//------------------------------//
// Rather Be Left Alone? 
// Story: Scarred Vinyl 
// by Belgianchief 
//------------------------------//

I woke up, sweating. Moonlight poured through my window, but I didn't need the absence of the Sun to know that it was still dark outside. As every night for the last few years, I woke up from a nightmare, about one hour from sunrise. Knowing that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, getting up and going to the kitchen seemed the best thing to do. Hungry, I opened the cupboard, but failed to see any type of food. All I had remaining was a bag of flour, but even I was not as desperate to try and eat pure flour. Shopping had somehow dropped itself from my to-do list yesterday, and I wondered what had kept me busy. No answer sprang to mind, for what does a pony without a job do, apart from caring for herself and herself alone. Yet, I had even failed that aspect of my life. I shrugged. "Well, no breakfast for me today." I said to myself. Clearly my stomach did not agree with this statement and started to growl loudly. "Oh shut up you!" I grumbled. I went back upstairs to get my backpack to check what kind of money I still had. 3 bits. "Huh, well this'll be fun, with this I can buy some eggs some milk and maybe an apple or two. I guess it's apple pancakes for the remainder of the week. I'll graze a bit here and there, and I think we can make it till next month." Talking to myself had become natural, even though I knew other ponies would consider me crazy for doing it.

So, that was going to be it, huh? One more month with money and then having to start begging. I didn't want to, but there was nothing that could have been done, being a unicorn without talent, who had tried many a job, if not all of them, but not a single one could keep my interest longer than a week. Hence why I never got paid more than a couple of bits. Some ponies had even given me more than I had earned, just to get rid of me. "Whatever, I'll find something." Knowing I wasn't going to. Getting to the point where little foals were a more welcome help in companies or shops than me was not a comforting thought. Trying to pull my mind off things, I grabbed a towel and went outside down to the river. Even though the crystal clear water was cold, it woke me up and, best of all, it was free. I dried myself after, now noticing the moon was descending. So I made my way to the town square and sat down. I had nothing else to do anyway. Not having a job did have its advantages, you could say, as long as I could remember to take care of myself once in a while.

Waiting for the sun to rise, I realised that coming here was more a force of habit than anything else. Ever since the first time my sleep had abandoned me, I came here to watch the sunrise, hoping to see the spectacle I once thought was so great.  Back then, my gramps explained to me that all of this was the work of a single alicorn, Celestia. As if she had heard his words, the sun first peeked over the horizon with its rays of lights going in every direction you could imagine. I looked around to see the darkness of the shadows creep away from over house, over the rooftops, until the darkness was nowhere to be seen anymore. Now I realised that it was just the sun setting, that there could be no shadow where there was light, that everything that I had seen back then, had been just an illusion of sorts. And so, the sun rose to the sky and apart from the fact that it was a massive ball of fire and light, suddenly floating in the sky, it never had been as special as that one time, so long ago, when my grandparents had shared it with me. "Huh, another waste of time" I yawned. Not wanting to waste more of my not so precious time, I got back on my hooves and returned home, preparing for another day of nothing, as had been the case for the last 2 years. I came home, went to lie on my bed, put on a record and just laid there. Music. Every symphony, every harmony was different. Every genre had its rules and emotions, yet every one of them could bring out the best in me. Even if there were over a million songs, every one would be different. Every one was beautiful in its own way. It could be cheerful, happy music that made me happy, but even dark, sad music sometimes could. Sometimes, I even would get up from bed and start dancing. Music could forget my sorrows. If it could make me forget all the things I'd been through, for a fraction of a second, it was worth it. For that very fraction of a second made me feel I had a life worth living for.

Even though I'd lost my talent at being a DJ, I still enjoyed listening to music. Being able to improve music, though, that was my real passion. A couple of years ago, you could put on a record and I would write down what could, and should, be changed in that very song. And when I played that new version at performances, the music sounded as it should have in the first place. People would be carried by its melody, be moved by its words. They would stop where it stopped, only to start the cycle again when it continued or even when the next song played. But I needed to give up on that aspect. I just couldn't anymore. The events that had transpired two years ago had made me lose all faith in music. I, myself knew that it was just a trauma, but even if I copied what I used to do, I just couldn't change anything to the music, for it might drag me in as it had done that one day. The music as it was, would carry and comfort me in its melody, and everything was perfect. I didn't dare to change anything to it, because I could not have  When ponies found out I couldn't DJ any better than any given pony, I soon stopped getting requests to play at parties, because I was famous, and therefore expensive, and so, I was forced to do other jobs, which I could not handle.

Suddenly, my reminiscing stopped with a loud growl from my stomach. Looking outside, the sun had risen completely. I stopped the record from playing, took my backpack and went to the store. I bought a bread, some eggs, some milk and a couple of apples with the last of my bits. For whatever reason, I decided to take a walk around town. There wasn't much to see, just an average day, as all the past days had been. There were, however, not many ponies on the streets. "Huh, that's odd, did I miss a forecast of bad weather or something?" I heard myself ask. It wouldn't have surprised me if I had. I lived from day to day, and tomorrow didn't really interest me, because I knew it was going to be more of the same old, same old. I quickly turned back home, not wanted to be caught in the rain, because even though it was sunny now, weather could change rapidly in Equestria. I got home, checked my mailbox -empty of course- And opened my door.

"SURPRISE!"

At first, I was startled. Then it came to me, it was my twentieth birthday. Not caring, I put my groceries in the cupboard, went up to the turntable, shut it off and yelled "Party's over" Without even waiting for a response, I went upstairs to my room. The guests would leave soon enough, because they knew it wasn't going to be a good party if the host didn't participate. As I opened the door to my bedroom, Pinkie Pie came charging at me "No, no, no, no, no, not this time. You have no idea how much I had to plan for this day, let aside all the cakes I baked. Now, you're going back downstairs, you're going to turn on that turntable and you are going to have fun, understand?!" She looked desperate, furious, hopeful, and serious all at the same time. A mix only Pinkie Pie could accomplish.
"If you know what I did, and I know you do, you should know that I have no reason to ever celebrate my birthday, I shouldn't even be alive." With that cold response, I pulled her out of my room, went in myself, and locked the door. I needed to calm down. Relax. I needed music.
"Oh no, I'm going to get you out of th..." Silence. I had enchanted the door with a soundproof spell, which I had used on my headphones whenever I performed in the past. I was glad I still could use magic, even though my talent as a DJ was gone. Music. Oh how the symphony carried me, it was like being a small child again, being rocked from one side to another. It felt wondrous, I felt my my entire body calming down, it was all I wanted. Looking through the window, I saw that the guests were leaving. To me, that only meant that I would be able to finally be left in peace. Surely, after two years of failed parties, guests would stop coming and just leave me alone, like I wanted. I listened to the remainder of the record, which lasted about an hour, but for me it made me feel safe, made me feel alive, and it seemed to last forever. A growl of my stomach broke me out of that feeling, remembering me I still hadn't eaten. I went out my door and saw Pinkie Pie.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked her, I looked around and saw that every other pony had left. "Just go away, leave me alone."
"No, you are not going to be alone on your birthday. I'm Pinkie Pie, and for the last two years I've planned more than ten  parties for you, and this always happened. Well not this time, you are going to celebrate your birthday, and you are going to like it!"
I was so angry with her, how could she want me to celebrate this day? "Just leave, I'm only saying this one more time"
"No" She stood her ground. "I'm not going to let you turn into some grumpy old woman, just because you feel like it. No."
"Leave me alone!" I yelled, blindly charging her. I turned my head and felt the impact of my head on her side, hearing a crack, then a thud. When I opened my eyes, I saw that the railing had been crushed. I looked down and saw Pinkie lying on the floor below.
"I'm sorry. Pinkie, I don't know what came over..." She stood up, went outside and closed the door. I was alone. What I wanted. No, what I deserved. I kept staring at the floor from my stairs, looking at where the railing was less than a minute ago.

I took a deep breath, went downstairs and looked through one of the windows. Pinkie was nowhere to be seen. "Why did I do that? Why did I want to be alone? I don't want to be alone." I had lost my appetite. I went back upstairs, closed my door, and put on a record. This time the music could not carry me in its melody. I looked at my bedside table. The picture of my parents, the only picture I had of them, was looking me straight in the eye. "I'm sorry" I whispered. Tears were flowing in my eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" I kept stammering those words. By now, the tears were accompanied by sobbing and yelling. "I'm sorry ok!? Don't make me go through this any more, Please don't. Please. I'm sorry."

I woke up, thirsty. I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. It was dark, but I knew my way around the house. I went downstairs and heard gran and gramps talking.
"She'll have to find out once, we can't wait too long." "Oh please Gerald, she's only 6, 6! You want to tell a 6 year old filly something like that?" "I know Anna, I know. I'm just saying that one of these days she has to know that her parents are dead"
I froze in my tracks. My parents were dead? They weren't coming back? Ever? I saw tears forming in my eyes, and before I knew it, I was crying. Gran and Gramps heard me and rushed to the hallway. I was lying on the floor, crying with everything I had in me. "Mommy, Daddy no!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. They picked me off the floor and carried me to bed. "Mommy... Daddy..."

I woke up. The last remnants of the sunlight were pouring through my window. I had a look at my pillow only to see that it was no longer there. Only a few shreds remained. Ugh, I hated that dream, yet every time it seemed to creep up on me. For some reason, I couldn't control my magic when I was in that dream, it had cost me hundreds of pillows, a couple of sheets, and even one time, my entire bed. It gave me the shivers. It really wasn't necessary to dream the events that happened that night, for it was engraved in my mind, the images kept flashing through my brain, every minute of every day that I lived. But it was only a few years later that I found out how they had actually died. My mother died giving birth to me, my father went insane from the loss and later killed himself. I had a look at the picture on the bedside table. They looked so happy. They were so happy, and I destroyed them. I killed my mother and my father, killed the two people that would care about me the most. I killed them.