//------------------------------//
// 6. Surreality 
// Story: The Best Songs Come From the Soul 
// by Quicksear 
//------------------------------//

My eyes opened in the early pre-dawn light, but my mind was a few seconds late. I had taken in the familiar walls and ceiling of the lounge before I remembered myself, but when I did, the comfort of being somewhere so familiar was replaced with near terror.

Why am I in Vinyl’s lounge, on Vinyl’s couch?

I froze, trying to work out why and when I had ended up here. Yesterday...oh Celestia, yesterday. I couldn't believe all that had happened. I lost myself slightly within the memories, but then I got to the long minutes I’d spent at Vinyl’s door. I twisted over to see said door in the hall, and I could make out the timbers from where I lay, the wood split where I had kicked it. For some reason, that is what made it all the more real to me, that which before had still felt surreal. I’d been kicking at that door, trying to get in, and now, I couldn’t quite remember how I had succeeded.

I couldn’t remember anything past watching the sun go down while I waited at Vinyl’s door. 

I tried to to leap up, but my hooves did not respond correctly, my left hind leg failing to support my weight at all. I fell to the floor as pain lanced up from the inside of my thigh, burning high into my side. I rolled over and grasped the leg, gritting my teeth until the burning stopped, then inspected the inside of my leg with fearful eyes.

A hole. A wound, perfectly round and deceptively deep, was burrowed into the flesh of my thigh, the sensitive skin feeling as though it had been burnt with fire. Or alcohol. I tried to stretch my leg, but the lancing pain returned with the same fervour it had attacked me with before. I refused to scream, in  stubbornness or fear I do not know, but the silence only emphasized its own death.

I was lying on the floor of Vinyl Scratch’s house, groaning in pain, and then I heard music. A single, deep note, so clear in its resonance, pure, dragged on just long enough that I could place it as the tone of a double bass. Then more string-born notes wove themselves into the tectonic vibrations of the bass, which morphed slowly into something more electronic and foreboding. A beat grew from the slow beginnings, and as its tempo increased the pitch of the strings climbed, woven with synthetic sounds into a tapestry so deep it felt like a shroud. And it didn't stop. The volume built as well, shuddering the very floor I lay on, setting me shivering. I remained still, frozen, like a rabbit under the glare of a wolf, unaware of all else but the climbing music, but then it changed. The bass leveled out, and the treble rose higher and higher. Suddenly the bass dropped, blowing away my self-control, even under the screeching accompaniment of a pack of violins.

I hurtled to the door, unmindful of my now bleeding wound, and tried to open it, but at the barest touch, I felt the static dancing through my coat, stronger than before. The door was closed to me: I would have to escape another way.

I glanced at all the windows: closed, locked, even barred. I could not buck my way out, not with my leg the way it was. From where I stood in the front hall, I could see into both the lounge and the dining room. The kitchen and ground floor bedroom were further back, but both had smaller, high windows that I knew would be just as impassable.

That left me with the worst of choices. Upstairs, there were many large windows, letting glorious light into the bedrooms I had once used. Now they were my salvation, my escape from that eerie, driving, terrifying music. But, to get to those portals to freedom, I would have to get to the hall stairs, right next to the basement door.

The pit of my nightmare.

I stared down the hallway. The door that had never opened to me was staring back, a faint light seeping from the gaps around its edges, pulsing in time with the screeching violins and pounding bass, just another sense being assaulted by the electrifying symphony. But it was that very music that finally drove me to move. It was stimulating, forcing me to act upon my thoughts. My hooves moved before I was ready, and I was galloping towards that door, tears streaming down my face every time my injured leg bore my weight, but I was animated by the sound, the light, and the slowly opening door.

It did not open much. Even as I scrabbled at the first stair, I couldn't help but stare at the gap that had opened, spilling it’s light across the hall. And there, dividing the flashes like shadow, was one glowing red iris, marred by a single tear.

I couldn't stay. For the brief second that I saw her eye coloured crimson, I wanted to. I wanted to stay and offer the help her gaze begged, but her music warned me otherwise. It commanded me to leave, As I struggled up the stairs, I saw the door widen, a shock of blue mane falling to, and her lips whispering my name.

Its yours

I made the landing. the second our eye contact was broken, I whipped my head up and glanced at each window, all of them barred. A sob escaped my lips as I struggled further and further from the warning sounds of Vinyl’s song, but it rose to follow me.

It’s your song

The main bedroom door was locked, my old room’s window barred with the frame of my old bed, and the window at the end of the landing was nailed shut. I charged into the upper music room door, jarring it open and numbing my shoulder, but that wasn’t what made me pause. The overwhelming scent of oil and copper struck me like a wall, and I saw reams of used bandages wrapped neatly atop blown-out speakers and partially disassembled equipment I could never name. It didn’t matter, though. because the window was wide open.

Why don’t you like your song...?

I brushed past the dangling contraptions and stained rags, rushing to get to the window. The room was so congested as to seem like maze, but with the music compelling me, I kicked my way through, only avoiding the scarlet-tinged bandages lining the way. I twisted under one of the rags, dragging myself through a pile of scrap that clung to my leg. I growled through my sobs, shaking, trying to make it let go, but it didn’t. I looked back, annoyed, scared at being held from my freedom, at the gadget trying to burrow into my skin.

I gasped, shock and fear solidified into a single piercing note echoing from my own mouth, and through the song netted around me. A new note blasted uncertainly into the music, tearing at my focus, driving me to something more feral. I bit the strange metal cone, with its saw-like edges and  clinging hooks, and ripped it off, leaving a shallow cut in my skin, just below my cutie mark. The strange device, only a few inches long but terrifying, fell to the ground and snaked away on whirring circular blades, and the new ethereal note died as it hit the floor.

I was cold. I felt no new emotion at the site of the monstrosity: I’d already been overwhelmed. The window before offered salvation, and I begged it to take me. I leapt thoughtlessly from the second story window of the cottage and hit the flower bed hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. A few feet to the left or right, though, and the beaten ground would had broken my legs with ease. I lay there, feeling the blind panic sloughing off, the need to run peeling away as I realized to music had ground to a halt the second I entered the free air, its final bass note still dragging in my ears, a warning, a rebuttal.

Be free from yourself

I heeded its message, and blearily dragged myself across the street.

I stood before Lyra’s door only long enough to pull it open, and then I pulled myself the short distance to my room, crawling under the covers of my bed, where I rocked back and forth and stared at the house across the street, not feeling safe at all behind a single pane of glass.

And even as my vision faded, all I could see were those blood-red eyes looking back.

*****

‘It was yours. Why did you run so far, so fast?’

I rolled over, snuffling.

‘Why did you run?’

I scrunched up my nose, focussing on ignoring the noise.

‘Why, Octy?’

Knock, knock, knock

‘I’m glad you did, though...’

I rolled over, giving up on ignoring the knocking at my door. Stiffly, I pulled the covers from my head and called out as I squinted through the high morning sunlight, “Yes? You can come in!”

My door creaked open to reveal Lyra, smiling tightly in a semblance of cheer. I returned it, but we both knew the other was lying.

“Good morning Octavia. Sleep well?” She asked, walking in. “You look like you had a rough night. Are you okay?” 

Considering her own problems, it meant a lot that she felt concern for me. I smiled a little wider. ”I am perfectly fine Lyra, just another nightmare, nothing too bad. But you, my dear, it looks as though you hardly slept a wink. Come here...” I raised a foreleg, gesturing for a hug, which she gratefully accepted. We embraced gently, simply drawing some comfort from one another for a few moments. I rested my chin atop Lyra’s head, looking out the window. I could see the brightly dancing flowers along the paths in front of the houses, and a few foals playing in the sunlight. They looked happy, and I drew on that.

“So,” I said, squeezing Lyra just a little, “Any news...”?”

Lyra sighed and sat up straight, still against me. “I asked the train clerk to check the records of tickets this morning, he just got back to me: Bon Bon boarded her train yesterday, but she didn't get off in Ponyville. There’s only two stops between here and Canterlot, so she must be either in Hoofington or Withervale. I asked him to check. Maybe she felt ill and had to get off early? It also explains why We haven’t gotten a letter: there aren’t any Pegasus Express flyers in those towns.” 

“That makes sense,” I nodded slowly, “And since Derpy serves as the Express flyer around here, the letter could have easily gone missing anyway, bless her heart. Well,  I’m glad you have a lead. I’ll help where I can, you know that, right?”

Lyra nodded and smiled. Then she stood and shook herself off. ‘I know, Octy, I know. Oh, and how did the chat with Vinyl go, is she doing any better?”

I smiled sadly. “Well...I plan on finding out.”

My answer surprised her, I could see, but she hid it well. “Oh...Okay. Well, its almost mid morning, but I made us some breakfast, so join me when you’re ready...?”

I nodded and thanked her, watching her close the door with that little smile finally sticking. i was happy that her problem seemed so easily solved, but as I lifted the blankets and looked at the hole in my leg, bleeding into the covers, I realized that my own may be far more complicated than I thought.