My heart was pounding furiously.
I chugged down the mug of coffee I was gripping in my telekinesis, the third cup for the night, then put it back onto the table.
I let out a sigh as I brought a hoof up to my eyelid, rubbing my eye as I mused to myself: “Guess I’m pulling another all-nighter.”
I shuffled the music sheets in front of my eyes, organizing them into a neat pile before setting them on the stand in front of me. I turned my head to the instrument sitting before me, its gracious contour and healthy, taut strings enticing me to start playing.
Reluctantly, I lit my horn and lifted the instrument closer to me before carefully setting it on the ground. I took in a deep breath, and said to myself, “Just one perfect round, Lyra. Just one round, and you can go to bed.”
I took a deep breath and let it out, then began to play. The soft, soothing notes swirled around me, wrapping me in the warm embrace that always made me feel at home. I closed my eyes, letting my magic flow with the music and resonate with the song floating in the air.
Slowly I rocked back and forth on my stool, riding the smooth rhythms like waves on a warm summer beach. A smile floated up to my face as I pictured myself lying on the beach on an air mat with the waves splashing at the edges, drowning out the music as bright sunlight gently warmed me to sleep. I started to doze off, my head falling forward—
Something bumped into my head. My eyes flew open as I jolted myself back into reality, gasping and frantically looking around for the object that hit my head. There was nothing but my harp and me, both of us sitting beneath a lone electric lamp that was barely bright enough to light up beyond where my music stand and harp stood.
I let out a sigh as I vigorously shook my head, trying to chase the sleep away. I looked towards where my coffee pot was sitting. After a brief moment of feeling around with my magic, I finally found the pot, only to discover that, to my dismay, it was empty. But I couldn’t go downstairs and boil another pot of coffee; I would have to turn on the lights for that, which would inevitably wake Bonbon up. I wasn’t going to disturb her sleep, not when she herself had overworked during the past few days trying to match the insane demands of her brand new candy. Just then, an idea popped into my head.
I took in a deep breath as I carefully moved the harp away from my stool and stood up. While I wouldn’t be able to make more coffee, I would be able to sneak into the bathroom and wash my face with some cold water. Slowly, I took a step forward, careful not to make the floorboards creak. Then I took another step. Then another. Slowly but steadily I crept to the door and turned it open, revealing a pitch-black hallway beyond.
I glanced behind me, first at my music stand and harp, then at my bed that sat right next to me and the door. The warm covers and the soft pillows looked so enticing, as if they were calling me to take a nap in it.
Don’t worry, they whispered in my ears, it’ll be fine. You can take an hour or two to catch up on your sleep. All this is going to be meaningless if you’re too tired to properly practice.
I stared longingly at the bed, my gateway to the dreamscape. But, eventually, I shook my head and walked out into the hallway, straining to ignore my mind’s desire to slip into those blankets and just take a quick snatch of sleep.
I couldn’t afford to take a nap, and I knew that better than anyone else. I knew that the moment I slid into my bed, I would most certainly end up sleeping until the sun shone upon my face, and that would ruin my concert scheduled in the morning.
As I wobbled out into the hallway, my legs threatening to give out as if they were made of jelly, I breathed out. I could feel the exhaustion crawling through my body, filling my insides and my muscles, intoxicating them with a dose of sleep I longed for so much and yet couldn’t allow myself to have.
I came to a rest against a wall, putting a hoof against my chest; I could feel my heart, my one and only source of life, thrumming madly against my ribcage, trying to force its way out of the constricting prison it had found itself in. My eyes stung with the intensity of a thousand bits of dust in them, and my profuse blinking did nothing to alleviate the feeling.
I groaned as I dredged up the last of my willpower to stand back up, and once again I began hobbling down the hallway. Heart pounding and eyes stinging like a flock of bees, I finally reached my destination after what felt like an eternity.
I swung the door to the bathroom open before flipping the light switch. I squinted my eyes as I tried to shield my vision from the invasive bright lights that made my eyes water. For a moment squeezing my eyes shut was all I could do while colors continued to dance within my eyelids. But slowly vision returned to me, and I carefully opened my eyes.
There she stood, a half-dead looking pony in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath her bloodshot eyes while her mane and coat, usually a mint green color, was now thin and showing patches of grey here and there. I turned on the tap and splashed some cold water onto my face, the half-dead pony briefly disappearing from my vision as I ducked towards the sink. The moment I finished rinsing my face and wiped the water off with a towel, she reappeared in the mirror.
I stared at her, and she stared back at me.
Go to sleep, she whispered at me.
“I can’t. I need to practice for the concert tomorrow,” I whispered back.
Go to sleep, Lyra Heartstrings. You’re too tired to practice properly at this point.
“I told you, I shouldn’t. I can’t mess up the concert tomorrow.”
What is that concert to you? The reflection shouted from the mirror, slamming her forehooves into the sink. I followed the gesture, refusing to back down. Is it so important that it’s worth losing sleep over it? Is it the only concert you’ll have in the future, or the most important one among many that’ll happen?
“Well, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t asked to do this only a week before the event!” I shouted back, snarling at the mirror. The apparition snarled back. “It isn’t my fault that I spent three nights up in a row!”
You should’ve refused the request, then! You knew full well that there was no way you’d be able to master the piece you were assigned within that one week!
“What is your point?”
My point is that you’re killing both of us. Look at what you’re doing to yourself, to me! Do we both look like ponies healthy enough to perform? You know it yourself; you almost collapsed to the floor on your way here! You’re killing yourself with this, Lyra Heartstrings.
I opened my mouth to retort, but no words came out. My doppelganger seemed to have run out of words to throw at me, for she opened her mouth, too, but didn’t say anything.
I lowered my head in defeat. She was right, after all. My eyes stung, my heart was still banging madly in my chest, my legs felt like jelly, and now I could feel a wave of migraine rushing towards me on the distant horizon. I squeezed my eyes shut as another round of fatigue hit me from behind. I wobbled momentarily, but held out as I mustered all my remaining strength towards my legs.
“What do you suggest, then?” I managed to croak out as my breathing became short, still not daring to open my eyes.
Sleep. Please. You can always tell the others in the morning that you’re not in the shape to perform, her voice echoed in my head.
I shook my head to clear my mind of raging vertigo and looked up as I opened my eyes. Our golden eyes met, staring deep into each other. In those two amber-shaded irises, I could see the weight of the fatigue the pony in the mirror carried. It was a weight that was created by the pony on this side of the mirror, one who was too stubborn to acknowledge the fact that she couldn’t get ready for her concert in time. I had created the weight my reflection carried; I realized then, that I had been torturing my other self towards the brink. And what of myself? Was I not doing the same to myself as well?
Those thoughts flashed through my mind as we stared at each other like that for a long while, neither of us daring to turn our gaze away before we both broke into hysterical laughter, the half-dead pony mimicking my every move and every laugh.
When our laughter died and we calmed down, I whispered to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Then I kissed the unicorn in the mirror and walked out of the bathroom.
I reached out to turn off the lights, then looked back at the mirror. The pony in the mirror looked back at me, the darkness looming behind her as she prepared to head off into the shadows. I smiled at her again, and she smiled back at me. “Sweet dreams,” I whispered to her, then flicked the lights off before closing the door. As the door snapped shut with a final click, I could’ve sworn I heard her voice say, Sweet dreams to you, too.