“Good day ain’t it, Apple Seed?”
“Sure is, Crisp. How’s the fam?”
“Doin’ well, doin’ well. How’s the farm?”
“Same as usual. Trees growin’ the apples and I’m buckin’em down.”
“Day in and day out, huh?”
“Eeyup.”
“Ya think you’re goin’ to get a good haul this season?”
“Absolutely, cuz. Got a new plan going into this season. Gonna rake in the apples this year and finally get out of this place. Away from all those dang unicorns poking their horns into my business.”
“Sounds ambitious. What’s this plan of yours?”
“Well, ya see. I got this new fertilizer.”
Ringing blared from somewhere within the house.
Noteworthy’s eyes snapped open as his mind stumbled into wakefulness. He blearily lifted his head as he attempted to identify the source of the irritating noise. Throwing the covers off of his bed, he clumsily got onto the floor and started making his way towards the sound, his apprehension of the unknown numbed by the early morning hours and his own sleep-addled brain.
From an outside perspective, one would think Noteworthy was a ghost as he sauntered down the corridor. His blue coat and mane blended in with the shadows of the night with his half-opened golden eyes the only indication of his presence.
The cacophony of noise grated on Noteworthy’s nerves as he progressed forward, causing him to grind his teeth. His mind slowly came to life as the unwanted alarm drew him further out of his slumber. It brought forth other annoyances to the forefront of his mind. Leftover thoughts from the day. How the barkeep at the pub he played in short-changed him. How he was purely average in colour and appearance, hammered home by no one ever looking his way. How he never really seemed to live up to his lofty name.
But none of that was as annoying as that damned ringing.
By the time he reached the living area, he was stomping with every step, charging into the room with an angry snort. He found the source quickly enough. Looking past shelves of participation ribbons and third place trophies in piano playing and his personal standing piano to the new corded phone mounted to the wall ringing so hard it almost seemed like it would fall off.
It was brand new. The cutting edge of Equestrian technology. The phone was made up of a long curved rectangle known as the receiver connected by a black spiraling cord to a large carriage that provided the device with energy. All but the cord was made from shiny red metal, the perfect protection against ponies that accidentally fumbled the device while trying to press the buttons on the inside of the receiver.
He yanked the phone off its case angrily, shoving the listening end into his ear. Nothing but a beeping dial tone greeted him.
As a new device, it was prone to some error, so he plugged his other ear with a hoof and listened intently to the sound emitted by the phone in case the phone was still trying to connect.
Faintly, he could hear something indistinct through the loud bleeps. Leaning his head into the receiver he focused on the eerie, indistinct sound, but it couldn’t cut through the overbearing noise of the dial tone. His musically trained ears could make out a melody to the words leading him to conclude that it might be singing, but it wasn’t enough to figure out what exactly it was. Frustration caused Noteworthy to slam the receiver back into its case, too tired to deal with the machine any longer.
He waited for a moment, and, when the phone remained mercifully silent, he returned back to his bedroom to hopefully fall back to sleep.
Noteworthy trotted along the fence line of Sweet Apple Acres blinking languidly in the morning light. He yawned as he took in the vast orchard of apple trees growing tall in the fields. He’d walked this same route for years as one of the Apple family’s few neighbours, and it was a welcome sight after his uneasy sleep following the phone incident. His dreams had been plagued by uneasy whisperings he couldn’t place, whispers that even in broad daylight he could still hear.
Shaking his head to dislodge the murmurings, he perked up as he came to the gates of the orchard proper. One of the Acres’ long-time residents stood nearby.
The stallion was heads above him and built as thick as the trees he tended to. He had a confidence to him that bespoke comfort in both his body and demeanor. Some would call it stoic, but Noteworthy had known this stallion since they were foals. He knew it was because the pony was level-headed and preferred speaking as few words as possible. A shovel was slung over one shoulder, held by a massive hoof. He looked out into the orchard, his indifferent expression scanning over his dominion.
A true pony of note, Noteworthy thought. Bitterness left over from the frustrations of the morning. He shook his head once more to clear the dark fog around his mind and waved companionably to the stallion.
“Morning, Mac,” Noteworthy greeted.
He got a curt nod in response.
“Digging some holes today?” Noteworthy asked, forcing a friendly tone to his voice despite his exhaustion.
“Just one,” Mac replied.
“What for?”
“Expansion.”
“For some new trees?”
“Yeah.” Mac scowled. “For the trees.”
Curiosity demanded that Noteworthy ask about Mac’s expression, but he knew the stallion valued his privacy so instead he said, “I’ll leave you to it then. See you later, Mac.”
Resuming his trot towards town, he stopped after a few steps when he heard a loud grunt from behind him. He turned to see Mac looking at him intently. “Tired?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Noteworthy answered, blinking in surprise. Mac had never started a conversation with him before. “My phone started ringing early this morning.”
“What for?”
“Nothing. Just the dial tone,” Noteworthy continued. “Though…” he trailed off, stopping himself just before he voiced his concern over the singing he had thought he heard. He didn’t know why he did, but something told him not to tell Mac about it.
Mac stared intently at Noteworthy, his gaze causing Noteworthy to tap his hooves uncomfortably on the ground. “Though?” Mac questioned.
“I thought I heard singing,” Noteworthy answered, Mac’s scrutiny causing him to break.
“Singing,” Mac stated.
“Like a chorus line,” Noteworthy continued. Realizing that Mac might not know what that was, he explained, “it’s usually a large group of dancers, but can also be attributed to—”
“A group of singers. I’m in an acapella group. I’m aware,” Mac admonished.
“R-right,” Noteworthy stuttered. “Anyways, I thought I had heard that over the beeps, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure.”
Mac was quiet for a moment, clenching his jaw. “Well, be careful,” Mac eventually said, an unknown edge to his tone. “You might hear something you shouldn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Noteworthy asked, puzzled.
“Exactly what I said. Have a good shift at the pub, Note.”
With his piece said, Mac trotted off into the orchard. Noteworthy watched him be swallowed by the rows of trees as he tried to decipher the meaning of Mac’s cryptic words.