Ostinato

by bobthedalek


A New Life

Arkwrong was a well known stallion on the street that he lived on. Owning the corner shop at the end of a row of red brick terrace houses, he was notorious amongst the locals for trying to force slightly damaged goods upon them at ridiculous prices whilst being incredibly tight with his own money. He’d normally be seen skulking around, stood on the shop doorstep, bending his bushy white moustache into different positions with his upper lip as he slicked back his grey mane, looking up and down the joining streets for anything that he could use as an excuse to get his money transferred to a stronger safe.

This morning however, he had other matters to attend to. Making his way through the house above the shop, he knocked on a door to one of the rooms that looked out onto the road outside.

“Come in” a voice called from the other side.

Arkwrong opened the door to find his nephew, Ostinato, packing a battered old suitcase that he’d left open on his bed. Ostinato, or Ostin as he was more commonly known, was noticeably different from other stallions his age. His grey coat covered a body build far more suited to mare than a stallion, and as a result he was far weaker than he should have been. His slim build also meant that he felt the cold air more easily, so to combat this he’d always be seen wearing a knitted sweater vest covering a white flannel shirt, which was quite an oddity for a stallion, especially of his age. Even though he was far from being a tiny, young colt, he'd still yet to gain a cutie mark on his flank.

As arkwrong walked into the room Ostin had finished buttoning up a white shirt and was in the process of pulling a brown tank top with green and red diamond pattern round the waist over the top.

“I still don’t s-s-s-see why you have to go to this fancy University, Ostin”
“Please uncle” Ostin popped his head and blonde mane through the appropriate hole of the top, popping his forelegs through their respective openings shortly afterwards “It’s not fancy, and I only have to study at the University one day a week, the rest I spend in the orchestra pit at the local theatre”
“Well, there you are then, if it’s not f-f-f-fancy, and you only plan on doing local work what’s the point in going all the way to Colton-on-Sea. It’d be just the same if you s-s-s-stopped here”
Ostin rolled his shirt sleeves to halfway up his forelegs “Whilst it isn’t fancy, it offers me a gateway into the career in music I’ve always wanted”
Arkwrong rolled his eyes “You’re starting to sound just like your mother, do you know that? She had plans of making it big, living it up in place like Canterlot…”
“Oh yeah? What happened?”
“Well, eleven months later you arrived on the scene!”

Ostin’s eyebrows dropped in annoyance as he went back to packing his suitcase whilst his uncle left the room. He always did know how to kill the mood quickly. As much as Ostin had grown to accept that this was unfortunately how his life had turned out, the thought of not having any memories of his mother and her not knowing who his father was still felt like an emotional stab to the chest. Looking round his now bare box room, Ostin walked over to his windowsill where his most prised possession sat, an old, tatty, faded, but well loved lobster soft toy.

“Come on Lobster, we’re getting out of here!”

He carefully placed the lobster in his suitcase, slammed the lid shut, picked the case up in his mouth and trotted out of the room and down the stairs.


Ostin was in no doubt that he was looking forward to making a new start for himself; in fact he was so happy that he felt as if his stomach was doing summersaults inside his small belly. There was only one factor that was causing him to worry now as he and Arkwrong entered the large, airy railway station building. Due to how rushed he’d been with trying to work whilst also setting up for his move to Colton-on-Sea, he’d had to leave sorting out where he was going to live to his uncle. As he’d discovered, this was probably one of his greatest mistakes.

“I wish you’d allowed me to actually speak to this pony my mother knew before I travelled though” Ostin said through clenched teeth “I’ve still no idea who I’m meant to ask for at this address you’ve given me or even what they look like”
“Trust me Ostin, you’ll know them when you see them” Akrwrong had a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. “And even then, you’d made all your arrangements for what you were g-g-going to be doing there by the time I got a letter back from them. You should be thankful they didn’t t-t-turn you down. Now, don’t s-s-speak with your mouth full”

Stopping a moment to think back on it, Ostin did have to admit he’d been pretty lucky on that part. Shaking his head free from his thoughts, he looked ahead to see Arkwrong in his long trench coat and hat, moaning at the timetable board in the centre of the station. He trotted over to him and put his suitcase down on the ground, allowing him to speak freely.

“What’s wrong uncle?”
“Colton-on-Sea isn’t on there. I though you said you knew the timetable for this train!” Arkwrong moaned.

With a heavy clatter all the boards displaying the place names and times of the train flipped round, showing a different set of trains.

Arkwrong’s nuzzle wrinkled in disgust “Oh, ruddy heck. It’s one of those s-s-stupid mechanical things”
“Uncle, it’s been like that for a good few years now” Ostin sighed “I think it shows how long it was since you actually made a delivery out of town”
“Why can’t they just have everything written down on a paper timetable against the wall?”
“They tried that uncle, and from what I hear, you decided to steal the said timetable!”
“I d-d-didn’t s-s-steal it, no, I merely took it home with me since the company refused to print out hoof sized timetables for the common traveller to check the train times”

With another loud rattle, the destination boards on the timetable charter all changed again, displaying yet another set of station names.

“There it is!” Ostin pointed towards the board with ‘Colton-on-Sea’ scribbled on it faintly with chalk, clearly it was one of the name boards that the railway company were in no hurry to replace.

“Yes, well” Arkwrong mumbled “You’re just extremely lucky it is running, otherwise you’d have to find a hotel to stay in”
Ostin rolled his eyes “That’s right uncle, always the sympathetic one”
“Sympathetic? I’m always full of sympathy and compassion, look!”

Before Ostin could react, Arkwrong had drawn him in for a tight hug, forcing all the air from his lungs as his chest was squashed tightly.

Arkwrong whispered in his ear “Whatever happens Ostin, know this. There’ll always be a place for you above the shop should things not work out as you planned. I always need an errand boy”

In all the years he’d lived with his uncle, Ostin had never seen him display any affection like this before, except towards his personal savings, even if it had been completely undermined by his little adlib at the end. He would have felt overjoyed, if it wasn’t for the sharp pain of something underneath his uncle’s coat jabbing into him. He pulled back sharply.

“What?” Arkwrong’s look of fear was plainly obvious to Ostin.
“You’re wearing that damn money belt again, aren’t you?” Ostin glared at him.
“What? I’ve got to keep an eye on my takings, you never know who could be lurking round the shop in the time we’ve been gone” Arkwrong started to unbutton his coat.
“Uncle, please don’t show me, you’ll get yourself arrested again!”
“Hey, I thought we agreed not to speak about that” Arkwrong began buttoning up his coat again “That nurse always was one for dropping me in it!”
Ostin rolled his eyes, shaking his head “Goodbye uncle”
“Goodbye Ostin” Arkwrong replied, extending a hoof.
Returning the hoof shake and picking up his suitcase, Ostin gave him a final nod before setting off for the platform.

The big clock suspended from the roof chimed loudly, signalling that Ostin only had five minutes till his train was to leave. He trotted through the bustling crowds towards the right platform. Having travelled on this train frequently to the next stop along the line to make a weekly delivery he knew that it was always stationed at the same platform.

Presenting his ticket to the inspector at the platform he quickened his pace to the train. It was fairly obvious why it was always loaded up at this platform, out of the way, as it was made up of a mish mash of different rolling stock from separate parts of the Equestrian Railway system, all in different stages of disrepair. The brake van’s faded light grey colour scheme with dull black wheel frames was the standard colour for ones used by the West Equestrian Railway Company, and the faded initials W.E.R could just be made out on the main body where they had been hurriedly rubbed out in order to disown it from that region. Ostin stopped outside the box van coupled in front of it in order to drop off his suitcase.

The box van itself was actually an old cattle wagon, and like its companion was also well past its retirement age, but had been pressed into service regardless. The brown paint was peeling off of its body, revealing patches of rust and rotten wood underneath, but it seemed sound enough. Since two small baggage trolleys on the platform had yet to be loaded on board, Ostin was able to put his small suitcase in the van himself, out of the way of where the two trollies were due to go. The last thing he wanted was for his suitcase to get mixed up and left behind with some other luggage at an earlier stop. He wrinkled his nose slightly on the way out, there was certainly still a faint smell of cows that was clinging to the floorboards.

With a great whoosh the engine at the front of the train noisily let off steam, causing a few small colts who had been admiring it to jump back suddenly. The engine was a small tank engine that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in several months as the different types of grime on its body had hidden away its natural colour scheme. Given how dirty it was Ostin had always assumed the engine had been painted black to save on cleaning, but at times he had spotted hints of a dark, rich green underneath, along with some brass work starting to shine through on top of the boiler. The engine didn’t have the usual staples of an Equestrian train, such as a cowcatcher and spark arresting chimney, which clearly gave away the fact that it was not meant to leave the sidings in which it had probably been employed, but due to a bizarre twist of fate, this is where it had ended up, working a regular passenger service from one small town in the countryside to another by the sea, all due to the fact that it was the only engine light enough to cross the bridges on the route, which the railway board had deemed as not being cost effective to strengthen.

The single passenger carriage in the train was clearly the one part of the consist that certainly looked out of place. Having initially been built for a tramway in Northern Equestria it had verandas at each end instead of doors in the side of the carriage. It was also built extremely low in order to clear the low bridges of the line it originally worked on. Amusingly though, it was the only piece of the train that had clearly been maintained by how the deep maroon paint that adorned it was highly glossed and gleamed in the sunshine coming through the station’s canopy roof.

The back half of the carriage that Ostin stepped into had been converted at some point in the carriages long history. Gone was the bench style seating that lined the other half of the carriage, and in its place was a small bar with bar stools. There were very few good decisions that the Railway Board had made, but this was arguably their best, even if it was initially for their own advantage at the fact that there was no restriction on hours that cider could be served on a train. Now however, the travelling bar had gained something of a reputation, with ponies from all over Equestria travelling on the train just to experience such a novelty, with it often becoming so busy in the carriage that Ostin had had to travel out on the open veranda with some of his past deliveries.

Clearly today was one of those days as Ostin found himself confronted by a large crowd as he stepped on to the veranda at the end of the coach and tried to make his way inside. Edging his way round the carriage he tried to aim to be in his usual place at the bar, nestled in a small corner between the compartment partition and the cider barrel on the bar, but when he eventually got there he found his space occupied by a rather large, cider drinking stallion, and judging by his Hawaiian shirt, straw hat and camera hanging from his neck, he clearly wasn’t from around here either.

Ostin began having a conversation with himself in his head “There’s someone in my spot?! But I’ve always sat there, always. Should I say something? No, no Ostin, that’s a bad idea…it’s just a spot…there must be another space more suited to you on this train”

He glanced round himself, awkwardly looking through the crowd “Nope. Not a sausage. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to mention it…yes, mention it! New life, new rules Ostin! No one takes your spot at the bar!”

Ostin finally plucked up courage “Excuse me, but I believe you’re in my spot”
“You think you own the train or something?” The stallion lifted his glass to take another sip.

Thud. Two great hooves landed on the bar in front of the tourist, who looked up to find himself staring into the glaring eyes of the bar maid. She was an incredibly stocky mare, with muscles that were on the verge of rivalling those of the average stallion, which seemed at odds with her pastel pink coat and white curly mane.

“He may not own the train” She stated flatly “But he’s certainly more supportive of it than you’ve been in the five minutes I’ve known you! Is there anything else that isn't to your tastes, you majesty, that is besides the smoke, the steam, the crowds, the prices?” She complained in an overly sarcastic way.

The tourist gulped. Saying nothing he slipped off the bar stool and squeezed his way to the other side of the carriage with his cider, trying to mix in with the crowd to save himself the embarrassment of being publicly shamed. Ostin climbed up onto the barstool as the bar maid pumped out a pint glass of apple juice for him, his usual drink.

“So Ostin, are you finally out of here then?” She asked.
“Yep, finally” He pulled out a couple of bits he’d prepared from his shirt pocket beneath his sweater vest.
Resting the glass on the bar, the maid pushed the bits back towards him “Have this one on me, you’ve unintentionally done me favour, giving me a good excuse to get rid of ‘old groaner’ over there”

Over the commotion of the busy railway station outside the shrill sound of the guard’s whistle sounded, being responded to by the equally high pitched whistle of the steam engine. Ostin covered his glass with his hoof; he knew what was coming next. With a mighty lurch the train started to move, showing which ponies had never taken this route before and were subsequently unprepared for how the force from the sudden movement would throw them along the carriage. Removing his hoof from the glass, Ostin wiped it on one of the bar towels as he watched the town he’d grown up in glide away from him through the carriage window. The long queue of ponies at the booking office, the ones who were frantically looking at the timetables for another train to catch after missing the one they wanted, the frantic porters all running towards the centre platform ready to assist with the unloading of the express from Canterlot that was pulling in.

Some things never changed…


With a loud thump, Ostin put his suitcase down on the platform, bemused by his new surroundings. The mental image he’d built up of the station he was to disembark at was of a small, rickety wooden platform with no shelter and an out of date timetable pinned to a fence, instead he was greeted by a large, two platform station that was smartly decorated with glossed tiles. Frosted windows on the station buildings on both of the platforms displayed the different services available to passengers, such as ‘Telegraph Office’ and ‘First Class Waiting Room’. The canopies over the platforms were held together with a complex system of steel rods and beams, framed round the edges with wooden slats which, apart from the few specks of soot from the passing and stopping steam engines, had clearly just been repainted for the end of the summer season.

Arguably, the most impressive feature of the station was the booking hall. Built from terracotta bricks and four storeys tall including its roof, the whole building was suspended across the railway lines by heavy metal girders, acting as a bridge between the two platforms whilst also joining the two sides of the cutting in which the station was built. Having taken a brief moment to admire it in all its glory, he picked up his suitcase and headed up the steps to the exit.

Colton-on-Sea was a strange place to Ostin. Living with his Uncle Arkwrong he’d grown accustomed to the sight of simple, two story, red brick terrace houses framed against mills, factories, chimneys and a few hills on the horizon. This was a world away from the architecture of his new surroundings. Whilst the terrace layout was still the same, the houses here were obviously much narrower, though this seemed to have been compensated by them being three storeys high, and from the fact every house had a set of railings in front of them with stairs leading down behind, Ostin was quickly able to guess that all of them must have basements. The array of pastel colours that they had all been painted was a great contrast to the dull brick work he was used to, and every doorstep he passed had a personalised mosaic tile pattern before it on the floor.

Having obtained directions from a cab driver at the station he was now trotting at a leisurely pace towards his destination, his suitcase handle clutched between his teeth. The cleaner coastal air was already starting to have an affect on him as he soon found himself almost bouncing with each step along the pavement. The sound of ocean waves and a fairground organ being faintly audible over the sounds of the street told him that he wasn’t that far from the promenade. He was half tempted to go towards the hypnotising sounds and take the scenic route due to the glorious sunshine, but he eventually talked himself out of it, deciding instead it would be better to wander round after having found his lodgings.

Ostin looked down at the notes he’d made on a scrap of paper “No. 24, Cresent Row” he said to himself.

Looking up at the street sign ahead he suddenly found himself staring at the actual sign for the said road. He was sure he still had a good few roads to walk past yet recalling the cab driver’s directions, but it seemed he’d been so wound up in his daydreaming as he’d walked along that he’d lost track of just how quickly he was travelling. He started walking down the side of the street that he was on, noting the house numbers as he passed them.

“…31…30…29…”

Rows of apple trees lined the edges of the pavement, casting a cool shadow on the ground to protect ponies from the baking midday sun. Looking upwards momentarily, the sunlight glistening through the leaves created a warming stained glass effect.

“…28…27…”

Taking a glancing look down at the ground underfoot, it suddenly occurred to Ostin how perfectly maintained the pavement was compared to those around where he lived with his uncle. Back there the pavements were full of lumps and bumps due to the amount of subsidence that was ever present.

“…26…25…24…”

Ostin wiped away some sweat beads from his forehead caused by a mixture of the rising temperature and nervousness about meeting the pony he was about to live with. For all he knew they could be a prim, upper class shut-in who had to have everything just so. Stepping onto the tiled porch of the house he placed his suitcase down on the ground, taking a strain off of his jaw. It surprised him that with how much he had to pick things up with his mouth, being and earth pony, that his jaw hadn’t become accustomed to lifting certain weights.

Not knowing anything about the pony he had been arranged to live with other than what little his uncle had told him, the worst thoughts of how they could be kept filling Ostin’s head. He was half tempted to not ring the doorbell and get the next train back home. Then his thoughts turned to that of his uncle ridiculing him if he returned. He didn’t want that. Inhaling deeply, he outstretched a hoof and rang the doorbell, making a faint high pitched ringing audible for a moment.

Ostin slicked his blonde mane back with his hooves, letting it spring back into its natural style. Listening carefully he could hear the sound of heavy hoof steps approaching the other side of the door, followed by the sound of the door handle being opened. He decided it would be easier for him to talk if he closed his eyes as he said his first few words.

“Hello, I…” Ostin trailed off as he realised a great shadow was now casting over him.

Opening his eyes and slowly raising his head up he found himself faced with a great stallion. The stallion’s huge build cast a large shadow on the ground beneath him as he towered over Ostin, being roughly twice his size. He didn’t say anything, but he just stared down at Ostin, who was now considering whether to attempt to hide underneath his suitcase rather than face the ochre coloured pony with the shaggy coat and dark brown mane that he’d have to share a house with for the next few years. For a short moment the two were in deadlock together, one in fear and one with no expression at all.

“Tonnage, will you move your great fat posterior out of the way, PLEASE!!!” a feminine voice called from behind the stallion.

Sheepishly, the stallion moved aside, allowing a unicorn mare who was more appropriately sized to Ostin to squeeze past the great stallion with quite a bit of effort, her pale green coat and long, flowing golden hair becoming visible as she edged her way around him, a pair of thin, wire framed glasses sitting on the end of her nuzzle. A cutie mark of a thick, leather-bound book adorned her flank.

“You must be Ostin then” The mare smiled, readjusting her hair that had become messed in her struggle.
“Y-Yes…” Ostin stuttered, almost like his uncle, still fixated on the giant stallion in front of him.
“Oh, ignore Tonnage, Dear” The mare looked towards the giant stallion “He may look he’ll knock your lights out but he’s a big softie at heart”

Tonnage snorted, before turning round and walking back inside. It was only when he was walking back into the house that Ostin finally caught a glimpse of two gigantic wings folded neatly against his back.

“S-So, you’re…” Ostin looked back to the name he'd discovered during his journey on the piece of paper he had in his hoof, but due to how much he’d sweated with fear at the sight of Tonnage the ink had all run, obscuring his uncle's writing.
“Sandy Novel” The mare outstretched a hoof.
“That’s a bit of an odd name, isn’t it?” Ostin asked as he returned the hoof.
“Well technically it should be pronounced ‘noh-vel’ but that always sounded silly to me. You probably don’t remember me but we actually met when you were only a year old, but look at the handsome young stallion you’ve turned into” She ruffled his hair with her hoof “Your mother and I were good friends. Oh, the stories I could tell you from what we got up to as kids!”

Ostin smiled. Maybe now he’d find out more about his mother than he’d never heard about from his rather narrow minded uncle. His thoughts were interrupted as the rumbling of his stomach took over. It seemed Sandy heard it too.

“Tell me Ostin. What did you have for breakfast?” She asked.
Ostin froze as he tried to backtrack his memory “Well, I um….err….kind of….forgot, I guess”
“Forgot?!” Sandy almost shrieked “Showing you your room and letting you unpack your things can wait till later, for now, we eat!”

She slapped him across his back, causing Ostin to spring from sitting into a bolt upright position.

“Hmm” Sandy observed “It seems you’ve inherited your mother’s natural reflex”

She used her magic to carry his suitcase into the house. Ostin was now tugging at his coat and craning his neck round to try and look at his back. He new he didn’t have a mark there, but there was now something nagging in his mind about that area since it turned out he had actually genetically inherited one of his mother’s habits, almost as if now there was a big ‘slap here’ sticker on his back. He didn’t get to finish his paranoid search though, as he soon found himself caught up in Sandy’s magic aura as she forcibly carried him into the house.


“And this will be your room” Sandy looked back after stepping into the room to find that she was talking to no one “Ostin?”

With all his remaining energy Ostin dragged himself over the final step to the attic room of the house. There was no doubt in his mind that Sandy was certainly an excellent cook, but with how much she’d started to fatten him up over the past half hour he felt like his body weight had tripled, along with the ever so painful feeling like his gut was going to explode.

Sandy picked him up again with her magic and lifted him up onto his hooves “Clearly somepony’s not accustomed to Colton sized food portions. Why else do you think Tonnage is so large?”

Ostin rolled his eyes as he stepped into the small room. It was a small box room, with a sloped roof taking up most of the space, starting from where the edge of the thin, yet plush single bed met the wall and ending three quarters of the way across the room. Whilst it prevented the tall, weathered oak wardrobe from being moved, the big square sky light that had been built into the slope helped the golden sunshine from the outside to pour into the room and smother the bed sheets with warmth whilst also allowing a beautiful view of the clouds passing by above.

Feeling rather uneasy, Ostin hoisted himself up onto the bed and sat down on the thick, home made quilt that covered the mattress as Sandy placed his suitcase at the foot of the bed.

“Is the bed comfortable?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ostin nodded “Much more comfortable than I’m used to”
“Well then, I’ll leave you to settle in, if there’s anything you need feel free to ask”

Sandy walked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her.

Ostin looked around the room, opposite him was a small wooden desk and chair. Whilst highly varnished, with how much the wood had been worn down on its top surface it had clearly been well used in the past, along with the chair, which was clearly showing signs that the seat cushion had been sat on for prolonged periods of time. Next to this was the large wardrobe, big enough to stand in, clearly the room was only just big enough to accommodate it. Against the wall opposite the door was a large, free standing mirror, which Ostin soon found he’d been staring at his own reflection in for far longer than he first realised.

He stuck out his belly, trying to estimate with his hooves if his belly had actually begun to bulge since his lunch. He jabbed it with a hoof before clutching at his stomach due to the slight pain that followed. The pain inside him began to move. He could feel it ever so slowly and painfully making its way from his stomach to his chest, then to his throat…

An almighty belch escaped from Ostin’s mouth, causing his gums to flap wildly for a few seconds as the rush of stomach gas escaped his body. Ostin froze with terror, expecting the almighty stuttering voice of his uncle to roar through the building and question his manners, which would no doubt lead to a half hour hypocritical lecture on etiquette that his Uncle would fail to notice that he lacked.

But nothing happened. No yells of anger, no heavy hoof steps coming towards his room. It took a few minutes for this to sink in to his mind.

Ostin sniggered, and then he chuckled. Before he knew it he was laying back on the bed in a fit of laughter at being able to get away with something that, now that he thought about it, seemed completely trivial. He began thinking about what he’d experienced since his arrival. Sandy, Tonnage, the luncheon feast, the more than comfortable (If awkwardly built) room he now occupied. He stopped laughing and stared up into the clouds through the skylight.

He was pretty sure he was going to like this new life.