A DJ in the Night

by dj_neon_lights

Arc III - Interlude: 5 - Nightmares of the Past

“Again!” my mother yelled, her baton smacking against her podium. “You were flat! Play. It. Again!”

‘Again’… that cursed word again. It only brought with it more pain, more practice. Again and again, I brought the bow across the string, a reed to my lips, or a stick in my hoof. I hated it, I hated every single damned practice!

But, I couldn't say, no… I could never say, no.

Again, I brought the bow to my hoof, Violin to my shoulder. I hated strings the most. All other just got me winded, but these… They made me bleed. Calloused hooves from years of never ending practice pressed down on the strings, rosined bow drawn across the strings.

I played.

I was good, even though nopony ever told me I was. It was always, ‘not good enough’, or, ‘could be better.’ There was never any release, each day brought with it only more pain…

My music was a lie.

The happy, carefree notes flew across the sky, traveling where they pleased, bringing joy to those it touched. While I, the creator of the music, felt nothing!

Another sour note, a fault in the perfection. I lowered the violin and waited for the word…

“Again!”

Packed theatre, empty music. Every note played was perfect, executed with the precision of a master. But, the song sounded hollow. Perfection went so far, it was the imperfections that made a piece unique, added that which made it unique.

She didn't see that.

When it ended, all applauded. I smiled, bowed, and trotted off stage.

I would win, as usual. I would get the trophy, my mom would tell me I could do better, and my dad… Well, I knew what was coming next. It was Wednesday, halfway through the week…

That’s when he was at his worst.

But, until then, I smiled and waved, accepting what I had ‘earned’.

It didn't matter.

When I went home, the cycle would continue…

“Again!”

School; sanctuary.

Here, I was free from the gripping claws of my parents. They watched over me, but I could avoid them if I did good.

I always did good.

School was easy for me, math and science clicking in my brain with ease. But, what I excelled at was building. In art class, I couldn’t draw to save my life. But, I could make amazing 3D creations. Towers out of nothing but paper that could support the weight of a student, catapults and other simple machines that could do amazing things!

But they didn’t care.

I’d bring them home something I built, something I created with my own hooves, but they always responded in the same, ‘That’s nice, now go practice.’

High school was where things changed.

I went to a private high school, one for ‘gifted’ students such as myself. Classes were tougher, but I didn’t mind.

What I liked was the freedom.

I got to choose the classes I could take, focus on the subjects that I wanted to learn.

I had a choice.

I chose science, specifically engineering. They let me build so much, craft wonderful creations with my own hooves. The teachers praised me, for once somepony recognized me for something other than my music.

It was nice.

Home, I still practiced, but at school, I could play.

I got a taste of freedom, a taste of what it was like to chose for myself.

I craved that freedom.

But, like all good things, it came to an end.

When high school ended, my parents told me that I had to attend a musical college, the best in the nation. I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t have a choice.

Or did I?

I chose my own path, made my own decision.

I ran.

Far away, I ran. Fleeing from the grips of my family’s influence. I had little money, no social skills, but I did have one thing: drive.

I had fight.

I fought my way across the nation, picking myself back up every time I fell. I slept in gutters, I was beaten, I starved, I froze, but I kept going.

Then, I got to Canterlot.

I was a shadow of my former self when I arrived at the front gate, dirty and almost a skeleton. I had exhausted my funds, but looking up at the city, I could only see hope.

A fresh start.

And I used that hope to get my fresh start.

I worked. I worked hard. Day after day, job after job, I worked. I saved, slowly working my way off the streets. When I had enough to function, I set off to make my own choice, to decide for myself where I wanted to go from there.

I went to college.

It took every penny I had, night after night of filling up scholarships, practically begging for funds.

But it paid off.

I got in, accepted into the Canterlot University of Music.

It was a musical College, but one that offered much more beyond just that. I had talent in music, I couldn’t deny that, but I close to find my own style, make my own path.

And I did.

I found modern music, a style that I had never known before. I loved it, falling in love with it almost immediately.

But that wasn’t all.

They had engineering, an entire department dedicated to the creation of technology. I took one class… then two… then three… and I just kept going. Creation music may have been fun, but creating something that I could touch, well… that was something else all together.

I graduated. After four years of working my flank off, I graduated. Valedictorian of my class, a title that I earned because I wanted it, not somepony else. I earned my education because I wanted it, not for anypony else.

I was free.

But… where did I go after that?

I had debt, lots of it. I went back to my normal, part-time jobs to help pay off my debt.

Then he found me.

While I was busing tables, he found me.

The owner of a new club, Big Time, approached me and offered me a job as one of his DJ’s. I didn’t know what to say. I had learned the craft a college, and was hired by students constantly to DJ their parties. And, I guess, this stallion had heard about them, about me. He gave me a chance, one that I took.

And I made sure that I didn’t let him down.

Night after night, I played.

It started off as a part-time thing, just a filler in between sets of the most famous DJ’s. I liked it. It was fun and free.

And soon, there were ponies who were coming to see me, ponies that called themselves fans. My fans. I can still remember the first, a mare who came up to my booth just to say how awesome my playing was.

It was the greatest feeling I had ever had.

This went on, the crowd who came to listen to me growing bigger, and bigger. And one day my boss approached me and gave me my own time slot, making me an official DJ, and not just a filler.

It was amazing.

And from then on, I rocked my time frame. Those four hours that I had the club to myself, I made sure that everypony who came in felt as free as I was; felt the excitement, joy and ecstasy that I felt every single night.

Luna exited the dream realm, her magic severing the connection between her and the host. Her eyes slowly opened, her body uneasy as she adjusted her position in her bedroom chair. A frown fell across the princess’s face, guilty of intruding her friend’s, no, lover’s privacy filling her mind. It truly was a breach of privacy, intruding on another’s dreams without consent was an eon old rule that she had never broken… until now, that is. The midnight blue mare shifted again, her mental conviction made comfort a rarity.

‘Twas it wrong of us to do such? We worry about him, and sometimes the true problems are the ones we cannot put into words, she asked herself, trying to justify her actions. It seemed just at the time, the mental pain she had seen across her lover’s face after his mother had left was a sight she wished to never see again.

How could such a kind, loving colt have been treated so poorly? she thought, her face then scowling. ‘Twas the work of his… his parents which caused him this internal strife. Such vile acts on somepony!

Once again, the thought of more harsh action against the two ponies crossed the mare’s mind, evil thoughts of revenge and repentance for the sins they committed against their own child. But, like before, the anger was short lived, her oath as princess returning to the forefront of her mind: protect and defend.

Luna sighed, shaking her head solemnly. Her thoughts shifted from the two hated individuals, and back to the recipient of their abuse. The mare still found it hard to believe that Neon, a seemingly ray of bubbling sunshine, could have grown up from such a dark past. She was not new to this type of circumstance; family abuse has, sadly, existed for as long as the family itself. But, usually the victims of these types of trauma grew up to be spiteful individuals, either continuing the abuse with a family of their own, or letting the scars consume them, driving them into a pit of anger and hatred. Neon… Neon had neither. Sure, she could see the occasional inner strife, moments when his scars broke open and old pain returned, but he always just took the pain and moved on. It was not that he hid his sadness, or faked his happiness. He was… he was an anomaly.

Hoof to chin, the mare returned to her original point of intruding on her lover’s dreams, her tangent running on for far too long.

She had, essentially, broken into his dreams so she could see his raw, unbidden emotions. And, to her surprise, what she found was both disturbing, and admirable. Neon had gone through years of abuse, immense physical and mental stress applied to him at such an early age. She had seen the worse, but she had also seen the best. The victim was able to not only escape his abusers, but also use his past as fuel to write his future; his drive, dedication, and ethic that resulted was nothing short of admirable.

Originally, the princess had planned on using what she learned to better understand, and better aid, her love’s pain, but in the end she had learned something entirely different: he was a survivor. It was no wonder he was able to face the Nightmare for so long, fight off the demon from taking over for far longer than she could.

In the end, she believe that his background had only made him stronger. She had found new respect for the recipient of her love, not only that, but also admiration.

As the princess rose from her seat to finally return to her proper duties of the day, she could not help but have a smile on her lips.