Chapter 6 - Dawn Lemon
There was a series of knocks that had woken up the old green stallion. Noticing that it was still dark outside, he turned on a lamp near the nightstand, putting on his rounded glasses to see what time it was. 1:45 in the morning. Scratching his brown, messy beard, he sat up after another round of knocks, he wondered who would want him at this time of night.
Slumping over to put on his house robe and slippers, he walked out of his bedroom, past the rows of unfinished paintings and buckets of paint towards the front door. There were more knocks, quicker and more desperate than before.
“I think I’d heard ya the first time!” He called out. “Just hold on there.” Unlocking the bolts on his door, he swings it open to a very large bare in front of him, along with a pony fling about in its gigantic paw. He blinked. And once again when the bare erupted into green flames that a blue Changeling took its place and allowing the other stallion to fall into the mud of a tulip garden.
“Uh…” He blinked. “What just happened?”
The Changeling lowered herself down onto the front steps of his house. “A-Are you…” She struggled to say. “D-Dawn?”
“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow.
“As in… Dawn Lemon?”
“That’s right.” He tilted his head. “Who are you? What do you want at this time of night?”
At first, Ocellus was at loss for words. But luckily, she was reminded when Pull was getting himself out of the mud. “I uh… I brought you somepony.” She said. “That has something important to say.”
Dawn was confused at first as his attention was turned to the other pony. Turning on a porch light, he tried to get a good look at the stranger covered in mud. He blinked. “Is that…? Pull?”
“Hey, Dawn.” Pull said flatly.
There was silence between them.
“What in blazes happened to you?”
“I turned into an alicorn.” Pull deadpanned. “No, I was minding my own business when this nutcase,” he pointed at Ocellus, “somehow found out that we were in a band, turned into a bear, dragged me all the way here so we could talk or some rubbish.” Ocellus coughed loudly; he rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine!” He got up, look at Dawn in the eye and said, “Dawn… I…”
He hesitated, for a long moment, Pull was silent while his old friend waited.
“What?” Dawn asked. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost two in the morning and I’d preferred to go to bed. Unless you have something worth saying, I’d prefer you to leave.” The mud-covered stallion stayed silent. “That’s what I thought.” Before Ocellus could do anything, before Dawn could retreat into his house to lock up his door and go to bed, he froze when he heard a phrase from Pull.
“I’m sorry.”
There was a pause between them.
“What did you say?” Dawn inquired.
Getting out of the mud, Pull walked onto his doorstep. “Dawn… I don’t expect you to forgive me. After what I said to you blokes… I probably wouldn’t be so quick to forgive either. But at the same time, what I said was unfair, to you especially. Now I’m not asking you to be friends again, I’m not asking for you to forgive and forget what I said. I suppose I’ve been given this chance to at least say that I’m sorry.”
Dawn adjusted his glasses. “You’re… you’re being serious right now, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “The thing is… I still remember how good friends we were. And I still remember how… sour of a note we left things off. Of course, we were stressed, and things had gone bad, but now with time to cool down… I had no excuse for saying those things. It wasn’t fair to you or the others. You can still hate me all you want after tonight, but at least let me try to say I’m sorry.”
Hearing this put Dawn in disbelief. “Hate you? Pull, what gave you that idea?”
“I thought that after what I said-”
“I was hurt.” He told him. “Believe me, we all were. I especially, when you told to my face that I had no talent.”
Pull’s guilty ears folded flatly against his skull.
“To be honest,” he said further, “I didn’t think that years later you’d come to my front door in the middle of the night to say you’re sorry. I mean…” Dawn shook his head. “Fifty years, Pull! I haven’t heard a word from you in fifty years! I thought you’d never changed and yet… Why now? What changed?”
Pull pointed to Ocellus. “She did.”
“Oh, right…” Dawn coughed, “Sorry, what was your name again?”
“Ocellus, sir.” She replied. “If it’s not too much to ask, may we come in for a minute?”
The old stallion sighed. “Fine… Pull, there’s a bathroom down the hall to the left. You miss, come to the kitchen so I could fix some tea.”
Ocellus followed them into the house where Pull went to the bathroom to clean himself up. As she followed Dawn into a small kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice the paintings and art supplies lying about. Then, walking into the kitchen and respectively sitting down at a dining table while the stallion picked up a kettle, she saw an old picture of the band – smiling.
“You know,” Dawn said, filling up the kettle. “Out of all the things that I’d expect of moving to this town, I didn’t think I would run into him again. Or apologizing, no less.”
She didn’t reply.
“But he said you knew we were in a band, is that right?” She nodded. “Maybe it’s because this is the first time I’ve seen a Changeling up close but, if you don’t mind of me askin’, how old are you?”
“I’ll be turning fifteen soon, sir.”
He waved a hoof. “Don’t call me sir, makes me older than I’m already am.” He said, putting the kettle on the stove and turning on the heat. “But how did you know we were in a band? That was years and years ago.”
“It’s… pretty complicated. But let’s just say that I have a… unique memory.”
“Oh?”
“As in… from another universe kind of memory.” He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know it’s crazy, but it’s the honest truth. If anything… I was hoping that I would get both you’re and Pull’s help.”
“In what?” He asked, getting out a few mugs and teabags. “If you’re expecting us to get the band back together, I don’t think that’s-”
“I’m not asking that. If anything, I was hoping that maybe you guys could help me bring back what was lost.”
Dawn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”
Ocellus sighed. “I only remember bits and pieces of songs. Masterpieces that each day I’m slowly forgetting. And the worst part is, there’s no one I could turn to help me except, maybe you guys. There are songs that are important, songs that are timeless, but these are songs that aren’t mine. All I’m asking is to help me piece these songs back together before they’re lost.”
Dawn shook his head. “Filly… You’re asking us to do something we’ve forgotten how to do.” He sat the mugs down. “I haven’t picked up a guitar in years. I’ve been so focused on being an artist that I have forgotten how to be a musician. And even if we could, what makes you think we’d be of any help?”
“Because you started out…” Ocellus said but trailed off.
The old stallion adjusted his glasses. “What?”
“I uh… remember how I said that I have a unique memory? Well, I recalled reading somewhere that with the band you and Pull started, you didn’t know what you were doing either.”
Dawn paused. “Yes… Yes, that’s right. And?”
“Well… You guys just learned as you go. I figured that maybe if I could help you learn how to play again, maybe you could help me in remembering how the songs go.”
“Songs like what?”
“Well… I do know one song that’s supposed to be yours. Only, I can remember half of it.”
“Really? What’s it called?”
“Imagine.” She answered. “It was one of the last songs you wrote before you…” Ocellus stopped; icy dread knifed her in the chest before she could finish her sentence.
“Before I what?” Dawn questioned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Ocellus quickly shook her head. “Do you want me to sing what I know?”
He told her to go ahead while he prepared the tea. Gulping, she closed her eyes and began to sing. As nervous as her voice was shaky, she bid the very artist who made it, to imagine no afterlife, where all creatures live for the moment, that there are no countries worth dying for in wars, but instead to live peacefully. However, she only got so far with her memory with the short chorus: “Ugh, I can’t remember the rest.” She told him. “I know there’s more, but I can’t remember how it-”
“A dreamer.” Ocellus quickly opened her eyes at Dawn, with a sober, solemn expression. “If I could write something like that, I would say that I’m a dreamer. I guess it would only make sense that all my life, I’ve been doing just that. Dreaming for a better world that might never come.”
“To be fair,” the two of them suddenly looked over to a somewhat cleaner Pull who walked in. “That does sound like something you would have made back in the day.” Pulling up a seat next to Ocellus, he asked his friend, “So Dawn… How have you been getting on?”
He yawned. “I’ve lived happily.”
“Oh… and how successful are you?”
“I just said I was happy.” Dawn told him, “I figured that counts as successful. Having a profession that I love to do.”
“You’re an artist?” Ocellus asked, looking back that he paintings in the other room.
“Well, going back to art school helped a little,” he said, “especially after the band broke up. I drifted here and there, trying to find myself. Did paints here, gone to protests there, fell in and out of love with all its complications. But in the end… I found peace. A quiet life to sit down to and pick up a brush. What about you?”
“A sales pony,” he told him, “I’ve gotten married, had a few kids, and doing what I can just to get by.”
“Oh… I see…” Soon enough, the water in the kettle started to steam, and Dawn began to serve the tea to each of them.
For a while, they sat in silence, sipping the hot beverage before Pull spoke up. “So… Ocellus, what exactly do you want us to do? Since we haven’t picked up a guitar in decades and all.”
“Maybe… Maybe I can have my music teacher well… teach you both again. And from there, help me piece together these songs I remember.”
“Songs we’ve never heard of before?” Dawn questioned.
Ocellus shook her head. “No, songs that, as I recalled, you and Pull wrote together. Lyrics and everything. I can only remember bits and pieces. Maybe… Somehow, we could not only bring them back but who knows… make them… better?”
“Suppose we could,” Pull asked, “let’s pretend that we, old geezers who never had a music lesson in our lives, could do just that. Suppose that we could write songs out of those bits and pieces. What’s in it for us? We still have families to support, lives to live, and jobs to go to. Even if we could, why do it?”
“He’s got a point,” Dawn said, sipping his cup. “For me, as much as I love being an artist, even I still have to struggle just to get by too.”
Ocellus sighed into her hooves and thought it over for a moment until she got an idea. “Okay, give me your hooves.” Confused, they did so, and the young Changeling took them into her own. Looking them in the eye she said. “On my honor, my parents, my friends, and my King, I hereby swear to both of you, as well as to Mango and Forge’s son, that when I sing these songs and earn any money because if it, that every bit I earned will be shared to the four of you. I swear that I will not be owned a single bit of money for any future concerts, performances, or anything else that is tied to any of you. And I swear further, that whenever I play your songs, I will give credit where credit is due and say that they are only covers of your songs.”
The old Beatles looked at one another before returning to Ocellus. “You’re being serious now?” Pull asked and she nodded. “I mean, you said you’re a student, aren’t you? That isn’t something that comes chea-”
“I can take care of myself.” She told him. “When I said that I want to do everything in my power to bring the music of The Beatles back, I meant it. But I can’t do this without both of your help. You can have the money, you can have the fame, all I ask is for your help. So please… help me.”
“I think she serious,” Dawn said with a yawn. “But is it possible to do this tomorrow? I still need to sleep.”
Ocellus’s ears perked up. “You mean… you’ll actually help?”
“Don’t get me wrong, young lady, I still think this is all daft.” Dawn shrugged. “However, I can see clearly that you believe in us. It wouldn’t be hurt to at least give you a chance.”
Pull nodded. “I only promise to try. But I still have work to do here in Ponyville for a while.”
“Oh, thank you!” She said, flying up and hugging them both. “Thank you so much!”
“All good,” Dawn said. “But I think it’s about time you start heading to bed yourself. There are still a few things I want to talk to Pull about.”
“Oh absolutely!” She beamed. “So, when tomorrow do you want us to meet up again?”
“Probably noon,” Pull replied.
Ocellus quickly agreed and bid them goodnight. Leaving the old friends some time to talk things over.
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Great chapter, especially the ending.
...
I don’t think Paul has ever worn glasses in his life, however.
9985847
That was a mistake on my part, thanks for catching that. It's been fixed.
Did Ocellus just imply Imagine is Dawn's last song before he died (in that reality)?
Okay, it is nothing strange that a Beatles' fan would listen to their solo works. But I don't think "Imagine" is qualified as a Beatles song. While it is one of the historical song, I believe this story might be better if you only focus on the Beatles' songs. Otherwise, you would have to drag Harrison's "My Sweet Lord", Ringo's "Photograph", and Paul's "Band on the Run" in this story too.
9985892
I think it’s to get John inspired to write music again.
9986029
True. It is one of the most inspiring songs of the generation.
Then, again, this is a fanfic not an actual historical bits. The writer does not need to strictly follow the actual events. Maybe in Ocellus' prior timeline, Dawn did die around the end of the Beatles era and "Imagine" never got a chance to release under the Beatles.
That is one of my favorite song of John Lennon