The Buzzing Of Lights

by Johanson

Chapter 1

Buzzing of Lights

By Johanson

It was a dark, star-studded canvas of a night when Amber Lights walked through the bleak alleyway. In her silky black dress, the ivory unicorn certainly stood out from the rest of the bystanders that ran their usual lives in downtown Manehattan. Her brown mane was tied up in a neat bundle, making her diamond necklace shimmer all the more beautifully. She took in a deep breath and tasted the fresh wispy air. It was a magnificent night, only fit for a dashing figure.
Like herself.

Up ahead, she saw a dim, solitary light. The naked light bulb inharmoniously buzzed the same tune it probably had for ages. It stood guard over a solid red door, providing the light necessary to fight off the darkness. But to Amber, it was a bland white glow that flickered every so often. She rolled her eyes and walked into its white glow.

Amber didn’t like the sensation that crawled up her skin as she stood underneath it. It felt like the light touching her was old, overused, and worn out like a musty towel. Whatever glory it had once lived was all gone and now all it did was cast its same, meaningless shine for the shadows to dance around. “One of these days they need to fix that light or just outright replace it,” she whispered to herself as she stepped through the door and into the welcoming marble-tiled hallways.

The door closed and the light bulb now out of sight, Amber made her way down the hallway. It was a long, plain marble hallway that twisted and curved endlessly. No matter where she went, a right here or a left there, every step seemed to take her nowhere. Her eyes glanced every now and then to the walls that escorted her, mostly out of boredom.

Occasionally she would pass by an interesting painting or portrait, one of a myriad upon the walls. Wrapped in an aged, golden frame, each held names that were as good as blurs tucked underneath them on small plaques. Without even trying she could picture the bland paragraphs that followed under them, detailing the life of somepony who had borne many an hour or troubles to present the handiwork that now lay in a disembodied back hallway of the Manehattan Metropolitan Art Museum. Sometimes the paintings would be exchanged for a clay or stone statue, a few behind glass cases while others towered over the mare. Whether they were of ponies or the oddly-shaped formations of emotions it made no difference to Amber; she ignored them all the same. As they would pass by her view they gazed back at her with begging eyes, eyes pleading for a nonexistent admirer. Amber huffed at the notion. No doubt they were created by unique minds and what they all had to present was marvelous. But they were nothing that the mare had time or concern to mull over. After all, she herself had business to attend to on this very special night.

Tonight was the night she had dreamed of since she was small. It was on this very night that she was going to find herself standing up on a platform, presenting her latest piece that was assuredly going to rest alongside the true greats of the museum. For years she had worked her way up to this very place, creating a path of idyllic, poised art and leaving in her wake lines of bedazzled onlookers. She was confident that by now her name had a large following that bathed under her magnificent art; in fact, she had no doubt about it.

Finally the perpetual hallway gave in and split off into two directions. Amber shifted her eyes and, tucking her hoof under her chin, contemplated on the instructions she had been told earlier. The right! Now I remember! It’s to the right.

Traveling down the ever-continual path, Amber thought back to those early years. The mare she was now was a far cry from the shy, reclusive filly she had been. Even in the bright and happy schoolhouse back at Tall Tale Tail, she had wanted nothing more than to stay as far back in the class as possible. She never feared anypony, but she did fear their eyes. Their judging eyes. Always judging, she had insisted. The rest of the class scarcely approached her, and allowed her to keep the invisible barrier that she had made for her own sake.

She had been fine with this notion until somepony broke through. They played, laughed, and told her jokes, but it all still made her nervous. She started shaking wildly and slowly made her way to her desk. Inch by inch she tried going back to her drawings, but one of the colts beat her to her desk. His eyes scanned the drawings and stared at her. She felt the judging eyes. Her heart burst like a balloon so fast that she wanted to cry. She would have too, had it not been for the next words to come out of the colt’s mouth.

“I really like your drawing! It’s cool!”

“Y-you really think so?”

She could never forget the next part. It always made her laugh.

“Yup! But I think it’d look better in green. Coz’ green is cool.”

As the last drops of giggles died away, Amber at once shook herself out of her thoughts. Straight up ahead she heard the soft clatter and voices of art connoisseurs rattle the hallway. A violin quartet was thoughtfully playing a solemn, majestic tune over the voices. Between her and the door, though, was a sharp-dressed stallion.

She gave a discontent sigh at the sight of him. Tall and gray, the stallion looked to be about the same age as Amber. His mind seemed to be elsewhere and his lips kept on moving silently as though he were preparing for a lecture.

It was none other than Teller.

Spying upon her, the stallion ended his private bravado to face her. He gently waved at her and trotted toward the artist. As the clatter of clopping grew closer, Amber squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them up, the grey stallion stood before her with a look of mixed relief and worry wiped across his face.

“Amy, it’s about time you got here. Being slow as usual! Everypony, including the museum director and his wife, are excited to see you.” Taking a quick look around, Teller then moved in closer and plainly whispered into her ear. “To be frank, I think they want to discuss you doing a commission.”

“Wow, really?” she said incredulously.

“Yes,” he said dryly. “Now I’m not sure if it’s actually for the museum though.” Both of them chuckled at the thought, Amber being louder than the stallion. “So, are you excited?”

Amber lit up at the notion. “How couldn’t I be? I mean, look at it, my peacock, up there among all those modern greats! Who would have thought that she would end up here?”

“Certainly not me,” Teller said as he motioned for Amber to follow. Amber laughed and forcibly patted the young stallion on the back. The two stepped through the doorway into the crowded room.

Despite the sheer amount of ponies huddled along the walls, Amber was instantly greeted by a volley of praises and introductions. Many were from regal high-standing members of society, looking forward to see the newest shining star; others were long-time followers with an almost fanatical fervor for Amber’s works, even to the point of repeatedly expressing their love of her artwork throughout the night. It was nothing new to her; she took them all generously with reserved appreciation. Teller simply observed each compatriot and stood by his friend.

Certainly there was no doubt in her skill. After her years in Tall Tale Tail elementary, she was picked up by an aging and downtrodden art instructor in Manehattan who had an eye for artistic talent. He saw Amber’s artwork, and immediately took her under his wings. Soon, Amber started learning the finer points of art, and in the following years had mastered everything that could be taught by him. It made no difference what she did, her art instructor loved it, and fervently preached her art wherever he went. She always loved it when he would do this, and she still looked up to him like a father. And wherever her artwork was displayed, not a single critic had anything that contained a morose word toward her.

Even her parents could not express their pride in her. Of course, there was a time when they were shrouded in doubt about their daughter. Coming from a strict diet of humility and simple things, more than once Amber had to listen to them argue and decry her. But like the rest, they saw her way. She had a way of doing that, she pondered. It was like a simple spell she naturally had. No one could resist it as all of them were caught in the trance of her art and presentations. At least, all save her one faithful critic.

As the night continued, the cycle repeated endlessly. And every moment that went by, the lights just seemed to grow brighter, the rhythm of the quartet grew more complicated, the patrons richer in beauty, and the sights more glorious. It was more than she could have ever imagined. Nothing was untouched, including herself. Her own body began to glow, turning almost a true sparkling white. Instinctively she began to straighten her body amid the upper class to the point that she almost grew a few inches to meet them. Somewhere along the way Amber began to tune out the volleys of ponies in front of her. A smile snaked its way from her mouth till Amber could barely keep it hidden. She was in pure ecstasy.

It was then that one unique patron stepped into Amber’s view. Standing large and imposing, the sickly green stallion stood over the crowd and parted the way to her. Despite his husky size, the unicorn stallion carried himself softly as if he were riding on air. His fine bowtie hung on with the same pride of an unearned medal, pairing it with his purple suit jacket. In short, he seemed larger as a whole than anyone she had ever met. Coupled in the fact that he was incredibly handsome, Amber’s heart was fluttering wildly in her chest. Her head began to sink down her neck.

With a hoof stretched out, the patron smiled gleefully. “So, this is the Great Amber Lights I’ve heard so much about!”

Amber gingerly took up the outstretched hoof. “Indeed I am. Are you a fan?”

“Perhaps so, but after seeing you myself, I might be more than just that,” he said with a sharply uncut, deep voice. She blushed.

“I must say, I am quite fascinated by your style, your work, your finesse! It flows with so much life that it makes my own just pale in its wake!” He threw up his hoof to his head and leaned back for added dramatization. With the same breath, he slyly said, “Nevermind what that one outrageous critic said, your work is the greatest!"

Icicles ran down Amber's spine at the mere mention of it. She hardly could forget the scorning article that had been published last week about her art. While she was used to criticism, this one stood out particularly well to her and almost merited a written response. It was written by some pompous critic simply named "Fry", who slew at one of her previous works. He spared no comment as he decried her as 'a lazy, careless, and mongering artist who is unattached from reality'.

Yet she all the same flicked her mane and pressed on. The gentlecolt in front of her waved his hooves again. "It is so wonderful that I desire to request a private commission from you this instant!”

“Sure, let me just put you down on my list and-"

The stallion shot up a hoof at the artist’s face.

“I don’t think you understand. I mean RIGHT now. I have everything you need. All I need is you and a few minutes of your time.”

“But the ceremony…”

“You don’t understand, do you? I am a stallion of impulse! My ingenuity lasts only moments and will feather away lest you come with me! I must have you this instant!”

Amber instantly recoiled and stepped back in shock. Certainly it wasn’t the first time someone had requested her handiwork, but never like this. Normally she would have found such a blunt demand offensive. But when was the last time you have worked for a wealthy pony such as this? Never! That’s what. Opportunity is knocking at the door right now!

Then it’s settled then. Everyone else can wait their turn.

She opened her mouth, but another voice came out.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll need to hold on to your ‘ingenuity’ a little longer. I don’t know if she can work fast enough to capture your brilliance. She has QUITE a number of other customers and business to attend to, especially after the ceremony. You should get behind them on the list first.”

The lofty stallion almost deflated and toppled over at the remark. Instantly Teller stood at Amber’s side and shot his dagger-like eyes toward the stallion. Shock took over Amber, all she could do was stand there as the patron backed away and, with a disappointed snort, sank into the crowd. More ponies passed by her with their own inquiries, but she barely heard them in her current state.

Even as time drug by and the crowd dispersed, the artist still felt unnerved. It ate up at her, and more than once did she glare at Teller intensely. He recognized her scorn, but refused to go any further than that.

After that little incident earlier, that’s no surprise, she murmured to herself. He had been friends with her since the better part of her school days, always silently riding alongside her for the best and worst. In no way was he being different now in his habits. Yet what bothered Amber tonight was his aurora. It felt intense, as if it was more than the stallion could handle. This same, straight look that he always gave to her was now digging in hard with the intensity of a miner.

She could bear it no more.

It was at that moment when an announcer came up and started redirecting the crowd towards the presentation hall. She took advantage of the moment, grabbed Teller by the arm, and took him down an empty corridor.

“What gives, Teller?” she demanded. Her hooves lightly clopped onto the ground.

“I’m not liking what I’m seeing, Amy, especially back there with that freak. That wasn’t you out there!” She was taken aback by such a statement, though she was no stranger to his characteristic bluntness. “Come now, he was a customer!”

“He reeked like a thug! You should have know better!”

“Oh, and what do you want me to do about it?”

“Maybe you should stop throwing yourself out there like you’re a Celestia-damn queen and remember your dignity. I’m positive that that stallion was nothing more than a fraud and you were throwing yourself at his hooves just for him!” As he pronounced the words, her blood began to simmer. Her composure betrayed what was going on underneath her fur.

Teller certainly noticed. “Look, you did work hard to get here, but I’m not seeing that out there. You have skill, so why all of… this?”
“Honestly Teller, you should know better,” she stated in a manner that was more like a thrust at her companion. “See, you need skill, yes, but that’s not what takes you places. That’s not what they want. It’s a show that they want. In the end, that’s all they ever wanted, regardless of what’s up there. They’re crazy for my peacock, and you remember seeing me draw it all the time. Remember how bad it was?” She at once threw up her hoof at the walls surrounding them. “Well, look where it’s at now! All I have to do is put up a few sparkles and they’ll gawk at it so much they’ll frame it on their eyelids.”

“Tricks? You’re joking, right? Is that all you’re going to be using to attract an audience? Do you even know how many tricks you’ll need?” asked the stallion with a hint of cynicism. She flicked a single strand of loose brown hair casually to deadlock both her razor eyes on him.

“I have enough. I’ve worked my whole life up to this point and have taken every advantage I could possibly get. I want to do this as much as I need it. I am an entertainer, after all.”

“You’re an artist, Amy, not some clown for people to watch. Tricks aren’t who you are. It’s skill and inspiration, that’s what! Since when did making others happy by being a circus act become your sole purpose?”

“Always,” she half-lied. “If they’re happy, then I’m happy. Anyone that isn’t can just look the other way. They don’t have to see the show, and there are always more ponies who’ll want to see entertainers like myself to wow them. Those that come are here to see the magnificence that only my kind has. It’s why we exist. To be a light to others.”

By now the crowd had dissipated, leaving only a muffled chatter that echoed the marble-white hallways. A voice hollered in the hallway, stating for everyone to come together for the ceremony. Amber turned on her hooves and weakly motioned at Teller to follow. The stallion huffed while he followed suit.

“This still all seems very absurd and wrong. What are you going to say up there once you have their attention? You can’t honestly be waving your arms for nothing?”

“My art speaks for me, Teller, you know that.” The two crossed the main hallway and were nearing the side of what looked to be a massive auditorium. They knew that everypony was in there, anticipating the unveiling of the next great thing. She now tensed up and picked up her pace as they headed down a side hallway.

“Even simple lines have a voice, Amy. As far as I can tell, I don’t see much in yours.”

Her hooves dropped dead on the ground.

She turned back to the stallion, her eyes now tracing his rigid jawbone structure. On a normal day, by now she would have taunted him or slapped him, usually more out of joke than out of bitterness. This was not that moment. Now, with no one to see or hear, without a single audience member watching them, she wanted to crack his teeth. Her blood was now boiling yet she took great pains in trying to keep it all in. She had to, after all. Succumbing now would do nothing to further her, she chanted mentally.

“At least ponies like my simple lines,” she retorted hastily. Teller took the blow mockingly, only mouthing the word ‘ouch’. The reaction made her smile, but not enough to satisfy her. He had always been good at handling criticism.

At once she resumed her walk. Teller picked up his own pace. Halfway down the hallway, he then crested past the mare, only stopping to open a gray metal door that adjoined the auditorium. He stood there and waited for the artist. Her jaw clenched. She barely had the nerve to walk through that door now, but nevertheless, she went in.

“A thank you would be appreciated,” he mumbled, closing the door behind them.

An “I take back my words” apology would be appreciated too, she mentally said.

Now inside, the pair was shrouded in the darkness of the auditorium’s staging room. Save for a few museum workers who silently acknowledged Amber’s presence, nothing stirred in the back like the silence of a forest of trees. Only a few dozen feet away lay hidden a small sea of faces and countless, countless eyes. Both the stallion and the mare treaded softly, as did their voices.

“Will you just stop and open your eyes Amy? It’s like you’re staring straight at the sun! It’s blinding you! I know you’re better than this.”

“Shut up!” she sniped coldly and quietly. “You don’t know anything, Teller. You never had to please anyone like this herd before. Not only that, you never had a style or skill to present that anypony cared for, and you never threw yourself out there for the world to see. And no one cared either way! What good do you have for the rest of us?”

All this was a lie. Almost the complete opposite of what she said in fact. But she felt the pressure on her hinges. She needed something to say to make him stop and it worked. Teller gave no refute.

Still, some guilt stung in her breast. He always had a way with words, and that’s probably why he had accompanied her for all those years. They were the most unlikely pair: a daring colt that could contemplate and recite poetry, and a shy filly that could bring anything onto paper or canvas. Teller had always been the one who she had followed and aspired to be, even above all the famous stars of Equestria. He always took a chance and he always seemed to have it made. Years went by and they both shared their thoughts and achievements, yet one day Teller went off for ‘better pastures’ as he had said. It had felt like ages as he never spoke to anyone back in Tall Tale Tail. He never told anypony. Only recently had they come back together, but to Amber, Teller never really seemed to be ‘back’. She tried reconciling the changed stallion that trotted beside her since she first laid eyes on him at the train station platform. Yet every conceivable idea as to what had created this new Teller seemed to only provide but a sketch to what had happened. It was a sketch Amber was all too willing to scrap.

Finally they stopped by the curtains. Red, lush velvet loomed overhead, hiding the world from the pair, and the pair from the world.
“Why can’t you just be happy for me?!”

Amber waited for Teller. She knew he had more to say.

But the stallion remained silent, only transfixed on her eyes. The twinkle in his green eyes hid away all he had left to say. Even after insulting his past failings, the stallion still held tightly to his tongue. And it drove her nuts.

“Well? Answer me!”

“Looks like this city did change you.
Amy, I… I have been there for you. Don’t get me wrong, I do care about you and your success. I’m full of joy and pride for you. Your parents, friends, and I even, love seeing you do what you love. But there’s so much more to it all than this stupid showcase. You could spend your entire life beating against the ground, trying to grab everypony’s attention. And you have every right to do so. This though, isn’t you. I know you’re a nice, sweet gal who has always aspired to be the best in spite of her own fears. Yet now you go around as if raising yourself on a pedestal is the only thing that matters and rushing head forward into it. I know what that’s like, and I fear what’s waiting for you.”

Amber fought back the wave of emotions that tore through her body. The war in her veins slashed and clawed at her heart, but her willpower still reigned. He can’t win this one!

“Like what? Fame, respect, attention, and inspiration to all?”

“No. Only what’s at the end of the applause.”

He stepped away from the wall of velvet and deeper into the darkness. For a moment, she swore he sat down on his hind legs and stretched out his forehooves. It was hard to tell. His face was wrapped in the darkness, the only thing she didn’t want to see.

There was so much she had left to say, but a suited pony frantically came along and told her that she came just in time. The host had just finished his longwinded introduction, and was about to present her and her work to the audience. He gleefully pushed her right to the edge of the velvet wall. Amber only struggled to look back at her friend, but it was of no use. He was gone.

Finally in position, the assistant rambled on what was going to happen next. Like back in the showroom, it was all a distorted blur. The unicorn barely grasped what he had said when the assistant finally dashed off, leaving his last clear statement. “Go out there and wow them.”

Her mind was completely numb. Taking a peek through the cracks in the curtains all she saw was a black canvas. Certainly she could feel their presence, but it did little to warm her heart. A cloaked square frame rested on a tripod in the center of the stage, its white back staring back at Amber.

As promised by the stage attendant, the voice finally stopped and called her out. In a matter of seconds, a loud applause rang out in the crowd. On cue, Amber stepped onwards into the limelight while her heart sunk further backstage.

It was mortifying. All the brightness she had witnessed before had now receded into the shadows. Shimmers of light reflected off the eyes of the crowd like the tiny stars of their souls. Then the applause finally ended. And the stars suddenly became sharp. It all hit her now that she was all alone on the stage. Her muscles started to shake as if a distant memory had finally awoken from its slumber. She felt nothing but fear well up in her heart.

Down below her she once more saw the lofty stallion from before. Even in the dark, his coat was still clearly visible above all the other ponies. His eyes, unlike the others, were half-shut in a wicked curve. But the second her eyes dug into his, her confidence came flooding back in. It flowed into her legs and once more she grew and blossomed, just like back in the showroom.

With the flick of her head, she picked up herself and went on, all the same.

Author's Note:

A long time ago, almost two years now, I had written this as a criticism to a girl I knew growing up. It took me probably this long to actually want to present it to the world, though she probably will never see this.

As always, I'd like to give a shout-out to my team of proofreaders, keaton-prower-furman, A Fluffed Pillow, RealityDowngrade, and Majikdrag0n. Don't forget to give this story a thumbs up if you liked it.