“Miss Belle, you’ve been in there for over a week, is everything okay?”
“Are you planning on returning to your career as a singer, or is this the end?”
“Do you have any words regarding the criticism and backlash from your recent tour, or the speculation that music these days is nothing but hype?”
“How was the time that you spent alone with your sister Rarity?”
Sweetie Belle hadn’t gone five steps out of the Carousal Boutique before she was swarmed with reporters—all asking various questions that they’d been denied answers this whole time.
“Do they really have nothing better to do?” She thought, before remembering that this was their job and she had been the biggest source of news and speculation for the past week.
As she looked at the small group of ponies in front of her—all eagerly waiting for some reply—she decided to respond in a way to satisfy them without having to stay there for too long.
“I am feeling much better thanks to the care that Rarity, my sister, gave while I was ill,” Sweetie Belle stated, once she had everypony’s attention. I currently haven’t decided on any plans for returning yet, nor do I have any comments regarding what has been said about my latest tour.
“Right now, I just need some time to think. So if you’ll excuse me I’m going for a walk.”
With that, Sweetie Belle left the small crowed and started walking down the streets. Most of the reporters seemed satisfied with her words, but some still followed her—trying to get a larger scoop. They were soon discouraged; seeing that Sweetie Belle was indeed just going for a walk—doing nothing else of interest.
Soon, Sweetie Belle walked into the park; thankful to be at least somewhat alone. She sighed as she found a secluded part of the park and sat down. She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts.
“Is Rarity right?” She thought. “She has to be. They’ve never intentionally tried to hurt me. They…they?…Mom and Dad! Oh, what have I done?”
She started crying. Thanks to the secluded spot she had chosen, nopony was around to see her in such a distraught state. Well, almost nopony.
“Sweetie Belle, is that you?” A very familiar voice came from behind her.
Sweetie Belle turned and saw a magenta earth-pony standing behind her, with three smiling flowers on her flank.
“Miss Cheerilee,” Sweetie Belle said, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” Cheerilee said. “I’m no longer your teacher, so you don’t have to call me ‘Miss.’ Also, I’m married now, but that’s beside the point. What’s the matter?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Not really,” Cheerilee replied. “I read about what happened on your tour in the newspaper, so I imagined that had something to do with it. I meant to come over, but your sister had done everything short of digging a moat around the Carousel Boutique and filling it with alligators in order to keep ponies away.”
Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but smile for what had to be the first time in ages. Just the idea of Rarity—a mare that hated anything to do with dirt—digging a wide trench around her home, filling it with water and putting large, feral creatures in it was just too much for her to stay in a sour mood. But that joy was short-lived as she came back to reality; her former teacher was standing there asking about the most painful parts of her recent life.
Sweetie Belle looked up at Cheerilee, who was waiting patiently for an answer. She also remembered her sister’s words earlier that afternoon:
“It never did anypony any good to bottle up their thoughts.”
She sighed, and started telling Cheerilee the entire story; from the day she left Ponyville after Apple Bloom’s wedding to Rarity’s recent lecture that day. It was hard at first, but once Sweetie Belled opened up, she found it was nearly impossible to stop. All the while, Cheerilee listened, hanging on to every word and never interrupting Sweetie Belle.
“I guess I came home in the first place because I felt like my special talent had become meaningless,” Sweetie Belle said with tears in her eyes. “But when my parents told me that they were getting divorced, I felt shattered…like I had been lied to my entire life. I hated them for it. I even took my anger out on Rarity, after all that she has done for me. But now I feel like I’m the one that tore them apart.”
Cheerilee considered the crying mare before her and everything that she said. She knew very well about how prone to anger Sweetie Belle could get towards certain problems—and how it often led her to do things she later regretted. Cheerilee gave Sweetie Belle a reassuring hug.
“Its okay, Sweetie Belle,” she said softly. “Terrible things happen to everypony, and we often say things we want to take back. Admitting our mistakes is the first step in healing, but we also need to reconcile with those involved. Will you talk with you parents and your sister about this?”
Sweetie Belle was quiet for a moment before saying, “Yes.”
“Good,” Cheerily responded, letting Sweetie Belle go. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pick up Lil’ Mac before he terrorizes Pinkie Pie much further and eats the rest of her party streamers. I’m not sure what it is with that young colt and ribbons.”
“But what do I say?” Sweetie Belle called out to Cheerilee.
Cheerilee stopped and thought about the question for a moment.
“I don’t know,” she said, looking back at her former student. “I’ve never been in this situation before. I guess the best thing to do is to listen to what your heart tells you. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
“It’s okay…thanks,” Sweetie Belle said, feeling rather helpless.
With that, Cheerilee walked down the path. Sweetie Belle watched as her former school teacher left. She looked towards the sun and noticed that evening was fast approaching. Sighing, she got up and started walking again—but in no particular direction.
“What am I going to say?” She wondered. “How can they forgive me?”
Through her wandering, Sweetie Belle found herself downtown in Ponyville. Many ponies were closing up shop—eager to return home. But there was something else, something that drew Sweetie Belle once she heard it. Curious, she looked back and forth for the source of the sound.
Finally she found it. In the town square was a small group of musicians—playing various instruments. They were no Royal Canterlot Symphony, or any other prestigious orchestra, but they were still very good in their own right. They played a simple tune—probably due to their small numbers and the lateness of the day. Yet, despite the simplicity of it, Sweetie Belle could feel the heart and love they had for the music they made.
One thing that Sweetie Belle learned while attending Canterlot University was that almost anyone could hit the notes in a piece of music—whether if they were trained, talented or purely coincidental—and make it sound…decent. Yet there was this mysterious force behind music that made you feel it more than listen to it; a force that made good music great. It was especially noticeable in singers. When a singer understood the song—its lyrics and message—and felt it during her performance, then the audience would often feel it too.
Sweetie Belle listened to the small ensemble: feeling the rhythmic tones, the syncopated notes and harmonic melodies. But soon, it had to end, and the musicians put away their instruments—chatting about the wonderful time they had. Only then did Sweetie Belle finally turn away.
“Is that what I missed?” She wondered. ”Did I not feel the love and joy of music like I used too?”
As she walked, she felt something itch inside of her head. She tried shaking it, but it remained and grew. It was simple, yet elegant; it had a lyrical quality to it. She recognized it as on of the lullabies her mom used to sing to her as a filly. The lullaby was one of her favorites—she even created her own version using a completely different style of music once. Yet, as she hummed the melody, it was the way in which her mother always sang. Soon, she actually started singing it.
Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head.
Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.
Drifting off to sleep; the exciting day behind you.
Drifting off to sleep; let the joy of dreamland find you.
Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head.
Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.
When she finished, Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but feel immense joy. She felt like she hadn’t sung like that in a long time. Some might have explained it away as being simple. Yet Sweetie Belle knew that it was because the song was sentimental; that it meant something to her. She could feel the love in every word and the joy in every note. It was perfect in every way.
Then Sweetie Belle turned the corner and realized just where she was. She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going—especially when she was singing. Yet, here she was; in a familiar neighborhood and a very familiar house at the end of the road and near the river where her dad liked to fish—for some strange reason.
Sweetie Belle stared at the house; her house. Apprehension was building up inside of her. She still didn’t know what to say, or what to do. After what felt like an eternity, she finally walked up to the house. Sighing, she knocked on the door.