Chapter 1
The mulberry colored mare trudged despondently along, ears drooping and her head hanging low to the dirty pavement. It was dark and water dripped from everything. There had been a fine mist falling for most of the day. Even the street lights seemed subdued. Well, at least those that worked. The dreary surroundings matched her mood. Her whole life had become grey, stretching out before her into an eternity of despair.
She was still reeling from the events of the past few days. This trip to Manehatten had been such a bad idea. How had everything gone so wrong? What had she done wrong? Or not done, perhaps? She shook her head. How? Why? She felt a fresh batch of tears escaping her eyes.
As she continued on along her meandering, unplanned path, her ears twitched. What? Then she heard it again. Just the soft brush of sound. No, music. At least she thought it was music. Slowly that thought permeated her consciousness. Music on the back streets of Manehatten? At this hour?!? Cheerilee finally looked up from the roadway.
The sounds seemed to be coming from an alley to her right. She paused and glanced into it. It was your basic back alley, found on any street in Manehatten. Okay, this one might smell a bit worst than most, but still... As she stood there staring blankly down the alley she realized it was the sort of place that good mares didn't venture into. The odds of Bad Things happening were very high. But what did she really have to lose at this point? And that music...
Cheerilee turned in to the alley. She was following the music. It was eerie but beautiful. The sort that makes your mane stand on end while lifting you up from yourself. She needed that last bit. So very much. Looking up, she found herself before a small door that was ever so slightly ajar. Well, that could be taken as an invitation, right? She hooked the door open carefully and stepped inside.
It was dark. Darker than outside. She stood a moment as her eyes tried to adjust. Slowly she started to make out large shapes in the gloom. There was no obvious source of the music. Perhaps it's source was further in? Carefully, she moved forward. Realizing she was behind some sort of wall, she worked her way around it. And stopped dead.
Before her was a small stage. Upon it was the biggest pipe organ she had ever seen, illuminated in a wash of soft light. It took up the whole stage and most of the wall behind it. There were keyboards everywhere. And levers, knobs and pedals galore. In the middle of all this, looking almost like a part of the device itself was a pony. She glowed white amid the gleaming brass and wood surrounding her. Her mane and tail were blue, shot through with hints of aqua. And glancing at the mirror above the pony's head, Cheerilee noticed the purple goggles over the pony's eyes. Vinyl Scratch? Was that really her? But she was DJ Pon3, not a musician! How? What?
Then the music swelled. Crescendoed. It crashed over Cheerilee with an almost physical force. Her head reeled from it. Suddenly she couldn't tell up from down, left from right. She felt like she was floating. She was sure she was. Everything was spinning. Herself, the world, everything. She felt herself being lifted by the music, spiraling upward. Higher, higher, and higher still. When she realized she had clenched her eyes shut, she opened them. Looking in the direction that her instincts said was “ down” she saw the stars and the moon through breaks in the clouds. Looking “up” she saw the rooftops of Manehatten. She saw the sparks of the people inside them. And she realized that they all had lives and all had done things, some that were very bad. Some of the things were by far worse than her situation and had far further reaching consequences. And yet their worlds were not ending. Their lives were not over – far from it! They soldiered on, through it all. They continued. They endured. They tried, even in some small way, to make things right. And they endured. Some even thrived.
Well, most of them did. The ones that didn't made her sad. But they were not hers to fix. And in that moment she realized that all she could do was try to make right what she could. And she knew what she had to do.
At that point the music changed. It mellowed and softened. And slowly she felt herself descending toward the roof of one particular building, the one she had entered what felt like hours ago. She closed her eyes as the roof seemed to swoop up at her. Then she realized the music had stopped. She opened her eyes and found herself once again standing in the room with the stage. But now there was no light shining on the massive pipe organ. And no shining white pony at the keys. She was alone in an old building with an old stage. Dust covered and full of cobwebs. There could never had been music. The dust was so thick, no marks marred the surface. There could never have been any music
She laughed nervously at herself. Obviously she had been so upset that she had some sort of daydream or some such. But the deep feeling of hope and purpose that she had felt amongst the clouds still pervaded her soul. She turned and headed out of the building. She had much to do to make things right.
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From the shadows, a pair of purple goggles watched her retreat. Vinyl Scratch sighed, then smiled. Another one had been helped. Another one would survive. The fact that this time it was a friend made the victory all the more sweet. But there were more out there that needed help. That needed her. Time to get back to work.