//------------------------------// // Chapter Four- Memories in Sharp // Story: The Strings Of Life // by MLPxMaestro //------------------------------// The Strings Of Life: Chapter 4- Memories in Sharp: Nearly three weeks have passed since that terrible incident occurred over at Octavia’s home. Maestro was now simply returning to normal life, but yet thoughts of her remained in his head…he didn’t know why? “Ugh, why must I keep thinking of her? For one, I do not like her. Two, I need to focus on other things and her not being one of them. Three, I will hereby…” The site of noticing her sitting at an outdoor tea parlor stopped him; she hadn’t noticed him yet, so he tried to blend into the crowd passing up the place. “Yes please, two tablespoons will be fine.” He could here her voice speaking amidst the rest of the chatter around him, but her voice and her soft, easy tone seemed to stand out within the crowd of ponies around him as he tried to act like he didn’t notice her. He then couldn’t help but look to the corner of his eye, but as he did, Octavia turned her head and then caught glimpse of him. As soon as she looked towards him, at the same time he drew away his eye looking over at her from the corner of his eye. After that, he could see though that she didn’t care either, and she opened up a menu in front of her. “Dang it…wish she didn’t see me.” he thought. That was the last time they would’ve seen each other…for a time. As for his teacher, he found one, and he was an excellent one, though awfully old. He liked the way he taught him, but he truly didn’t feel in tune. He had already now been making surprisingly good progress on his teachings. His mind was still mysteriously thinking of her, the one he thought was “The one teacher he had been looking for”. But now, all of that had to pass, as his teacher had recently enrolled him into an instrumental competition in Canterlot. Only one thing went through Octavia’s mind about him as she caught glimpse of him in the streets, “I don’t think he will win the competition next week, Maestro’s not ready…not to my knowledge anyhow.” She sighed to herself as she peeked out from just above her menu. “If only we could’ve been friends perhaps…I wonder about him still though, why? Why must I wonder about him after all of this time?” She then placed her menu on the table and slowly looked back at him once more. “…I’m sorry Maestro…I didn’t realize I had hurt you so much.” After the lunch hour had passed, Maestro now makes his way over to his teacher’s house, where he resumes his lessons. Hour after hour he practices, making every note in these lessons count, as he must do so for the competition, for it will not be easy. “Good Maestro, good…keep this up. Before you know it, we’ll take that competition.” Says his teacher proudly. “Yeah…I suppose so. But why must we enter into this competition in the first place?” he asked. “Well then, a question for thought I suppose. Would you like to have a firm footing in your reputation as a lovely Cellist in Canterlot?” “Yes, sir…of course.” “Would you like to be even invited into quintets, and if the day ever comes…in the Canterlot Symphyony Orchestra?” “Yes, sir.” “Then with what I am teaching you here, you must take this to heart. Feel the sound adapt within you as you play, do not force yourself to play, Let it guide you.” He then looks back down to Maestro. “Pay attention!” his teacher slaps his hoof, making Maestro immediately straighten up and pay attention almost instantly. “Good…now…let’s begin, once more on line three. Play this in E-sharp, and then transition over to what feels natural to you. They shall be asking you for a piece you have made yourself, so this piece shall be yours.” They continue onward into the late afternoon, with Maestro giving it all he’s got. “No, not enough soul, put your soul into it Maestro…feeeel it.” “I’m sorry sir, I can’t play that part of the piece.” “What, why not my student? This piece you know…it’s a romantic sounding song. Is something troubling you Maestro?” Maestro didn’t say a word, though not out of not answering but rather him not catching the question, as it was first said. His teacher kept asking him the same question until he got a fairly quick response. “What? Um…no, I’m fine. It’s just…yeah…I’m fine.” “Tell me boy…what’s troubling you? I know something down inside of you is preventing you from going any further with this song.” “Well…” he then proceeded to look away and out of a window that was adjacent to him. “I never knew my parents…never got to. My mother hasn’t even sent me a photo of herself, telling me it’s best if she didn’t, but I don’t like it.” “Hmm…why don’t we take a little stroll to get your mind off of this, hm?” “I…I don’t know sir, aren’t we supposed to resume on the-” “The lessons are not as important as someone’s troubles, come now.” They both then grabbed a jacket, and made their way out into the streets. After chatting for a bit, they both head towards the park, and then onto a bridge that overlooked the calm stream flowing under and through it. “So that’s all your mother was able to say to you, correct?” his teacher continued, as they continued on their conversation about family, and family issues of the past. They both then watched as the sun went down over the mountain ranges ahead, and the stars were now starting to shine their bright faces among the cosmos. After his teacher was starting to open up to him about his own family, Maestro was now starting to get used to him, and be more comfortable around him. He wasn’t the grumpy Asian Cello teacher he thought he was, but some of it was showing to him now. To his surprise, his teacher was raised in an orphanage too, but found his gift of playing music in his early colt years, four or five years at earliest human years-wise. His teacher also moved to Canterlot many years ago when he just became a full-grown stallion, and had been there ever since then. “You see Maestro, I’ve been in similar predicaments as you have. I have never known my parents truly either, and by now they are probably long gone. I am an old stallion now boy, and by the will of Celestia, it may not even be too long before I get to finally see them for the first time.” Maestro then felt touched by his words somewhat, and began wondering about his own grandparents he never knew as well. “Do you believe there is a heaven?” Maestro asked him. “It is good to think that you will get to see loved ones again, I warming thought indeed. But if there is…that is for you to decide and believe for yourself my student.” Meanwhile, back at Octavia’s home, she lays in front of the fire sipping on her favorite tea with a cover over her in peace, looking through her family album. From relatives as far back as her great grandparents’ parents, to her very mother and father. There was no doubt in her mind she missed them, but she missed her grandmother Octave more than anypony else. Her mother Melody, and her father Golden Strings, got her first Cello as far back as she could possibly remember. She will never forget that day when her grandfather, who was a master Cellist, took her one day to get her first music lessons. Her poor little hooves struggling to maintain balance, along with trying to hit the appropriate notes to make a lovely sound. “Mother…father…grandmother…grandfather…I miss you all so very much.” She then looked out one of her windows, and noticed a shooting star in the crystal clear night sky zoom right passed her window. She gasped, slowly being excited by the sight, as she then saw three other shooting stars go right with it. It was strange really; the shooting stars were the same number of her grandparents and her parents…four. Four shooting stars…four family member she loved very much…it was very odd and coincidental to her. She soon after stepped outside to her front porch, as she stood there in the middle of the cool refreshing air as she gazed up into the sky wanting an answer. “Grandmother always said that I could wish upon a shooting star if I ever saw one for myself.” She thought at her age it might be silly to wish on a shooting star, but it’s not like she was going to be judged for doing that anyways. Octavia then took a few more steps forward, and figured she’d try and mean it this time. “Grandmother? If…if you’re there…could you please…” A tear started to form in one of her eyes. “No Octavia, she told you to be strong, not to cry.” She told herself. But something unexplainable to her was just managing to get to her emotions. She couldn’t seem to hold back the tears forming in her eyes, as a tear one each side of her face softly rolled down her cheeks. She looked back up to the sky to continue her wish. “Please…could you…give me a sign? I know this is silly, asking a star to give me a sign, I sound ridiculous at the moment.” A piece of paper, a new flyer for the competition then gets gently blown up to her doorstep. She picks it up, and there was somepony she had recognized from her past…somepony she never wanted to see again. “W-what? This couldn’t be him?!”