to the light of the grey dawn. Her first instinct was to cry again, but she restrained herself.

She got up, and walked slowly toward Octavia’s home. She took note of the spot where they had played their last song. She took note of the leaves beginning to fall of the trees. “Eile meine liebe, Eile. Der Herbst kommt,” the air whispered.

She found the door of Octavia’s home ajar. She gently poked her nose through the crack and nudged the door open and stepped inside. She hadn’t been in that house in years, but it was the same as she remembered.

She walked quietly to Octavia’s room and peered inside. There on Octavia’s bed lay a motionless grey pony with a treble clef on her flank. Lyra couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

This was it thought Lyra. She was dead. Just like her note had said, this was Tavi’s last night.

Lyra walked to the bed and lay down next to Octavia and cried. She cried until no tears were left. She cried like nopony had ever, ever cried before. Finally, she fell asleep.







• “Eile meine liebe, Eile. Der Herbst kommt” translates from German to “Haste my love, haste. The fall is coming”
• More chapters will come.