//------------------------------// // Creation // Story: Tinkering of the soul // by Dragonlover77 //------------------------------// “What’s a pony to do?” Whined Timestop, as she brought her right hoof to her chin, and rest her head. The young mare leaned over her cash register as she forced an over exasperated sigh, that blew dust up and over the edge of her front counter, and down onto the welcome mat. The mat didn’t have any quote, nor did it have any gesture of hospitality, it simply kept dirt from collecting too far into the store. Her front lip protruded as she played with the keys that nestled inside the lock to her cash drawer. Money had been fantastic during the holidays, it seemed as if everypony needed their watch fixed, a wall clock mounted, something engraved with a special someponies name, or simply to come in and get a quote on a custom commission, and then follow through the next day. But as January came to an end, not a single pony had come in since the beginning of the year. Lifting her head up slowly and swaying her right hoof to her side, she took a quick glance of the outside before heading to the back. Timestop couldn’t help but grin though, it was about that time. 6pm only came once a day, so she scurried to the back. She mentally counted down the exact seconds till 6pm, and when she reached 58 seconds, she was at the back of the store. Nostalgia sent a powerful wave over her as she glanced outside, daylight savings time had been day before yesterday, so the sun was starting to set just over Manehatten’s mountains. Nopony could have ever understood the level of depth Timestop felt at 59 seconds, as chills ran down and over her body like thunder. A millisecond before 6pm, she nudged a rather large wind chime, to start off the ballad. At 6pm the first clock to chime was a small hummingbird pocket watch, crisp, clean, and high pitched. Immediately after, the first rod of the wind chime stroke against one of its siblings, drowning the room in a deep and shaking tone of jubilant harmony. And then it happened. Timestop waved a hoof as an orchestrator would guide a choir, and the room’s acoustics were put to the limit, as every clock began to ring and knell. Different tones filled the air, some warm and full of joy, others isolated and seemingly troubled. Each clock and watch, all 142 of them, had a different personality and emotion when they were alive with the sound of music. Timestop could almost see the hymns in the air, mingling as party guests. She could imagine the deepest of tones in uplifted rhythm with neutral harmonious tones, such as the ones that came from her best timekeepers. The wind chimes were their music that they took pleasure from. The higher pitches were socializing and mingling, while some of her tone deaf watches were clowns, too full of punch to do anything other than be obnoxious. But all together, they were complete. They were all in succession, and they would always take Timestop’s breath away. After a full minute of marvelous and intense soul, Timestop felt the echo of the last two lovers. Her wind chime hummed and her largest grandfather clock groaned out the last tune for the night, dancing into a parallel time and place, where music was alive and well. As air tunneled out through her nostrils, Timestop pressed a small button to her left with her muzzle. The lights in the front dimmed down to nothing, and the front door locked. If silence were a color, it would be black. She stood still in the darkness for a moment, contemplating where life was taking her, and if she was content to spend her lazy days wishing for company and something to do. She didn’t know how long it would last, or how much money she’d need to do what she wanted, or if she even knew what she wanted. Why was something as common as money such an issue? 2 bits for 3 apples, 4 bits for a loaf of bread, 1 bit for a head of lettuce, 1 bit for a basket of cherries, 6 bits for soft drinks and goodies, 10 bits for miscellaneous groceries, 400 bits for the rent, 210 for utilities, and the rest was lost in between. Her savings were enough to cover her bills for another 7 months, and if not, she could still cut back and last until the Holidays once more. What use is there though in just existing? Timestop trotted mournfully to her bedroom, not caring to see the pile of stockings that were piled up in her kitchen. She pushed her door open, and as sedentary as she had been that day, she felt exhausted. She was discouraged from doing anything productive, even from tinkering with her latest hobby, steampony jewelry. She had taken broken gears and watch hands from several clocks, and glued them carefully to different things, making custom bracelets, pendants, and rings. She also glued them to her refrigerator, cash register, bed frame, and other household items. She felt like a filly with stickers and could not contain herself; she wanted to express her artistic freedom. Her best piece though, was something she had been working on since business came to a halt. A magnifying glass, small torch, an exacto knife, a few gems, and a bottle of wishful thinking magic she had bought in Canterlot a few years ago had made something really special. She had taken the face of a pocket watch, and buffed each side so all that was shown was scratched copper. She then artfully placed the gears across the front of the pendent, one large, one medium sized, and then one small. She put two small hands from a smaller pocket watch on the face, one facing north, the other facing west. The larger hand came next, found from a small wall clock that she had taken in as a trade in. That hand faced south east. The blow torch settled the embellishments where the glue would not, and also gave the work in progress a tarnished glaze. With a small tooth pick, she placed the emerald gems in 7 different spots, careful to not clutter her soon to be finished masterpiece. Timestop then dipped her thin bristled paintbrush into a settling primer with shimmer. Now that the glue was dry and the heat from the torch had cooled, she stroked once over the entirety of the set and was almost finished. She pushed the pendant around her work station, and put it under different magnifying applications, to see if there were any details that needed fixing, or any clumps of glue that needed careful removal. Everything had fortunately set nicely, other than a small clear drop of glue that had dried just to the left of an emerald. With the exacto knife she carefully cut the glue away, and it was gotten rid of with ease. Then came the bottle of wishful thinking, something she had been eager to use since she bought it. Wishful thinking had been something described to her as “Secrets of the soul” from the merchant that she purchased it from. She remembered the booth with awe, it was filled with glass bottles of every shape and size, with loose and sticky liquids of darkest of night and brightest of Cloudsdales rainbows. Traveling vendors, brokers, and artists of the like came to Canterlot around the time of the Grand Galloping Gala, knowing that business would spike from the amount of tourists that traveled from all over Equestria to see the Princess. The Princess wasn’t the only reason for ponies young and old to come to Canterlot though. Since the arrival of the elements of harmony, the return of Luna, and the fall of Discord, tourists practically came running to every Gala. Everypony hoped for a chance of meeting the element bearers and their beloved Princess Luna. Since these events, business and sales had raised exponentially. Timestop had been fortunate enough to be there for the 1st Gala after Luna’s return and the founding of the elements once more. There was so much to look at, so much that had not been there the years previous. There were replicas of the princess’s regalia, pony plushies, custom dress’s and clothes designed after Rarity’s beauty and passion line, gemstones galore, and much more. Timestop remembered that she must have spent 600 bits, which was her profit for that week. She was a happy pony at that time, for when business was good, it was great. She had bought several pairs of stockings, for she hated for her hooves to get dirty. The feeling of dirty tootsies gave Timestop the heebie jeebies. The Merchant she met was a Zebra, whose name she could not pronounce. She loved to listen to her talk though, for she spoke in metaphors. Everything was a poem with her black and white vendor, especially the merchandise. “This potion is your dreams awake, your soul elated and animated. Like a river dancing with the wind, wishing to join but forever grounded unless reincarnated, forever to lose past memories. Use on yourself only in times of desperate directionless, and use on items of empowerment and meaning. Sentience is a gift of birth, not a right. Young mare, this potion is the discarded essence of wishful thinking, thus is its name.” 30 bits later and 1 potion, Timestop slipped the bottle into her saddle, and trotted away with a thrilled visage. Being an earthpony, Timestop was unable to conjure her own magic, and unable to fly up into the clouds, to bottle up a rainbow and brew her own. Even if she could get a bottle of liquid rainbow, she wouldn’t know what to do with it other than think of it as a unique feature to her home. The only thing she knew about magic, was that if one was to brew, they would need a base, and the most popular base was rainbow fresh from a cloud. The ripest rainbows of course, were found only in Cloudsdale. She learnt that from a small seminar on magic in Manehattan. The bottle of wishful thinking had set high on a shelf in her bedroom, glowing similar to that of a fire fly. The bottle shifted color anonymity, and right now, it was illuminating the area it was in a soft pink. Timestop reached up for it, carefully bringing it down and setting it next to her augmentation. She had never opened the bottle. Not out of fear, but out of respect. She wanted to only use it as the Zebra instructed, and she felt now was the time. “I’ve always wondered what this stuff would smell like.” Timestop whispered to herself, as she pulled the cork off of the potion. A small puff of mist arose from the bottle, the color leaving the potion and forming in the aroma. The liquid went clear, and Timestop sucked up the scent through her nose. The essence was conscience with the smell of all of Timestops favorite things. She could smell Cherries, roses, mud, pavement after a hard rain, and more. She blinked a few times, the scent potent and not dying down. She looked at the bottle steadily, lifted it up, and let out a small drop onto her pendant. She waited, eagerly, for some spectacular reaction. Several minutes went by, and her excitement grew to boredom, and then disappointment. She frowned, and put the cork back into the bottle, and placed it up where it belonged. “Cheap Zebra, probably filled these with water, scented oil, and some vanishing color spell.” She said sarcastically. Timestop fumbled around looking for the back of the watch that she had taken apart to make her jewelry. She found it behind a cup that held her paint brushes. She then began to buff it, and solder it back together with the front piece. When she was halfway through, she felt a surge run through her body, and zap her like lightning. “Ow!!!” she screeched, as she lightly tossed the pendant aside, looking at the singed hair on her hoof. “Hmph! Stupid tool! I should just throw you…” before she could finish her sentence, the pendant grew hostile, and started to shake frantically. It vibrated across her work table, bumping into her different tools. She followed it closely with her eyes, not wanting it to fall on the ground, but not wanting to touch it in fear of it shocking her again. The vibrating grew stronger, and soon it started to bounce up and down in a lopsided manner. It stretched and skewed, and at one time it reached a full foot across! Seemingly tormented, the item continued on its war path, now hissing and whistling like a tea pot. The hissing continued as it began to quiver and quake, as a child might cry and be unable to breathe after being caught doing something it shouldn’t have. Timestop was overwhelmed with concern and doubt as she watched the scene take place. Tortured as the now lively trinket might be, she knew she had to put a stop to its anger and suffering. Timestop reached out and fearlessly palmed her creation, she didn’t it to destroy her work area, but it was more than that. It was a connection, it was a sadness so deep that even a widowed mare or a lost foal could not understand. The level of shame was corrupt, and the dread that she felt was worse than torture next to death. In one touch, she felt every memory she had ever had upon her. It was a plague that was now unavoidable. She saw things that she never knew or could have remembered, and questioned if they were real. Questions upon questions faced her, whispers in the dark, and shouts in the day. The pony felt lost and full of despair, as if all she knew was betrayal. Every memory she had was being played for her on a screen, and she was a small pony, sitting upon a pedestal, viewing her life all at once, for 1 second. In that 1 second. she saw what was real. All at once she wanted it to stop, and secretly never wanted it to end. Her mind then fogged, and she was released from herself. The absolution was brutal, and almost sexual. She felt her body close to climax, and she was covered in cold sweats. She panted, and looked down, and to her astonishment, the pendant had slightly shrunk in size, and was now glowing a faint teal. The glow reminded her of the energy that was made up of Celestia and Luna’s mane, it was beautiful. It billowed slowly, and only radiated off of the trinket about an inch. Intimidated by her creation, she reached for her invention carefully and slowly. Now in the palm of her hoof, she felt calm, loved, and complete. It was as if while she was hit with everything, she was hit with nothing at all. Her mind felt peaceful, as if she understood, even if there was nothing to understand. She smiled a dreamy smile, the now enchanted achievement of steampony jewelry that she held gave her the greatest sense of belonging. Timestop shook her head of the memory, and groggily slumped onto her bed. She rest her head on her favorite pillow, one that she had had for over 10 years. The pillow was black and covered with drool stains, and had a few holes in its case. She looked at her glowing animation, the illumination swaying with no force. She still had one thing to do with it, and figured now would be the great time to do so, if she hadn’t have just lay down on her bed. She knew that once she touched the jewel she’d be motivated, and more than likely stay up all night tinkering. The same could go for a pony work out, once you start you don’t want to stop, and you feel great afterwards, but it’s starting that’s hard. Timestop cursed under her breath, and forced herself to get up. “I have to pee anyways.” She said aloud, as she glanced over at her pillow. “Don’t worry, we’ll make love soon enough. I just have to do a few things, okay?” she smiled to herself, and hurried away to the little ponies room.