My friend, Vinyl Scratch, has been acting singularly queer of late; a far different kind of queerness than her usual eccentricities, of which I have become rather accustom to, I feel.
Vinyl, as I have come to know her since our becoming flatmates in our appartment in Manehatten, both attending the university here for music, since about a year ago, and consequently becoming close friends, despite our vast differences in taste of music and our almost ironic--nearly to the point of being humourous--polar differences in personality, that she is a "wild night-life" kind of mare--one more to be seen at parties than at any real performance, musically, at least. She enjoys loud dub-step and other similar modern music I have no inclination towards; she is lazy in school work and chores--she will not even lift herself up to get herself some food if it means her disturbing her idly-comfortable position on the couch, and will instead call out to me to get her this and that, which I sometimes will oblige to do, and others, kick her off the couch and suggest that she would do better to get it herself; however, when it comes to her music, particularly a new piece she wants to premier some weekend at such and such an underground club in such and such a place in Manehatten or even the university grounds (without permission, of course, because "what fun would it be if I had to go through all that boring junk to get approval?"), she will work at it every waking chance she gets--though, of course, her "working" is chiefly making "wubs" with her voice and mouth, and stomping around making the beat--but she still goes at it with such great ferver; and she simply loves to be loud and have fun (the latter of which I actually rather admire and find charming--when it's not destructive... which it is most of the time...).
Vinyl's favorite place in the world is in the city, where everypony can hear her music; indeed, she is quite the famous DJ in Manehatten ("For now, until the time comes when I finish school and tearing this place apart--then I'll travel around doing gigs all over Equestia, leaving destruction in my musical wake!" so she says), and has even begun taking on the illustrious stage name: DJ PON-3. Without much need being said on the matter, she is all about electronic music, vinyl-disc srcatching; and when at home, perfers to lock herself in her studio-room all day and long into the night, mixing and recording records, no matter how much I protest that she needs fresh air. She even keeps a small refrigerator full with food and drinks, and a bucket in a far corner of her room for--... ewww, you know what it's for--so she doesn't have to leave her room while she listens to her obnoxiously loud music or while she is working on new obnoxiously loud music. And when she's not at school or in her studio, she's laying in front of the TV, or solcializing with other ponies at clubs or some such places, or is playing DJ at someplace. She hates classical music (my music), hates romance, and loathes nature.
She's completely mental, but consistant.... So why in all the wide world of Equestria is she sneaking out at night and sneaking back early in the morning, returning smelling not of sweat, bad food, and hot wires, but instead, of sweet grasses and pines?
When she first came sneaking in one early morning, appearently hoping I was still asleep, and I smelt the natural aroma wisping off her mane, I imediately inquired of it. And Vinyl, usually so quick to tell me all about anything, whether it be the "killer" time she had that night, or what she was working on for music, or the stupidity of school, or any other number of things that ignited a passion in her, instead merely stood silent and dumbfounded before rapidly muttering something incoherent and rushing off into her room, slamming the door and turning up her music. I initialy dismissed it all without much thought.
However, over the next week this continued in a similar vein, and I also began noticing new strange behaviours in her, and my suspitions grew.
I've more than once heard her being especially quiet in her room--way to quiet for DJ PON-3, even if she was alseep, for she does snore rather loudly. Once durring these moments, I put my ear to her door and could hear her making sounds, though repressed so as not to be so easily heard. They were a new kind of sound for her to make--it sounded like... voices? Singing? I knocked on her door and could hear her falling off her chair before she turned on her music and answered the door, sweating nervously. When I asked her about what she was just doing, she denied doing anything, and defensively said she had to work, and slammed the door in my face, with a "Don't bother me while I'm working!"
As we walked to classes, I noticed she would take now two brisk steps to my every four relaxed steps. And instead of lagging behind as usual, she now out-paced me by far to the point where she had to wait a considerable amount of time for me to catch up with her.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Tavi. I'm not walking fast; I'm just... walking. You must be walking slower. Keep up!"
And as we climbed the many stairs in the university, the stairs that would always leave us out of breath and tired at the top, she did not only now outstrip me in climbing them, but, at the top of the stairs, was still full of energy and not tired at all!
"What? They're just stairs, Tavi; and it's only walking. How tiring can that be, eh?"
What's more, ponies in school seem to have begun to notice changes in her as well: "Vinyl's been more awake than normal in classes lately." "She's been abnormally quiet." "When I've talked to her, she's been very attentive to what I've had to say--no more loud outbursts or any kind of interruption from her." "I've heard her echoing song-like sounds in the bathrooms when she thinks no one is around." "I haven't seen her at our usual table lately durring lunch--know where she's gone off too?" "I've seen her sitting by the window, looking up at the sky." "Can you believe I saw Vinyl reading! Crazy, I know, right?" "Late at night, I've seen her wandering toward the forests and fields outside Manehatten--" "No way! Is that where she's been running off to?" "I thought she must be up to something funny when I hadn't seen her at her usual late night spots around the city." "I hope she hasn't gotten hurt. Weird animal sounds are supposed to be heard there--like monsters!" "Anyone try asking if she's okay?" "She only ignores any such approaches to breach that matter--" "Maybe she's got herself a special somepony?" "I could only imagine what he or she might be like to have such a strong influence on her, if she does."
I know Vinyl--that is, if I know her the way I do--and I am completely, entirely possitive she would not let anypony, even that special somepony, change her to such an extreme extent as this.... But, as far as all that is from her normal personality, nothing could prepare me for what happened next.
At the end of the week, I performed on stage in front of a full house of ponies in the university concert hall; and I saw, of all ponies, her in the midst of that sophisticated crowd. She was not asleep, nor ill entertained, but entirely entrawled! When I bowed at the end of my piece, I locked eyes with her, and she slumped down and disapeared into the rising, applauding crowd.
That was it! She never so much as passed by my recitals if it risked any possibility of overhearing it, nor, let alone, even stood to hear me talk of them ("Oh, gosh! It's all so boooooooring!"). Why did she now so suddenly start to attend?!
I was resolved to find out, and if I could, without her knowing, for I knew she would only deny it; so when she snuck out, as was now her wont when she thought I was alseep, I laid patiently waiting 'till I thought she wouldn't come back, and then went to her room door, which she had carelessly left unlocked. Perhaps I could find out about what she was doing evident in there.
I don't know what scared me more; that her room was cleaner than I have ever seen it before (I admit, though, that is still was rather messy) and that she had even thrown out her 'waste-bucket', or that her favorite, trade-mark sunglasses lay carelessly on the floor, covered in dust, which could only mean one thing: she wasn't out DJ-ing--and appearedntly hasn't been for quite some time! I know my best friend; she would never, ever, never, ever, ever stop doing the one thing she loved with all her heart and soul--that obnoxious, loud, insane, just-plain-noise thing that I actually, sorta... liked hearing her play.... Something is definately wrong with my Vinyl Scratch! I imediately snatched my coat from my room, rushed out our appartment, and galloped with all my might straight for the fields and forest she was said to wander to.