My heart was beating.
I chugged down my mug of coffee I was gripping in my telekinetic grip, then put the cup 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 lines and its 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 then let it out, then began to play. Soon the soft, soothing notes swirled around me, wrapping me in its warm embrace that always made me feel at home. I closed my eyes and let 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 airmat, the waves splashing at the edges drowning out the music as bright sunlight gently warmed me to sleep, enough so that I started to doze—
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 bright enough to light up just 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 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.
I carefully moved the harp away from my stool and stood up. 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 slowly turned it open, revealing a pitch black hallway beyond.
I took a quick glance behind me, first at my music stand and my harp, then at my bed that sat right next to me. 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, at 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, however, and I knew that better than anyone else. For the moment I slide into my bed, I would most certainly end up sleeping until the Sun shone upon my face and ruin my concert scheduled in the morning.
As I hobbled 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 heart. I could feel the organ, my one and only source of life, thrumming madly against my ribcage, trying to beat its way out of the constricting prison it had found itself in. My eyes stung, giving me an unpleasant feeling despite me profusely trying to blink out whatever dust that got into them.
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 beating madly 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. But slowly the 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. After rinsing my face and wiping the water off with a towel, the half-dead pony reappeared in the mirror.
I stared at her, and she stared back at me. We stared at each other for several minutes before we both broke into hysterical laughter, the half-dead pony mimicking my every move and every laughter.
And so when our laughters died and we calmed down, I whispered to her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”