Thud
I have always liked swings; there’s something calming about the rhythm of them. When I was young, Mother used to take me to a park every Saturday after my extra cello lessons. It is still there, in the small neighborhood where I grew up. I loved the swings, still do, with the spinning merry-go-round being a close second whenever Mother wanted to push me. She loved it for a bridge between two pieces of equipment that made music as you walked over it.
I never did like how empty it was, though. It was empty every Saturday, except for Mother and I. Completely empty, all week. It’s always clean, grass mowed, sparkling paint, just nopony ever enjoying it.
Except for Mother and I, every Saturday from three until five.
I was a small filly at that age, and without unicorn magic handling a cello was much harder than it is now. Mother can use her magic to hold the bow, but I had to wedge it in the crook of a hoof. The other I can use the edge of to press down the strings.
The swings creaked under me, underlying my thoughts with the sound all good swings make.
I do like the cello, though. Father says it’s notes are somber and depressing, but I see them more like a backbone. The cello is deep so other instruments can be sharp, like the violin or fiddle. I’ve always told him that deep doesn’t mean sad, but he’s never listened. Father isn’t trying to be mean, he bought the cello for me in the first place. Mother wanted me to learn the trumpet.
Another squeak, just out of sync of my own, pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced over, surprised to see another filly clambering into the swing next to mine. She noticed and smiled.
“Hi!” said the other filly. “You looked lonely, so I came to swing too. My name is Vinyl.” The younger unicorn filly took her seat finally and began to move. She was a little bigger than me, with a white coat and light blue mane, captivating red eyes above her wide smile. A reflected pattern swirled within as I slowed to match her swing.
“Hello,” I said, trying to speak only when we lined up. “My name... is Octavia... Philha... rmonica.”
“Fill-a-monika?” she repeated back.
I took a moment to come to a complete stop. Wood chips sprayed out as my hooves dug in. “No, Philharmonica.” I tried to sound it out. It was hard for me to learn too.
“Oh.” Vinyl kicked off, starting to swing higher. It surprised me, as most unicorns would have just magiced the chains, hooves not required. I waited a beat then pushed off myself, trying to sync our two swing’s squeaking.
My gaze swept over the park, by instinct seeking out Mother. I expected her to be speaking with VInyl’s parent, but she still sat alone on the bench. Seeing me looking, Mother smiled and waved. The rest of the park, as usual, was empty.
The world around me shook, accompanied by a loud crash. I clenched down, years of cello practice keeping me firmly on the swing. I looked over to see Vinyl, cackling like a maniac, swaying back and forth.
“S-Sorry, Tavi!” she giggled. “Didn’t mean to hit you.” She grabbed the chains of her swing again, twisting one forward and one back. Her swing responded, starting to slowly rotate again.
Tavi? “My name is Octavia,” I corrected, staring at Vinyl’s slowly devolving swinging. “What are you doing?”
“Swinging,” she replied, but at this point, it looked more like a spin than a swing. Back and forth, around and around, the chains of Vinyl’s swing constantly crossed over each other before unwinding as she swung ever higher.
“Is that... safe?” Without meaning to, I stopped pumping my hooves. Slowly, I came to a stop. Vinyl, however, only seemed to go higher. The metal frame holding up our seats started to shake.
“No less safe than the monkey bars upside down!”
I gave the playground equipment a hesitant look. The monkey bars, bright green in color, were not usually something I spend any time with. I could barely do them as intended, let alone trying upside down.
I stuck my hooves down into the wood chips again to stop. “That is definitely not safe.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Vinyl said before suddenly flying off her swing. The added spin made her corkscrew through the air before landing, tumbling into a heap of legs and mane near the playground equipment. I watch in concern, but she didn’t get up.
I jumped from my swing and took a hesitant step forward. “Vinyl?”
No response. Another step. “Vinyl?”
Hooves stomped the ground, drawing closer to us. I looked up in surprise to see Mother, approaching at a gallop. “Vinyl?”
“Octavia! What happened?!” Mother asked, stopping by Vinyl’s side. She glanced towards me then crouched down and gently nudged the unicorn filly. “Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
I stopped next to Mother. This close I could see Vinyl’s barrel rising with breath, and shaking.
“Oh, wow,” she groaned, rolling over, wood chips stuck to her coat and mane. Now closer, I could see how dirty her coat was, though that could have been from her close encounter with the ground. “Next time, less spin.”
“Y-You did that on purpose?” I sputtered, drawing a laugh from both ponies present.
“You should be more careful,” Mother chastised before turning to me. “Say goodbye to your friend. We need to go back home.”
I looked away from Mother in time to see Vinyl’s ears droop. She shook her head, planting a smile on her face. “Hey, maybe we can play later? I live just right over there,” she said, pointing to a line of houses on the other side of the park.
Mother smiled down on me. “After cello practice.”
Vinyl slowly climbed to her hooves, swaying only slightly. “Cool. See you tomorrow?”
I nodded, then hurried to follow Mother from the park. It no longer felt quite as empty.