The days are getting…better.
Better as in things are going on an upward trend.
Over the past couple of days your once useless arm is now, as Fluttershy deems it, ‘fully healed.’ Though saying that your right arm is fully healed is a little too optimistic. It healed sure, however it's still, maybe permanently stiff and doesn't rotate as it used to. It’s interesting that somehow with a stroke of luck you were able to survive being maimed by a Manticore. But that’s okay.
It’s okay because you are safe. You are taken care of by Fluttershy. This place is nice and pleasant. What more can you ask for? Well besides answers to why and how you are here. But you have a feeling that will come eventually.
For the past couple of weeks you have become well adjusted from being scared shitless about this world, to now just living and accepting that this is now the way things are, thanks to the assistance of Fluttershy. Those were the good bits in your new life.
Your life has been getting better, now that you have restored autonomy with the restoration of your arm. Fluttershy leaves you to your own devices. However even now with your recovery, she still checks up on you from time to time. Maybe it's her instinct to be overbearing with her animals. But you get the little victories when you can.
Though this life still has its bad bits.
The partial language barrier with Fluttershy and the complete barrier with her friends is still a hassle to get around. On top of that, even though you can make your own decisions, Fluttershy always keeps you on a medium size leash so to speak. You can venture outside of the cottage, and to the very edge of the Everfree Forest, but that is as far as you can go without being wrangled up by the peaky flying animal loving pony. But It's fine you can just be entertained by the animals that Fluttershy takes care of for the time being.
You greatly underestimated the amount of animals this one pony manages. And oh boy, you thought the smell of animals on the inside was something to get used to. No no, Fluttershy keeps so many animals it might as well be considered a sanctuary. Which is strange, as far as you know eagles, bats, otters, flamingos are not endangered in any shape or way. Or maybe it's an odd relationship where she gets recharged from taking care of animals, and the animals are well taken care of. It's admirable to say the least.
You are watching her now, basking in the sun with a blanket around yourself. Fluttershy is humming to herself in a tune you don’t recognize; attending to some chickens giving them grains to peck on.
You find it interesting that somehow throughout the day she has a strict schedule of what animals need to be taken care of and at what time, all in a timely manner. It was truly something special to see it unfold in front of your eyes.
Fluttershy has become accustomed to you just kind of watching her routines. At first she thought it was was predatory behavior coming from you, what with your canine teeth and watchful gaze. However you made no such move to maim anything. Soon after she just accepted that you are a very observant and curious critter.
Your eyes wander to a pair of bats in a nearby tree. They were hanging upside down and seemed to be chittering to each other. Maybe their conversation was on the lines of ‘Hey Bob, did you see the size of that bug Tommy caught?’ And the other one responded, ‘Oh I saw that man, he got himself a good one. Maybe we should check out that spot,’ or whatever bats talk about.
You chuckle at the absurdity of talking bats casually talking about their day. Your grin, but then there was a sinking feeling that weighed down that grin. A punishment of some sorts. Slowly turning into a disappointed frown. Sadness crept into your heart.
It must be nice to just shoot the shit with someone. You kind of do with Fluttershy from time to time, but let's face it, it's just a one way conversation that leads to more frustrations than genuine conversation.
You get the feeling that maybe you talked to other people before you came here. Maybe. You don’t remember. Though Fluttershy humming did remind you about that massive headache a couple of days ago. This memory seemed so familiar to you. You are convinced it's a clue to your past. Were you a musician before you came here? It seems like it. But how would you know?
You listen to her hum and you get an idea.
Fuck it.
You look up to Fluttershy. You listen closely as she continues to hum and feed the local birds in the apple trees.
You begin to listen.
Listen.
Find the melody...
Listen…
Focus on her voice.
Bring it into your very being.
Focus…
…Focus…
…
There it is.
You can start to visualize her humming as written notes. And with this visual something deep down just gets it.
Taking a deep breath, you let loose a low and warm baritone tone carry Fluttershy's voice. You start out softly, to test your tone. Yup, that sounds just about right time to step up your humming game.
Taking Another deeper breath, one that fills your lungs and belly. You start out slow, trying to be the foundation for Fluttershy higher soprano range. You tune in on the tempo and rhythm. When she is on the down beat, you give her some spice and you sneak in some simple scat on the up beat. On some long phrases you end it off with a vibrato that you didn’t know you had in you. You close your eyes to really focus.
So far so good. You get the feeling you did this before, or at least know how to make music?
Now you start to put more emphasis on your scatting, gently rising, but still the foundation to Fluttershy, but now you are going to sweep in and take the lead.
You don’t know the tune but you can feel it in your soul. You improvise by adding your own flavor to it. You feel yourself get to your feet, increase your dynamic tone to be even louder and louder.
Then in your mind's eye, a slurry of colors begins to take shape. First it's hard to see what is being from but more time passes and now you know where you are. You have been here before. You know you have. But where? Where is this place?
You stand before a crowd of people, your hands holding…something blurry and abstract, but you know it has some kind of mouthpiece. Your hands are sweaty and your knees begin to shake. But thankfully you have clothes. Clothes that are considered fancy. Black slacks, white collared button up shirt with a navy blue handkerchief folded neatly in your breast pocket that obscured your shaking body. Taking the abstracted object into your mouth, you blow into it. Somehow you just know how this object works.
Then you hear it. No make it, you begin to make it.
Music.
Music starts to flow out into the crowd that gathered for you. They are all enamored by your beautiful tone. You played slowly and your piece meandered from one phrase to another. The dynamics of it were soft and quiet. With each phrase that you passed you begin to loosen up, as if you just took a shot of fine whisky to your belly, but of your soul, your entire being.
Now that you got their attention, it's time to bring up the tempo.
The change was subtle, long phrases with vibrato shifted to short and sharp phrases that demanded heat and energy to it. The crowd saw you bobbed your heads as the music shifted. It's not enough. You need more energy from them. You tap, no, stomp your feet to the beat as you raise your dynamics filling the entire chamber with your rich sound. Now the music jumped and danced with the ears of the audiences as if it was on fire and filled with passion and desire to be seen. To be heard.
To be admired.
People began to get to their feet, clapping in sync to your stomping. Their faces, their attention, all of it was in the palm of your hand.
You will not disappoint them.
You can not disappoint them.
You took this opportunity to let loose even more. With your lower half you start to dance stepping left, then right, then left again using your hips to convey your rhythm and energy of your piece. You get the courage to use the whole stage as your play space, a canvas of your audible creation.
You are halfway there now. Your movement becomes more exaggerated taking more and more of your performance space.
Let the show really begin.
As if on you the curtains behind you raise, there one of your friends was on the drums. Putting down a basic beat for you. And just on cue you turn into a different phase.
The drummer rolls off the snare and strikes the high hat. Perfect, now it's time to soar into the stratosphere!
You you fully enthralled by your music now, not giving a damn what people think of your dumb dance moves. You are taking these folks on a journey and you a re the helmsmen. You look stupid with your dancing but...
Fuck it.
This.
This was worth the judgment from your peers.
This, this is why you spent so many hours on this damn thing. Many long days and nights practicing, perfecting your craft.
This, right here, right now is an open middle finger to everyone in your life who thinks that the thing you are holding right in this moment is a waste of time, resources and money.
Well fuck 'em.
Fuck all of them.
You're doing this for you, and for them that came to see you.
The melodies you play are erratic, reaching higher and higher. Your lungs are burning as you focus on pushing yourself and the instrument to its limits. The crowd knows you must be coming to the finish line; they roar and cheer, stomping and clapping to the heightened beat.
This is it.
As you reach the finale you're gonna completely go all in on your instrument making sounds that only you dream of making, maybe even professionals that practice their entire lives to make it on a night like this. You arpeggio higher and higher and higher….
Until...
You end your pieces with an incredible high note with such intense vibrato that you could swear you can break a wine glass with it. You hear your drummer friend knowing this was the finale and hype your experiences by filling the space with a drum solo. You look at each other and with a silent agreement, you end your performance.
The crowd roars and cheers that threaten to make you deaf. They are cheering for you, chanting your name but you can't quite make it out. You are breathing incredibly hard and shaking from the adrenaline that is flowing through your veins. Wow, they like it, the really like it.
A goofy smile could not be erased from your face. You look back at your friend, he is standing and clapping for you. You smile back and you take a bow at the adoring audiences. You mouth out thank you to them before you exit stage right. The curtains fall and as soon as you are out of eye sight, you collapse gasping for air that your burning longs demanded for the past hour.
“Windle? W-windle are you…that was…”
You open your blurry eyes. You blink and regain focus. You see Fluttershy completely in awe and slack jawed at you. You feel wetness running down your cheek. You reach to whip your eye. Am I crying? You don’t know if Fluttershy is mad or happy that you took over her humming.
She finally responded, “Windle that was amazing! I didn’t know you could sing!” She rapped her forehooves together making a clopping sound. This is the closest thing to an applause in this world.
Well she was happy, no, ecstatic at your performance. She really likes it. You can see it in her big widened eyes and her gentle smile. That cute, huggable smile.
You felt heat flush your face, “Oh thanks, I um, not lot of people dig my singing…” you stop yourself from continuing, knowing full well that she doesn’t and still won’t, understand what you are saying. Your heart sank a little, the sadness started to rear its ugly head once more.
“I didn't know you where such an expressive guy, oh that's wonderful maybe we ca-"
You stopped her in her tracks. As you walked over to her and in one fell swoop, grasped her from her hovering position to bring her into a full hug. Fluttershy gasps and tenses in your arms, but relaxes as you realize what you are doing.
Emotions stir within you. You feel yourself on the verge of a damn of tears ready to collapse from the weight of your inner turmoil. Your chest was shaking as you tried to suppress your feelings deep down into your self.
Fluttershy comforts you. "Ahhh it's okay Windle, you don't have to be embarrassed. I think you did wonderful. Many of the critters like to sing. Maybe you should sing with them in the morning?" She uses her forehooves to gently pat your back.
Of course she doesn't understand.
Of course.
No one does.
No one gets it. No one around this land knows how it feels to be so alone, no matter how many times you try to talk to Fluttershys.
Or the birds.
Or the chicken.
Or that perverted lavender pony.
Or that fuckin' bear that gives you the stink eye.
No one.
Not a single soul here knows how it feels to be absolutely alone and unable to say to somebody else, 'Hey I am feeling like shit and I want to talk to someone. Anyone. Please.'
None.
You put down Fluttershy and turn your back towards her.
"Windle?" She asks you, but you just start walking away.
You need to take a walk.
You walk down the path and over the bridge. You clenching your blanket taught against yourself. You don't know where you are going, you just keep walking.
This place is awful. Terrible. Completely degrading to you.
You are a fool to think that just because your physical needs are taken care of that you can just pretend that that's all you need to survive. No you need real connection, you need somebody to be around and just shoot the shit.
You need someone to be your friend.
You stop yourself at the edge of the thick foliage of the Everfree. It somehow just sucks the light out of the surrounding area. You sink down and sulk into your thoughts just gazing into the hellhole you survived weeks ago.
You feel yourself slip into a deep trance.
"HELP, SOMEBODY HELP!"
You blink. Then blink again.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE. HEEEEEEEEEEELLLLP!!"
You jump to your feet. Somebody is screaming for help. Somebody that you understand. That can only mean one thing in your mind.
Someone, not a pony, but a person, an actual person, is screaming bloody murder. Screaming for you to help them. You bite your lip in thought.
You are not a hero, not even the closest thing to being a hero, and the last time you were in there, you almost died.
…
God fucking damnit!
You threw all caution into the wind and you sprint into the hellscape following the screams of terror
If there is someone here, then you will be damned to let them go through what you had to go through all because of one simple idea.
And that idea is…
Being alone really sucks.