//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Musicians Of Manehattan // by MxGoat //------------------------------// In an alleyway outside of a pub, on her haunches, with her front hooves buried in her face, was a young earth-pony. She had a coat of gray and a head of charcoal mane that gave her a posh and refined air regardless of how muddied she was—and muddied she was indeed, for she had not partaken in the common ritual of cleansing in presumably a year. Her mane was messy and tangled, and filled with filth, similar her fur which had also been filled with grime and chewing gum, and smelled of a foul odor similar to the decomposition of flesh. Even more, this filly’s rib cage could be easily seen from behind the messy fur and flesh of her underbelly and her sides, from where an occasional growl would rudely emit. A sob wracked the alleyway, but to the young filly, nopony had heard her—at least that is what seemed to be true to her, but perception can be deceiving. The earth-pony did have an onlooker: a white-coated, white-maned and tailed, very clean unicorn filly, who had curiously looked with her red eyes down the grey and orange alleyway at the darker-colored pony. She tilted her head, and her lips pulled down subtly to reveal a troubling pout. As she opened her mouth, about to say something, however, she was interrupted by the older, more sophisticated, pink-maned and similarly white-coated unicorn beside her. “Vincenza Scratch! What have I told you before about associating with lowlifes?!” the younger unicorn’s mother seethed. Her words were spoken with an edge, and her nose had filled with wrinkles caused by the inward tilting of her brows. “Come along now, dear.” Both the white and gray ponies looked up at her, the sobbing pausing for a moment as the white filly, pulling her lips and eyebrows up into a mock smile, trotted beside her mother. “Yes, mother,” replied Vincenza with a scratchy, but not unpleasant, voice. “Would you like a doughnut, dear?” “Yes, mother.” The two disappeared into the bustling streets of Manehattan, presumably towards a donut shop or bakery. The quiet, shameful crying of a young, malnourished filly once again continued to occupy the alleyway. *** As the grandfather clock rung for the twelfth time since noon, the door of a white unicorn filly’s room opened, revealing the hooded Vincenza herself. Her eyes scanned the hallway warily before she took a step forward into the moonlight. As she slowly inched down the long corridor and towards the front door with a wax-covered bag in her mouth, she reminded herself of where she needed to go. Foal’s Place, she thought. She quietly chuckled underneath her breath. What an ironic name for a pub. A red-colored magical field wrapped itself around the doorknob and the front door opened, a river of cold air sending a freezing shiver up Vincenza’s spinal cord, covering her body in goosebumps, which could not be seen, but could still be felt from underneath her fur. She shut the door behind her and galloped down the driveway and into the now near empty streets of Manehattan. The night sky shone brilliantly with the sparkling of stars and the modest crescent moon overhead. It had to be one of the clearest nights of Manehattan ever in Equestrian history. Yes, Luna would have been proud of her sister. Vincenza easily lost herself in the sky’s magnificence. She stared at each and every white speck which had stood up against the deep, navy-black backdrop of the midnight sky. For a moment, she completely forgot why she was walking until she passed the familiar pub and alleyway. Vincenza took a few steps back and looked towards the familiar gray pony of the alleyway from yesterday. She was sleeping in a quite uncomfortable manner, restlessly, as time after time she turned from the hunger pangs and the shivering cold temperatures of the night air. She carefully and quietly padded over to the malnourished pony and unzipped her grey hooded sweatshirt and laid it atop the freezing child’s body like a blanket, causing her to open her eyes and murmur, “H-huh…?” She looked towards the white unicorn and sat up. “Who are you?” she asked. She squinted as she scanned the recesses of her short-term memory. “Wait one minute…you are the filly from before.” The unicorn simply nodded. She safely levitated the wax-paper bag out from her mouth and to the ground in front of the filly. “Yeah. My name’s Vincenza Scratch, but you can just call me Vinyl Scratch or just Vinyl for short. The bag’s for you, by the way. Go ahead; open it.”—Vinyl motioned towards the bag and grinned—“It isn’t gonna eat itself, you know.” Taking a moment to process what she had just said, the filly’s mulberry eyes widened. Food! Glorious, wonderful, life-giving food! She ripped open the paper bag and gazed inside, being greeted by a charming, half-eaten jelly filled donut. A single tear rolled down her cheek as her face pulled up into a brilliant, yet plaque-filled smile. She wrapped her front hooves around the unicorn and squeaked, “Oh thank you! Thank you!” More tears spilled from her sockets until there were two steady streams of fluid running down her face. When she finally let go of the unicorn, she quickly dug a hoof into the bag and pulled out the doughnut, taking a bite and indulging in its sweet and doughy taste. Vinyl Scratch chuckled, “Hey, no problem.” She paused, and then sat down next to the gray filly. “So…what’s your name?” She finally looked at the walls of the alleyway, only to notice sheet music covering some of their surface areas. Weird, she thought. “My name…is Octavia,” the earth-pony said reluctantly. “No last name, huh. …Well then, Tavi, where did you come from?” Vinyl asked, tilting her head towards her. “…I am from Hoofington.” Octavia said, looking down at the ground. “I did not really like it there…so I ran away.”—she rubbed her hoof on the ground before continuing—“Actually, it was not the village I disliked…but I would rather not talk about why I left.” Looking around, she awkwardly dragged her eyes across the alleyway before fixing on Vinyl’s. She decided to change the subject before the prying began. “…Thank you for the food and the jacket. Not to be rude, though, but why are you not asleep right now?” After blinking a few times, the Vinyl giggled, “C’mon, you’ve got to be kidding me! Sleep? That’s boring! Do I look like a grandmother to you?” She chuckled for a moment. Her focus returned to the music covered wall of the alley, and as she followed the notes across the paper, her eyes widened. “It would not be too hard a look to pull off since you do have a white mane and—” “You wrote this?” Vinyl Scratch asked, her eyes sparkling at the sheet music as she ran her hoof underneath the scribbled notes on the worn pages. “It’s beautiful…. Never seen or heard anything like it.” As she continued to skim her eyes over the paper, she noticed an abrupt stop in the composition. There was no satisfying ending; there was no conclusion, only a halt. Octavia blushed. “Well…yes. Yes, I did. It is a work in progress, though. I have not even finished writing the draft; I ran away from home before I finished it.” The young, almost depressingly gray Octavia looked down at the ground. “It has been like that for what seems like more than a year,” she grumbled. She paused for a moment, and her head tilted quizzically as she asked “Wait…Miss Scratch, do you know what it sounds like? Can you tell what music sounds like just by looking at its sheet music?” Vinyl nodded, “I’ve got a good idea of how it sounds, yeah.” She stared, with an eyebrow raised, at Octavia. “Why? Is it a big deal or something? And please, just call me Vinyl.” “Of course, it’s a big deal, Miss—!” Octavia stopped herself before she could say ‘Scratch,’ “…sorry…, Vinyl.” A few seconds passed and she gently, quietly sighed before she spoke again, “Of course it is a big deal. Something like that requires a lot of talent. Even I cannot do that, and I have been composing for years.” “Yeah, well, you compose pretty good,” Vinyl complimented. “…If only I weren't an idiot. That piece would have been finished by now.” Octavia sighed again and smiled gloomily at the unicorn beside her, “If only I still had my cello. Then I could finally hear it again and maybe even finish it. It is such a poor, neglected, under-appreciated little song.” “Kinda like you?” Vinyl joked, grinning at the wall. She was still admiring the composer’s work. Her stare was broken however by the sounds of sniffing beside her. Octavia was crying again. She laid a hoof on her shoulder. Before she could apologize, though, her hoof was pushed away. “…I am not poor.” “You live in an alleyway.” “Y—Yes, well…I am not under-appreciated!” “If you aren’t under-appreciated, why don’t you have paper and ink to finish your composition? If you were well appreciated, somepony would’ve at least spared you those things. Why didn’t I see more ponies helping you earlier? Why are you freezing? Why were you crying alone? Why are you rotting away in an alley?” Octavia cried even more. Rivers once again covered her face. This time, however, the rivers were laden with misery. She began to speak again—“I am n-not neglect—!”—but she was interrupted. “Octy, when did you last eat? When did you last take a bath or a shower?” “I-I…—” “Tell me, Octavia.” There was no response. “Please, Octy.” “I—I’m…not sure. …I think it has been weeks since I last ate, and I believe it has been around a year since I last took a bath,” Octavia admitted, her ears and eyes drooping in shame. There was a long, awkward moment of near silence between the two fillies. Vinyl moved in and hugged her, stroking Octavia’s mane as she did so. Octavia’s crying eventually calmed as she slowly melted into the embrace. “Sorry,” Vinyl Scratch mumbled meekly. “Huh?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you like that.” “It is fine Vinyl.” “It’s not—” “It is. Really Vinyl, it is fine,” Octavia stated reassuringly. She wrapped her own hoof around the unicorn who had been hugging her so warmly. She smiled at Vinyl. To reinforce her point, she stated, “You do not know me, and I do not know you. Yet, despite being a total stranger, you decide to give me your sweatshirt and a doughnut, and now you are hugging me and trying to comfort me. Thank you, Vinyl Scratch.” “Hey, I just wanted to help,” Vinyl responded. “You have done quite a lot of that tonight.” The two ponies sat in silence for a few moments in each other’s embrace. When the long-lasting hug eventually broke, the two ponies took some time to stare at the other. Finally, puzzled, Octavia raised her question. “…Why?” “I don’t know.”