//------------------------------//
// Introduction 
// Story: Octavia Takes The Bus 
// by TheDorkside99 
//------------------------------//

	Octavia gasped in disbelief.

“Six thousand bits? You’re joking, right?” 

The mechanic dried his hooves with a towel and shook his head. “’Fraid not, missy. Your transmission is completely shot. It’ll need to be replaced.”

“But six thousand bits is preposterous. Isn’t there any transmission out there that’s cheaper?”

“Hard to say,” the mechanic replied.  “This here model is a rare one. Six thousand bits is just my own estimate, and even that may be too low.”

“Just exactly how much is the original cost of this car?” Octavia asked.  “I may as well purchase another one if a replacement transmission will cost me that much.”

“Once again, your guess is as good as mine.”

The mechanic excused himself and walked into the restroom facilities of the car shop. With a heavy sigh, Octavia looked up into the bottom of her car suspended several feet into the air, the drips of grease from the engine causing her to shudder. The intricate design of hard metal parts sent the cellist’s mind into a confused daze and ultimately a frustrated attempt to make sense of her troubles. With the biggest concert of her life only weeks away, the last thing she wanted to worry about was how she was going to make it to practice without her car to take her on the ten minute trip to the Canterlot Music Hall. All of her musical compatriots would be too busy preparing themselves for the concert to give their poor immobile friend a ride, and at least in her mind public transportation was not an option. Octavia’s thoughts were interrupted by the mechanic appearing at her side looking up into the car’s underside with an inquisitive eye.

“You know, I know a couple of ponies who can take this heap of metal off your hooves for a pretty penny. That’s of course if you’re lookin’ to sell.”

Octavia sighed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. This heap of metal carries much sentimental value for me.” 

“I completely understand,” said the mechanic. “I myself gotta ’67 Mustang I’d never part with. Only thing good about is it’s shell, but every time I look at her, I see my late wife.”

“Then, you’d also understand if I could ask you for a tow to my apartment?”

The mechanic smiled. “Absolutely. Just lemme lower her down and lock up the place.”



The large towing truck rumbled down the streets of Canterlot’s high end district disturbing what was rather a peaceful silence which Octavia was used to this late at night. The tall streetlamps filled the lonely night with yellow light that spilled onto the cobblestone streets. Not a single pony was found out in the streets as the two made their way towards a luxurious apartment complex. 

“Boy, you sure look like your livin’ the life,” said the mechanic.

“I suppose,” replied Octavia.

At the gate of the apartments, Octavia reached out of her window and pushed a code into the number pad which opened the golden gates of the complex. The mechanic slipped the truck back into gear and drove the giant machine into the complex, ogling over the several beautifully trimmed bushes and trees that lined the pristine sidewalks. The glow of the moon danced across a large shimmering pool and illuminated a desolate tennis court and full length basketball court.

“What I wouldn’t give to live in a place like this. Shoot, I’d like to retire in a place like this if I could, but I like what I do too much!” The mechanic let out a raspy laugh and slapped his thigh.

Octavia smiled politely and turned her gaze into the starless night. She never thought of her apartments as “living the life” as her excited mechanic put it. It was only a temporary housing arrangement until the concert. She determined that as long as she gave the performance of her life, it would pave for her the life she always dreamed. A life with millions of adoring fans showering her with red roses and thunderous applause. A life of expensive jet flights to Equestria’s most prestigious music halls and theatres. A life of bottled champagne every night and the smell of fresh linen every morning. A life where she’d never again have to deal with apartment life and car troubles. The life of a famous musician.

“Well, here we are, missy!”

The voice of the mechanic broke Octavia out of her trance and back into reality. After pausing a moment to unlatch her seat belt, she hopped out of the tow truck and made her way to the back to assist the mechanic in pushing her useless car into the narrow parking space. 

“Hoo wee! They make these spaces any smaller, we may need a little elbow grease, if you know what I mean!” said the mechanic.

Carefully, the two ponies pushed the car into perfect position between the two posts that held up the lighted awning of the covered parking space. As soon as the back tires hit the sidewalk, Octavia let her head drop in relief. Playing cello for ten hours a day, though strenuous enough, did not prepare her for the exertion of force that pushing her inheritance on four wheels required. Opening her eyes after a few moments, she noticed a black stain on her pink bow tie from pushing so close to the front end.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, what else can go wrong today?” she mumbled.

“Don’t look too bad, if ya ask me,” said the mechanic. “I always come home covered in car grease.”

“Well, of course. I mean you’re…”

The mechanic turned his ear towards Octavia. “Say what now?”

“Never mind,” she said, brushing off her bow tie, doing nothing to the stain whatsoever. “I’ll just have to make a trip to the dry cleaners tomorrow after practice, that’s all. A minor inconvenience when taking everything into account.” 

The cellist pony reached into her cello case and pulled out a genuine leather wallet from a small pocket and proceeded to pull out several twenty bit bills. The mechanic stood dumbfounded by the sheer amount of bits that fluttered carelessly in Octavia’s hooves.

“So, how much do I owe you for the tow and ride?” she asked.

The mechanic shook out of his daze and smiled. “Don’t you worry your pretty little face about a thing, missy. It’s on the house.”

“Oh, don’t say that, old stallion,” said Octavia. “I want to repay you for your services. Besides, you look like you could use…”

The mechanic stared at the normally well-spoken pony as she stumbled to find the correct words to finish her comment on the old stallion dressed in a ripped jumper. As if reading her mind, the mechanic tipped his hat and flashed the pony another smile.

“Oh, I understand now, missy. Your thinkin’ I’m needy just because I ain’t got as much goin’ as you do.”

Octavia jerked her head and gave the old mechanic an embarrassed look. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean. I want to help you out, that’s all.”

“Nah, I don’t need any more money that I got now. I’m perfectly happy the way I’m doin’. In fact, can’t tell ya how I’d be any happier, except if my sweetheart were still around.”

“I see.”

The two ponies stared at the ground for a few brief and silent moments as their minds wandered off into the better times of their lives. For the old mechanic, they included days with his late and beloved wife. For Octavia, the moment she would hit the last and final note of her flawless piece would mark the beginning of the best times of her life. The mechanic finally looked up, reached into his hat, and pulled out a business card to hoof her.

“Well, I must be goin’ back. Hope everything works out for ya! Gimme a call if ya need anything.”

Before Octavia could respond, the old mechanic stepped into his tow truck and with a flick of the wrist the large beast of a machine roared back to life. He maneuvered expertly out of the narrow parking lot and pulled back out into the streets of Canterlot. Octavia stood the entire time watching him drive further and further away until his tow truck became a speck in the dark purplish night. When she was sure he had disappeared forever, she turned around and gave the car a long look. The waxed black and silver exterior sparkled under the awning light. She ran her hoof over the grill and admired the golden griffon statuette that sat regally on the top of the hood. She remembered how her father adored this car with all his heart. It was a shame to see it go under her care.

“I suppose all good things come to an end, right Beau?” said Octavia. She gave the car one last pat before retiring to her apartment for the night. A light drizzle began to fall as she made her way up the stairs to her door. She gave the car one more look. Beau, as her father used to affectionately call her, seemed to rest peacefully under the protection of the parking awning, and at least for that Octavia could be grateful. That somepony like her mechanic understood enough to pull the old girl over to her place gave the cold musician a warm feeling.

“Stupid old stallion,” Octavia said, chuckling to herself as she looked over the friendly stallion’s business card which read in bold Diesel’s Car Shop: Open all days from 5 to 5. Your drivin’ is our likin’!

“Surely he was being polite when he said he was happy where he was. Who would ever want to stay in the same place forever?”


Octavia stared at her telephone for five minutes, not a single muscle of her body moving from its place. She had gone over several times what she would tell her mother, how she would say it, and even decided to use Diesel’s business card as a buffer against anything her mother could possibly hurl her way. In her mind, there was nothing her mother could accuse her of with the aid of a complete stranger. She was being social, friendly, and using resources around her. What every independent adult pony could ever need to live on her own. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this picture. She was doing okay. Okay is enough, isn’t it?

She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“No, you see…Mother, would you please allow me to exp-…No! I was not driving recklessly, it had a mechanical failure, and…You don’t think I know how much it meant to him? Look mother, I…”

This was how conversations with mother usually went for Octavia. Half the time was spent cringing at her mother’s accusations and the other half in attempts to defend herself. Sometimes, however, it felt useless to say anything, and this was quickly becoming one of those times. Octavia sat on her couch and ran a hoof through her mane while her mother continued to deliver those accusations she had heard time and time again. She was a reckless driver. She was 23 years old. She had so much going for her at home. She was naïve. She had no idea where she was going in life. She had no idea what life even was. 

My father would never accuse me of such nonsense! 

When she thought she could take it no more and felt the temptation to hang up right then and there, the call waiting signal entered the conversation.

“Excuse me, mother, there’s another call on the other line.”

Octavia pressed the flash button, relieved to give her ears and heart a rest, hoping that whoever was on the other line would bring a ray of happiness and joy to her otherwise stormy day. As soon as she greeted her mystery caller, the gruff and pompous voice on the other line sent her hopes in a downward spiral. This time, she was tempted to yank the telephone out of its socket and cast it out the window into the pouring rain.

“Hello, Frederic.”

“Octavia, I do believe it was you I saw in your car out in the middle of the road causing quite a stir. I couldn’t help but cover my precious ears hoping that the sheer amount of horn blasts wouldn’t damage them.”

“That’s because my car experienced a mechanical failure as I was driving. What else could I have done? And why couldn’t you have helped me? It was quite the hassle pushing my car to the side of the street.”

“Well now, let’s not be rash my dear Octavia. I simply could not allow my brilliance to be muddied with the vehicular concerns of other ponies. Besides, it seems that you’ve made it home so you didn’t even require my assistance. Anyway, to the main point of concern, I wanted to let you know that we’ve moved rehearsals from the afternoons to the mornings right after breakfast to facilitate everypony’s schedules, especially mine since I do have other things to attend to.”

“What!?” cried Octavia. “You know that I have…appointments in the mornings. How could you guys have changed the schedule without asking me for my opinion?”

“Well, I think it obvious as to why, you were simply unreachable at the moment.”

“I was having car problems! Far beyond my scope of influence. How am I supposed to even get there now, I have no means of transportation.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way. You are quite the ‘player’ on our quartet.”

Octavia could feel her mane catch fire. “You detestable maggot, I am the quartet!”

“Now, now, let’s not get our bow tie in a flurry. So don’t miss rehearsal tomorrow, nine sharp. Ta-ta!”

Before Octavia could give Frederic another piece of her mind, the pianist ended the conversation with a pompous plunk of the receiver. Octavia, filled with rage and fury, slammed her end of the phone into the phone dock and let out a frustrated yell. She always knew that the members of the orchestral quartet could be difficult at times, but this brought it to a new level. They knew of her “needs” and to blatantly change the schedule as they did without letting her know was like a slap, spit, and stab to the face. As she rubbed her hooves over her tired face, she realized she had forgotten about her mother who was impatiently waiting on the other line. Octavia quickly picked up the receiver and furiously dialed her mother’s number into the pad, relieved to hear the phone being picked up on the other line.

“Mother, I’m terribly sorry. I forgot I…No, mother please, don’t misunder-…Mother, no! Don’t think that, of course I love you! You and dad. It’s just…No…Don’t say that…Mother…”

“You know it to be true, Octavia. You simply cannot exist without my watchful eye over you. What a pity you turned out to be. The day I allowed you to leave this house was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

And with that last comment, Octavia’s mother hung up her phone, and the receiver slithered from Octavia’s hoof and plopped onto the table with a sullen thud. Those words pierced her soul deep. She felt as though a spear had ripped through her stomach, entangled itself in a slushy mess amongst her intestines, and tried to forced its way up her throat. Soon, the warm saliva started creeping in her mouth, and the pressure escalated the sweat from her mid back down to her bottom.

“Oh Celestia, not again!”

Octavia got up from her couch and dashed to the bathroom. She didn’t pay attention to the table leg that stood in her way and she tripped, landing hard on her sensitive stomach. The impact was so rough, she could feel the bile starting to crawl up her chest.

“No, not that!”

Octavia tried her hardest to hold it in as she struggled to her hooves and limped her way to the bathroom. Only a few feet across the hall, Octavia used her front hooves to balance herself along the walls of her small but lavish apartment, and used her back legs to shuffle towards the bathroom. It was unnatural for a pony to walk on just two legs, but years of playing the cello this way made it second nature. Not to mention the times she had to use this method to reach the bathroom. With the door practically in front of her, she cautiously detached a hoof from the wall and reached for the knob. Another pang of urgency shot through her, forcing Octavia to put her hoof back on the wall and use it to support her delicate balance. As she waited for the shot of urgency to subside, she could hear her mother’s last words. The day I allowed you to leave this house was the worst decision I’ve ever made.

“N-no it w-wasn’t, mother! Dammit, I-I can make it.”

Blocking out any thoughts she had, Octavia used all her will power to once again reach for the door. She could already taste the bitter bile as she twisted the knob with her shaking hoof. Alas, when the door inched open, she leapt inside, ducked her head, and relieved her body of all her troubles. 



When she was sure everything was out, Octavia washed her mouth of the bitter taste and trudged to the living room. She plopped her tired body onto the couch and stared blankly up at the ceiling. The doubts started to creep back into her mind as the after pains bludgeoned her stomach. Grabbing at her sides, Octavia tipped to one side and began to weep softly. Suddenly, her phone rang, causing her to jump from her place on the couch. Octavia reached for the receiver and brought it up to her moist face.

“H-Hello?”

“Octavia, how ya’ll doin’ tonight?” said a friendly voice.

“Oh my, doctor. I completely forgot about our weekly call.”

“It’s alright sweetheart. So how are things goin’ for ya?”

“Not good, doctor. I just threw up and it hurt.” She began to tear up again. 

“Oh really?”

“I thought it would never stop. I was so scared, doctor. I just didn’t know if it would stop or not. But it did, so it’s okay I guess.”

“No, it’s not Octavia.” The doctor’s tone of voice became serious.

“What do you mean?”

“Octavia, I think you need to come in a little earlier tomorrow than usual. I think we need to work through some things a little deeper. It sounds like something really got you worked up tonight, am I right?”

“You could say that,” she replied, shuddering at the remembrance of her conversation with her mother.

“Okay then, how’s about y’all come in like at eight?”

“I can’t, doctor. I have practice in the morning. They changed the schedule and it’s mornings now.”

“They did that without asking you first? Now that’s not right there!”

Octavia then explained to the doctor what happened that day.

“Well even so, they had no right to change the schedule without speaking to you first. I mean, you’re the whole quartet anyhow!”

Octavia just smiled on the other line.

After a brief silence, the doctor spoke. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go to your practice, and play awesome like ya always do. Then you’re gonna come on over to the office, and we can talk for a while, okay?”

“But how will I get to practice? I have no car and my compatriots cannot give me a ride.”  

“Well that’s easy, just take the bus.”

Another brief silence crossed the lines. 

“Octavia, you still there?”

Still silence.

“Octavia, you okay?”

“I-I can’t.”

“You can’t what? Take the bus?”

“Yeah.”

“Well why not?”

“I, well, see. It’s just. There’s…I don’t know, I just can’t!”

“Is there something about the bus that scares you, Octavia?”

Octavia thought for a moment. “I guess, I don’t know.”

“It sounds to me like you’re not sure yet what you’re scared of. And you know what I say, if you can’t identify it, it’s probably not even there.”

“Then why am I so scared, doctor?” she asked.

“Why don’t you journal about it?”

“Journal? What for?”

“Yeah. When you take the bus to your practice tomorrow and when you come here, take a notepad or something with you and just write how you feel. Write anything that comes to your mind, and when y’all come over, we’ll review the notes and see if we can pinpoint whatever it is that’s bothering you. Something tells me, Octavia, that whatever we discover might help you with your relationship with your mother and your new life.”

Octavia didn’t respond. She knew the doctor was right. He had helped her a lot the past few months she visited him, but it also seemed that the more appointments she went to, the harder it was to progress to the next stage.

The doctor’s voice changed back into his signature friendly reassurance. “Now you listen to me, Octavia. Nothing is gonna happen to you on that bus, you hear me? You’ve been through a lot lately, and I can tell you taking the bus is gonna be candy compared to those things.”

The doctor paused for a response. Octavia could tell when he stopped talking for her to respond or for her to think. 

“I guess I could give it a try,” she managed.

“There you go! And that’s all you gotta do, Octavia. Just give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen? You got this far in your music career on your own, a little old bus ride ain’t gonna be nothin’. You have strength Octavia, you hear me?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, sweet heart, see you in the afternoon. Take care.”

“Bye.”

Octavia waited until the doctor hung up his phone before she did the same. She was always comforted by his sweet and peppy baritone and no matter what he had to say, it brought life to her. Even though the thought of using the bus still frightened her, she knew she wouldn’t change unless she did it. Other ponies take the bus, why couldn’t she? She had no reason to be afraid. As he said, if she couldn’t identify it, it probably didn’t even exist. 

Octavia got up from her couch and made her way to her soft bed. She pulled over the covers and switched off her lamp. Tomorrow she would take the bus to practice. She would journal everything that went through her mind. As she looked out her window into the night, another rush of fear gripped her.

It will be okay.

It will be.

It will.

It…

…