Inverno’s Opus in A Minor

by CrackedInkWell

26: Funhouse in Ab Major

Horseshoepin had no idea what was going on. One moment he watched Franz get up on stage and was getting ready to improvise – the next, reality itself went sideways and he was rushed out. He barely had time to process what he saw. Something about paper stars and cardboard cut-outs of a foal’s drawing, then the piano was lifted up and was swinging around with Liszt still playing at the keys.

Now have been shoved out along with the confused contestants, being barred from entering back inside the tent, he was at a loss, not knowing what to do now. He tried to listen to the commotion that was happening inside but given the noise of the park, he couldn’t clearly make it out. At first, he heard Liszt’s music, some mumbled up arguments, and then a violin cuts in with screaming mares. It almost sounded like a brawl that had broken out.

All in all, he hoped that Franz, who was still inside might be alright in there.

Despite Frydrych trying to get some answers – unfortunately, so does everyone else. The entrance of the tent was stuffed heavily with the contestants, all trying to get an explanation out of the guards that blocked them. Even when he too wanted to know what was going on, the tightly packed mob that nearly pushed their way was making him claustrophobic. He needed to get out of this mess to breathe for a moment. So, he clawed his way out of the irritated mass, giving himself some space from them.

Mercifully in front of him was a wooden park bench with no one on it. Ideally, he would sit down to collect his thoughts, and try to figure out a plan regarding Franz. That maybe he would be left alone for a bit to recover to calm his anxiety and bewilderment. However much he would like that as soon as he sat down, it seemed the universe had other plans. Especially with someone asking: “Hey, do I know you?”

Looking up, Frydrych was almost startled by someone’s face is so close. It was a colt, pale as snow, and had scarlet eyes that resembled a cat. For a moment he thought that this was probably one of the freaks that worked here – after all, he had been to a few circuses in his time and all of them had freaks. Only… except for the eyes and the smooth horn on his head, this colt seemed too normal to be part of a freak show.

Frydrych took a moment to catch his breath, and then realize that the colt was still there, waiting on an answer. “Oh huh… I don’t think so.”

“You sure?” the colt tilted his head. “Your face and mane look familiar. I think I’ve seen you somewhere.”

Scooting away a bit in his seat from the infusive young unicorn, Horseshoepin replied, “I think you must have mistaken me for someone else. I’m not anypony.”

“You sure about that?” the colt then jumped on the other end of the bench. “Because I know you look so familiar but I can’t figure out why.”

“Well maybe I happen to have one of those faces,” Frydrych replied being on the very edge of his seat. “Don’t you have a parent or someone to look over you?”

“I have a few ponies foal sitting me, but one of them is using the restroom.” The colt tilted his head this way and that. “But do you know who you remind me of, kinda?”

“As you can see, I make a terrible mind-reader. So no, who?”

“You look that guy, that pianist from… what was it called…? Końland?”

The ears on Horseshoepin’s head perked up.

“From what I was told, he was really, really good at the piano. Like he could improvise on the spot and you would think he spent years practicing.”

He slowly turned towards the colt.

“I think he lived in Prance for a while. And while there he befriended a composer there… Liszt, maybe it was? Sorry, I’m trying to remember here.”

Frydrych sat up in his seat. “Liszt? As in Franz Liszt?”

“Oh yeah! That was the name of the composer but… what was the name of that pianist though? I think it’s right there at the tip of my tongue. Begins with an H, I think. Only what was it…?”

“It’s Horseshoepin.”

The colt blinked, “And is your first name, Frydrych?”

This caught the stallion by surprise. “H-How did you know?”

“You’re him, are you?” With a shine in his feline eye, the colt ecstatically hopped joyfully with a wide grin on his face. “You’re Frydrych Horseshoepin!”

“I- what?”

The colt turned over towards the mob and called out, “Professor Key! Professor! I’ve found him! I’ve found Horseshoepin!”

Frydrych got up, alarmed, “What are you-”

“Over here! Professor! He’s right here!” The colt jumped up and down, waving his forelegs to draw attention.

“Inverno, what are you doing?” A green Pegasus asked.

“I found him!” Inverno said, “I found… where did he go?”

Horseshoepin had left the bench.

“What are you talking about?”

“I could have sworn that he was…” Inverno saw Horseshoepin quickly entered one of the attractions. “Over there, Mr. Buch! One of the composers! He went in there!” Before Buch could get a word out, Inverno took his hoof and dragged him towards the attraction. The Pegasus looked up at the colorful – if nonsensical sign that hanged above the entrance that was built at such odd angles.

WoNdeRland FunhOuSe

Buch didn’t know what a funhouse was, but when he entered inside the attraction, he was taken aback at what he saw. It was as if the design of a house was drawn up by a madmare. There were pieces of furniture that were bolted to the walls and the ceiling, a staircase where each step was tilted at odd angles. There was a fish tank in the middle that did a loop from the floor to the ceiling. And instead of the usual doorways that lead to other rooms, they were through a fireplace, a cabinet under the waterfall sink, and up the slanting stairs.

Inverno stopped, his head looking over at the ways that the other composer had probably gone to. His head frantically looked this way and that as if he were lost. “Which way? Which way?”

“Inverno,” Buch pulled his hoof away. “What has gotten into you?”

“Horseshoepin, he was sitting right next to me,” Inverno said impatiently. “He’s another one of the composers I brought back. Now he’s in this crazy place and I don’t know where to look.”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so.” Buch looked around, he too trying to figure out where to go. “Then chances are, we may still find them.”

“How?”

“I was going to tell you earlier that while I had to find a place to relieve myself, Herr Moztrot had dragged Herr Schubit in here. So more than likely, they may find him. Now whether or not they may encounter him is a different matter. But we should start searching. Perhaps he went up those stairs. Here,” he picked Inverno up and placed him on his back, spreading his wings. “This ought to help make the search swifter.” Then taking flight, he flew up the stairs, going deeper into the funhouse.

---

Frydrych was sure he was completely lost. He wasn’t sure at that moment if being in the confusing funhouse is preferable to be hauled away like a criminal. In a situation where he wasn’t sure what was happening to Franz, and a form of police had arrived at the tent. On top of that, some weird, nosy colt suddenly started calling out as if he had robbed someone. For all Frydrych knew, he was a wanted stallion for a crime he was certain he didn’t commit. He had no idea what the police would do to him or on what charge. But a gut instinct told him to run.

At the same time, his hiding place was a place that he could swear the architect had gone mad but no one had ever stood up to say no to him. He went through a hallway that spun around where he couldn’t stand up straight, a room that was crowded with punching bags that had a clown painted on them, and now he was in a maze made up of mirrors. It was confusing to the eye as he wasn’t sure if what he was looking was a mirror or a piece of glass. Then to add to the confusion, objects were being placed in corners such as fountains and pedestals to be reflected in the mirrors. With every step Frydrych took, he saw copies of himself and other things being reflected to infinity. In his rush through the maze, he wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real or just another mirror to be bumped into.

Yet, while he was lost in the maze, uncertain if he’ll ever find his way out, it did give him a moment to pause to think. How did Franz do all that strange magic where he was certain no unicorn could pull of before? Were those guards or police expecting them since they were already there? Where they there to arrest them – or perhaps contain them for some unknown purpose? And that colt – who was he? How did he know all that stuff about him? Was the colt a part of the guards? And if so, what did they want?

“I think we might have been here before.” Frydrych’s ears perked up. This was a new voice, but where was it coming from? “Because I’m sure we’ve seen this fountain before.”

“Maybe you’re right on this,” another one said in agreement. “Maybe we should have gone right, right, left, left, left, right, left and not right, right, left, left, left, left… Even saying that out loud is making my head dizzy.”

In one of the reflections, Frydrych saw a short, stubby unicorn with glasses going by, followed by an earth pony that gave him pause. The earth pony had a familiar face – one that he saw earlier. From the countless mirrors, it looked awfully a lot like Moztrot.

“Hey, someone else is in here!”

“Where?”

“Just stop for a moment and look, do you see that?”

Now Frydrych could see the two new ponies in every direction, and so can they.

“Hello there!” The white stallion with a pulled-back mane waved. “I take it you’re lost too?”

“I… maybe?” Frydrych said.

“He doesn’t sound too far away,” the unicorn with the specials observed. After adjusting them for a moment he asked, “How long have you been in this crazy place?”

“A few minutes… I think.”

“He sounds really close,” the pale stallion commented, “if fact so close, I’d bet…” Frydrych saw the other stallion reached his hoof out in the glass, and quite unexpectedly, he felt the hoof touch him.

“Gah!” Horseshoepin jumped to the side, only to slam into a mirror.

“Well what do you know,” the pale stallion said, “I didn’t think there was an opening here.” Then he went over to Frydrych and reached out a helping hoof to him that the stallion was certain that it was too real to be a reflection. “Apologies there, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I was merely caught off guard,” Frydrych replied as he was assisted back up on his hooves. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

“Neither did we, but Stick-in-the-mud here didn’t think anyone would come into a place like this. But I said that if it has the words ‘fun’ and ‘house’ at the front then surely it would have been fun to see what’s inside it. But he then he said, ‘Mr. Moztrot, only insane ponies would put up a confusing maze of mirrors in a hou-‘”

“What did you say?”

“House?”

“No, not that, you’ve mentioned about a name?”

“Oh, it’s Moztrot.” He shook his hoof, “Wolfgang Moztrot to be exact. And this walking rain-cloud is Herr Schubit.”

Frydrych blinked, “But you can’t be Moztrot, he’s dead.”

“He is.” Schubit said, “Well, I am too, but not… It’s complicated.”

“Huh…” Horseshoepin looked between the two, “Neither of you had woken up a couple of days ago in a boxcar having no idea how you got there too, but then quickly realized that you’re in the future – have you?”

“A bit on the head, but yep!” Moztrot replied, “And I take it that it happened to you too? Wow, small world, isn’t it?”

“Beg your pardon, but what?” Frydrych asked, “You’re telling me that we’re not alone?”

“We?”

“I came to Manehattan with an old friend, but… Both of you woke up somewhere else and-”

“We woke up in new bodies,” Schubit interrupted impatiently, “Yes, yes. We’ve heard this story over and over again from the others.”

“So…” Horseshoepin raised a hoof, “When you say others…?”

“As in we’re not the only ones. And before you ask, all of us are composers from different time periods thanks to a colt dealing with a form of necromancy and said colt with his father is trying to get all of us back together.”

“…. Is that so?”

“I call it oversimplified,” Moztrot waved a dismissive hoof, “but that is the situation in a nutshell. So, I take it you must be one of us then? Oh! I’m so sorry, I realized I forgot to ask you to introduce yourself.”

“It’s… Horseshoepin. My name is Frydrych Horseshoepin.”

“Charmed!” Moztrot shook his hoof again, “Well, I’m Wolfgang Moztrot and this is Franz Schubit. And currently, we’re lost in this maze too.”

This managed to get a chuckle out of Horseshoepin, “You know, I didn’t think I would ever get to meet you. Only I never thought the real Moztrot would be this…”

“Foalish?” Schubit deadpanned. “Why yes, I’ve noticed.”

Moztrot ignored that jab and instead turned back to the maze, “Nevertheless, we should stay together, hopefully, three ponies could find themselves out of a maze much quicker than two. Let’s go this way!” He said moving forward. Schubit and Horseshoepin followed closely behind him. “Hey, let’s play a game. Since I don’t know you all that well, let’s play reverse twenty-questions.”

“What’s that?” Horseshoepin asked.

“You know how in the normal game you have to ask questions to deduce what your friend is thinking? You do the same thing but in reverse where the answer is you, but we have to figure you out backwords.”

“I don’t think that’s how the game works.” Schubit pointed out.

“My game, my rules.” Then he added, looking over his shoulder, “Let’s make this easy – we’ll ask twenty yes or no questions from both of us.” Then after making a turn he began, “Were either of us alive when you were?”

“I… don’t know about him,” he pointed to Schubit, “but I’m going to say… no.”

“As in after us?”

“I… assume so, yes.”

Moztrot made another turn, “Were you born west of Whienna?”

“No.”

“South?”

“No.”

“So maybe west of Budyonny?” Schubit asked.

“Yes.”

“Ohh,” Moztrot mused, “an Easterner, how very interesting.” He made another turn. “Have you ever performed in any major city in your lifetime?”

“Yes.”

“Like Paris?”

“Oh yes, I moved there.”

“My, you poor soul.”

Horseshoepin blinked, “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know what Paris was like for you, but when I went there – the Parisians lacked in sophistication or taste. Thankfully I didn’t stay there long.”

“That’s funny because Paris has changed when I was there.”

“Hm, perhaps I was there at the wrong time and place. But anyways uh…” He looked over behind him, “you ask a question.”

“Fine…” Schubit mused over for a bit. “Did you compose big pieces for orchestras?”

“Rarely, but overwhelmingly, no.”

“Something smaller?”

“Yes.”

“Like say… the piano?”

“Absolutely yes.”

“So by my count,” Moztrot said, making another turn, “that’s eleven questions asked. Now maybe we should ask for something more useful. Let’s see…” While he thought it over, he made another turn. “Did you ever had a marefriend?”

“How is that useful?” Schubit questioned.

“I had a few, yes,” Horseshoepin answered.

“Were you ever married?” Moztrot inquired.

“No. Never really found anyone I could settle down with.”

“To be fair,” Schubit commented, “I’m more or less in the same boat.”

“Perhaps that explains why you’re a Herr Grumpy,” Moztrot joked. “So, do you remember living long?”

“…. I… don’t know how to answer that. I mean, if you count living up to the age of thirty-nine as long.”

“Thirty-five myself,” Moztrot said. “Hey, what about you, Schubit, how long did you li-”

“Thirty-one,” Schubit interrupted.

Moztrot paused to look between him and Horseshoepin, “How come all the good talent tend to die off before they’re forty? That to me is viscously unfair. But that’s not a yes or no question. And we’re up to… fourteen questions so we have six left. Only, what to ask, I wonder.”

“I have a question,” Schubit looked over his shoulder, “Have you experienced any strange magic that changed reality?”

“What kind of question is that?” Horseshoepin questioned.

“I will take that as a no.” Moztrot nodded, turning around another corner. “How about this, were you ever successful as a composer?”

“…. I don’t think so.”

“Huh,” Schubit paused, “Neither was I.”

“To be fair, I was terrible when it came to money so… probably… not…” He stopped again to look over his shoulder, “But surely, that must be a coincidence. Not all of us that were brought back died unsuccessfully… Right?”

“I… no,” Horseshoepin answered. “No that’s not quite right, my friend Franz Liszt was very successful, even near the end of his life as he told me.”

“Very well.” Moztrot turned another corner. “That just leaves two more questions left.”

Schubit blinked, “No, there’s still three left.”

“I asked a yes or no question, so I think that counts.”

“Well regardless, I do have a question.” Schubit then asked after Moztrot turned another corner in the maze. “If given the chance, knowing that we’re in the future, would you still want to return to the place you called home?”

“Even if I could at least see my native Końland for another minute, I would.”

“Ah,” Moztrot nodded, “Now that is indeed interesting since where I come from, I didn’t know many composers from Końland.”

“Understandable,” Horseshoepin nodded, “even when I was a foal, ponies have hailed me to be the next Beethooven. Although personally, I don’t think I’ve ever reached his level.”

“You’re lucky,” Schubit remarked, “at least you’re not being accused of copying Moztrot.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” Moztrot inquired.

Schubit snorted, refused to answer.

In the awkward silence, Horseshoepin coughed in his hoof. “So, I believe there is one more question remaining?”

“Yes, there is!” Moztrot said, taking another turn. “Do you like parties?”

“Well… not big ones. I actually prefer ones that are small and there are a few good friends around. The kind you could let your guard down for a while.”

Just then, Moztrot took another turn and seemed to have disappeared for a moment. Schubit and Horseshoepin blinked. Before they could ask where he went, Wolfgang poked his head back, “I found the way out!”

“Finally,” Schubit sighed out in relief. “These mirrors were giving me a headache anyway.”

So Horseshoepin and Schubit walked out of the maze and into a room where the entire floor was filled with brightly colored plastic balls. The two stallions stood on a short platform and they noticed a similar door just across from them. However, they were confused as they didn’t see Moztrot anywhere.

“Mr. Moztrot?” Horseshoepin asked aloud. “Where are you?”

“Hello!” Moztrot shouted, his head popping through the colorful balls with a gleeful smile.

“Gah!” Schubit screamed, being so startled that he lost his balance and fell into the carpet of balls. A moment later he resurfaced. “Huh?” He looked around, holding up a blue plastic ball in his hoof. “What is this?”

“Isn’t this delightful?” Moztrot asked, who was swimming among the balls. “I’d bet there’s never been an aristocrat whoever thought of installing a pit full of balls filled with air.” He waved over to Horseshoepin, “Come on in, friend! The balls are fine. He-he, balls.”

Schubit rolled his eyes.

Horseshoepin looked over the edge of the short platform. “How deep is it?”

“Just to give you an idea,” Moztrot said, taking a moment to pause, allowing the balls to go halfway up his neck. “I can feel the floor just by standing. So come on in! Have a bit of fun.”

Seeing that it would be the only way to get across, Horseshoepin took care to avoid Schubit and jumped right in. He immediately felt the floor, but for the most part, the plastic balls held him up. While he was suspended, he had a brief thought that maybe, this is how Pegasi feel when they walk on clouds.

Still, while he swam among the orbs of blue, red, yellow, and green, there was something about this situation that was… foalish, in a playful way. He saw Moztrot grabbed one of the balls and tossed one over at Schubit. Despite the annoyed expression Schubit had and Moztrot laughing, he laughed too. In a way, it reminded him of the winters of his youth where the foals would toss snowballs at one another to the point a full-out battle would occur in the street. For a moment, while Moztrot was throwing a few in his direction and he did so back, he briefly forgot that he was playing with a musical giant. It was as if for a moment, he got his foalhood back.

“Ugh!” Schubit swam over to the exit, grumbling, “I’m surrounded by children.” After he swam over the balls and onto the other platform he looked at what was on the other side of the doorway. “Somehow, I should have expected this from an eccentric place as this.”

“Oh! I love eccentric,” Moztrot said, “what did you find?”

“There’s a slide here.” Schubit leaned a little into the doorway and over the side. “This one looks long and it twists around to the bottom. Well, if it means getting out of here.” Schubit sat down and push himself to slide downward.

Moztrot’s eyes went wide with joy. “Frydrych! I’ll race you!”

Still at that playful high, Horseshoepin and Moztrot rushed over to the platform like foals would to be the first to get the first batch of sweets. They clawed on there to be the first to go down the slide. And though Frydrych didn’t get to reach it first, it didn’t dampen his rhapsodic happiness as he began to slide down the metallic half tubes that twisted all the way down.

Within the first few moments, something inside of him felt that emotion that was so strong that it unexpectedly exploded out from him. All around him he heard a piano playing loudly as if it were coming from inside his withers. And it was something that he knew well. An etude that rushed out like a rapid river with notes going as fast as he was sliding down echoed out.

The moment that music came out of Horseshoepin that the slide had dramatically changed. While the three were still sliding down, the slide had moved like a serpent and split like a river. In time with the music, the three stallions were sliding down, sideways, upside-down, and even backward. Some looped while others bounced like a sled over rolling hills. They even jumped and landed on other slides. It was as if the three of them were being juggled by the slide itself.

Schubit was screaming and seemed to be turning green.

Moztrot was screaming too but he was from having the time of his life.

And Horseshoepin was laughing in amazement at what was happening all around him.

Was this what was going on with Liszt? Horseshoepin wondered. Is this the reason why they were being sought after? If so, he could see why as all of this was almost unbelievable to him. The way the twisting slide was bending in time to the music, he suddenly realized that at that from his short etude – he was the one controlling reality to his amusement.

Now everything made sense!

Yet, as soon as the fantastic magic started, the music went through its final bars to its ending. As if anticipating this moment, the diverging slides soon joined as one as the three of them nearly collided with one another as they reached the very bottom with the exit in sight. When those final chords came to close out the piece, the three of them landed on a blue padded mat, tumbling into one another.

Schubit was the first to land on this mat, followed by Moztrot and then Horseshoepin on top of him.

“That was incredible!” Moztrot shouted.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Schubit said, his face turning green and trying his best to hold his bile in for the tenth time that day.

“What…” Horseshoepin looked behind him at the slide that has turned back to normal. “What was that?”

“Remember that thing about having magic?” Moztrot asked and he nodded. “That is what we were talking about. And from what I’ve seen and heard,” he shook his hoof. “I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!”

“There you two are!” The three of them looked up to see Buch and Inverno there. Buch put the colt down. “We were looking all over this madding place for you.”

“Especially you,” Inverno pointed at Horseshoepin.

“Oh hey!” Moztrot wrapped a hoof around Frydrych. “You’re just in time to meet a new friend of mine.”

Comments

[Script Singer]

Can't wait for the next chapter!