From Noon to Dawn
The sun's rays filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across Vinyl Scratch's bedroom. She blinked herself awake, and winced as her eyes hurt from the few shards of light that made it unimpeded into her room. Her albinism meant that her eyes were very sensitive to light because her irises didn't have any pigment. This allowed light to shine through them in an uncomfortable manner that couldn't be blocked out without assistance.
As a consequence, she always made sure her signature shades were within reach on the nightstand. Slipping them on she let out a contented sigh as the pain in her eyes stopped and the world became a canvas of muted colours, a relief from the harsh splinters of daylight.
She rolled out of bed, shades now comfortably in place, and looked fondly at the practice turntables occupying a corner of her room. Music wasn't just a hobby for her—it was a way of life. The means by which she could make connections with other ponies.
Her saddlebags were where she'd dumped them after getting in only a few hours before dawn. After had finished at the club the night before, she'd spent time walking through the darkened town. The rush from the pulsating beats of her electrifying DJ set meant she always needed to decompress. The star-studded sky, casting a soft silver glow over the deserted streets, and soothing night breeze whispering through her mane were a necessary way of unwinding before heading home to rest despite how much later it kept her up.
She paused by her dresser to run a brush through both her mane and tail using her magic. Vinyl's layered cut style was dyed in streaks of neon blue and teal, a reflection of her vibrant personality that suited her better than her natural white colour. Her look wasn't impeccably sleek, but she was careful to never appear unkempt either.
The final piece of the puzzle before she ventured beyond her sanctuary was her headphones, which she drapped around her neck. At this point in the day neither the sounds inside or outside her head were bothering her, but when needed she could channel music to match her moods or just have her own bubble of silence.
Downstairs in the cosy kitchen, Octavia's melodious voice filled the air. The elegant earth pony mare, who was Vinyl's patient housemate, had prepared lunch for them both. "Good afternoon, Vinyl," Octavia greeted as she entered the kitchen, setting a plate of sandwiches on the table.
From anypony else this would have sounded passive-aggressive. Octavia was well used to her housemate keeping unsociable hours. She simply treated midday as Vinyl's breakfast time, and understood that the late mornings were in no way an indication of laziness.
Vinyl's lips curved into a warm smile as she levitated a sandwich. Octavia's companionship was a source of comfort, a steady presence that filled the quiet moments away from the world public performances that was an unavoidable part of their chosen professions.
"Did you have a good gig last night?" Octavia continued, her words gentle as she nudged the plate closer to Vinyl. "I heard some of the ponies talking very warmly about it at Sugar Cube Corner this morning."
Vinyl took a bite of the sandwich, the flavours a familiar blend that made a comforting anchor to her day. She nodded as she chewed, her shades meeting Octavia's eyes in a silent exchange. The club had been buzzing, and Vinyl was sure everypony had a good time.
Octavia's voice wove a one-sided conversation as Vinyl ate her lunch. The earth pony's words flowed like a steady melody, her voice a comforting backdrop to Vinyl Scratch's vivid imagination. The elegant grey mare shared tales of the town, snippets of gossip, and anecdotes from the day. Vinyl listened attentively, her occasional nods and gestures serving as her responses.
As Octavia spoke, Vinyl couldn't help but conjure mental images of ponies engaged in animated discussions. It was like a mental theatre playing out before her. With each piece of news, Vinyl's emotions danced to their own rhythm. A tale of a foal's first flight filled her with a warm glow, while a humorous anecdote about Granny Smith's latest escapade elicited a silent laugh. Octavia's descriptions of the day's events were like the conductor of an orchestra, with sweeping melodies and breaks forming a soundtrack for the life of the town's ponies within Vinyl's mind.
As the conversation continued, Vinyl felt a sense of connection with the town she couldn't express in words. Octavia's storytelling allowed her to participate in the ebb and flow of Ponyville life, even when she was lost in her music. It was a unique form of communication, where images and emotions replaced the need for verbal responses, and Vinyl cherished these moments she shared with her housemate.
"I'll be heading out to the garden after lunch," Octavia said, her mane flowing as she finished speaking. "I thought it would be a lovely day to practise in the sun."
Octavia liked to play her cello outdoors whenever she could. The neighbours never minded the free recital from a renowned Equestrian musician, and she felt the turn of seasons and the rhythm of the wind inspired her.
Vinyl finished her sandwich, a contented hum escaping her lips. She extended a hoof toward Octavia, the gesture a silent expression of gratitude. Octavia stepped closer and held her own hoof over Vinyl's, a small but meaningful connection for the nonverbal pony.
Octavia placed an elegant sheet of notepaper on the kitchen table, its pristine white surface adorned with Rarity's distinctive calligraphy and cutie mark. She turned toward Vinyl, and summarised the contents. "It appears Rarity has sent a request. She's hosting an evening event on Friday next week and would like you to DJ again."
Vinyl took the note with a magical aura. She could read, although learning to do so had been a monumental task for the mute pony. Her expressive face, the only window into her thoughts, met Octavia's and conveyed gratitude for the kind gesture of reading the note for her. The invitation hung in the air, a welcome offer that held promise as Rarity was a generous client.
"She'd like you to confirm that you'll be available no later than tomorrow,” continued Octavia.
Vinyl's mind was never occupied with words. Unlike all of the ponies she met, Vinyl had no inner monologue. She was a being of pure reaction and emotion, with no inner voice to compile what she wanted to say. Vinyl had never spoken or written a single word in her life, and had no means of translating her rich emotional experience into anything other than the music she produced.
Vinyl glanced at the calendar on the wall, her shades concealing her emotions. Her decision had to be bound by time; this was a limited window of opportunity. Rarity's note made it clear that she only had a couple of days to respond, or the opportunity would pass.
Vinyl's manager organised out of town bookings, but Octavia was kind enough to keep a visual, colour coded reminder of her commitments when at home. With no inner monologue, Vinyl found it hard to comprehend such an abstract concept as planning for the future. She was a pony forever in the moment, which was one of the things Octavia enjoyed. Vinyl never engaged in introspection or procrastination; if something needed to be done or somepony needed assistance she would instinctively act.
In silence, Vinyl reached for the note with a deliberate motion. She looked at the invitation, her shades hiding her emotions as she weighed her feelings. The urgency in Rarity's request spoke to her, the knowledge that hesitation could lead to missed opportunities. She looked to her housemate and gave the briefest of nods.
"Very well," said Octavia, reaching for the appropriately coloured stick of chalk, "I'll add this to the calendar for you."
As Octavia added a sketch of Rarity's cutie mark in charcoal to remind Vinyl who the appointment was for, which elicited a smirk from the mute pony at the gothic looking black outline it gave to the normally refined Octavia's lips. Vinyl looked at the entry for today. The middle part of the day was coloured with the shade that indicated Canterlot. It was accompanied by a sketch of a crescent moon. This would have indicated that any other pony was late for her appointment, but where most pony's calendars had days that ran from midnight to midnight, Vinyl's started and ended at midday.
She moved from the kitchen back to her bedroom and quickly packed what she needed for the booking in Canterlot. She'd stop by the Carousel Boutique on her way to the train station to let Rarity know that the appointment for her show was confirmed.
Vinyl Scratch cantered through the bustling streets of Ponyville, her presence met with warm greetings and friendly smiles from every pony she passed. One thing that could be said about Vinyl with absolute certainty was that she never had a bad word about anypony. More than that, she always greeted everypony with a happy smile or wave, and for this alone was well regarded amongst the residents of Ponyville.
The sun bathed the town in a gentle afternoon warmth, that spoke of mild nights just right for outdoor parties. Her vibrant mane flowed in rhythm with her pace and her headphones cradled her ears, filling her world with mellow tunes that matched the leisurely cadence of the day.
As she trotted past the various shops and stalls, she caught snippets of conversation and laughter from ponies going about their business. Vinyl loved these moments, feeling a part of the vibrant tapestry of Ponyville life. The town had a heartbeat, and today it pulsed with harmony and contentment in a way the bigger towns and cities didn't.
She was going to make a brief visit to Rarity at the Carousel Boutique before leaving on the late afternoon train to Canterlot. The prospect of weaving musical magic into one of Rarity's shows always filled her with excitement, and switching to providing an ambient soundtrack for the soirée afterwards was always an enjoyable way to showcase some of her more Avant Garde compositions.
If Rarity was looking to showcase her formal gowns she'd enlist the help of Octavia and Lyra Heartstrings to provide a more elegant soundscape. For her more casual and edgy creations the dance music of Vinyl was her go-to solution. Although she would probably make far more from concentrating on her Canterlot and Manehattan boutiques, Rarity still chose to exhibit her collections in Ponyville. These shows attracted fashionistas from bigger cities to get the scoop on Rarity's collections, and Rarity was always generous enough to showcase local talent.
With her discerning eye for detail and an unwavering commitment to perfection, she always sought to infuse her fashion shows with a touch of local artistry and elegance. She believed in nurturing and showcasing Ponyville's residents and often got local mares like Lotus Blossom and Aloe to model for her runway shows, recognizing the unique charm they brought to her designs.
Her dedication to Ponyville was a testament to Rarity's deep appreciation for the community that had always been her home. Through her fashion shows, she not only expressed her creativity but also celebrated the artistic spirit that thrived in the hearts of Ponyville's residents.
Underneath her cool exterior, Vinyl Scratch was a pony who thrived on these connections and creative partnerships that made Ponyville such a special place. For Vinyl, collaborating with artists from diverse media wasn't just about creating music; it was about the exhilarating journey of merging different forms of expression. Whether she found herself working with visual artists, writers, or even dancers, the experience was a source of immense satisfaction.
When she collaborated with visual artists, Vinyl marvelled at how their paintings and sculptures inspired new melodies within her. The colours and shapes breathed life into her compositions, and the resulting fusion of visual and auditory artistry was nothing short of mesmerising. Rarity's fashion shows were no different, and Vinyl loved the challenge of matching the soundtrack to the colours of the clothing and the physical movement of the models.
The bell on the door of the Carousel Boutique tinkled as Vinyl used her aura to push it open. Rarity turned from where she was draping some fabric over a mannequin, and smiled when she saw the mute visitor.
"Darling," she said, trotting over to give Vinyl an air-kiss on each cheek, "so good to see you. Does this mean you'll provide the musical accents to my show?"
Vinyl smiled and nodded.
"Wonderful," exclaimed the fashionista, "let me give you a preview of the collection. Maybe it will give you some inspiration as to the musical direction?"
Vinyl tilted her head, seeming to indicate that she felt there was nothing to lose by this course of action.
Rarity turned and trotted towards the work room that was behind the shop, indicating for Vinyl to follow, "I'm sure I can trust you not breath a word of what you see to anypony."
Vinyl raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if that was a rhetorical question.
"Of course, darling, you are the very spirit of discretion," Rarity agreed, "here we are, my fall ready to wear collection."
Vinyl took in the assorted articles of clothing, which were arrayed on a platoon of mannequins. The shapes and colours suggested sweeping orchestral notes and refrains. Details of fasteners and trim patterns were percussive beats.
She looked toward Rarity with a broad grin, her head nodding to an imaginary beat already. Rarity smiled back and showed the DJ out, "see you Friday after next."
The next stop for Vinyl was the Ponyville train station. She paid her bits for a ticket and settled in the platform café with an oat latte to drink. There was a little time to kill, so she watched the clouds pass by and the rainbow trails of Ponyville's weather pony at work.
Vinyl Scratch sat comfortably in her train carriage as it glided along the tracks towards Canterlot. Her signature shades perched on her muzzle, and her vibrant mane framed her face. She gazed out of the window, the passing scenery a canvas for her imagination as the sun sank lower to the horizon.
The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks merged seamlessly with the low-frequency hum of the other passengers talking. To Vinyl, it was like the opening notes of a new track, and her mind started to weave melodies and beats around these sounds. A subtle tapping of hooves on the floor provided the percussion, and the gentle sway of the carriage added an organic rhythm to her internal soundtrack.
Vinyl Scratch's mind was a constant symphony, a realm where thoughts were translated into beats, rhythms, and melodies. She had never known the quiet company of an inner monologue; instead, her thoughts manifested as an unending soundtrack of internal echolalia that accompanied her every waking moment.
From the moment she opened her eyes in the morning until she drifted into sleep at night, Vinyl's mind was alive with music. Interactions, daily tasks, and even her own thoughts were converted into melodies that swirled and danced within her head. It was a continuous accompaniment of sound and rhythm, an intricate tapestry of tunes that she alone could hear.
It was this unique aspect of her consciousness that had drawn her to a career as a DJ. The compulsion to manifest these inner melodies and rhythms had become an integral part of her life, a sort of musical tic that she couldn't resist. Vinyl Scratch wasn't just a DJ; she was a conductor of her own inner orchestra, sharing her vibrant world of sound with the ponies of Equestria.
Beyond the window, the landscape unfolded like a visual symphony. Rolling hills, dotted with emerald-green trees, appeared to her as musical notes on a grand stave. Each hill and tree had its own note, forming harmonious chords as the train moved past them. The colours of the countryside, from the vibrant greens to the rich sunset hues of the sky, blended into a visual melody that resonated with the sounds in her head.
As the train journey continued, Vinyl's synesthesia created a unique fusion of senses. She watched as melodies and harmonies danced before her eyes, their colours and shapes shifting with the passing landscape. A refrain rose and fell to the peaks and valleys of Rambling Rock Ridge, as it passed by on the horizon. Vinyl Scratch was in her element, fully immersed in a sensory experience that turned an ordinary train ride into a symphonic masterpiece.
The other ponies in the carriage were utterly oblivious to the soundscape playing out in Vinyl's mind. They sat in quiet conversation, or immersed in a book. Only the gentle tapping or a hoof or nod of her head gave away that there was a symphony of epic proportions going on within the confines of her head.
In a dimly lit cellar of Canterlot Castle, the atmosphere was electric. A sea of ponies gathered on the dance floor, their hooves moving in perfect harmony with the pulsating beats that filled the air. At the centre of it all, atop a platform bathed in vibrant neon lights, stood Vinyl Scratch, the pony of ceremonies.
Vinyl's shades were fixed in place, and her eyes focused on the turntables before her. With effortless finesse, she worked seamlessly, transitioning from one track to the next in an unbroken wall of sound. With the deftness of a conductor wielding her baton, Vinyl Scratch worked the turntables with masterful precision.
Her hooves danced across the mixer's buttons, coaxing out intricate refrains and rhythms that resonated through the room. But she wasn't merely a DJ; she was a maestro of the crowd, orchestrating their every move. Her eyes scanned the sea of eager faces, and with a wave or a subtle nod, she urged them to syncopate their movements to her beats, creating a visually mesmerising spectacle.
As the crowd moved and grooved to her tunes, the energy in the room soared. Ponies of all kinds, from Canterlot elites to visiting ravers, let loose in the underground haven. They swayed and twirled, their laughter and cheers merging with the music, creating a euphoric symphony of joy.
As the night surged forward, she seamlessly weaved together tracks and genres, harmonically mixing them into a symphony of sound that defied classification. Her drops were timed to perfection, each one a sonic explosion that sent waves of anticipation and exhilaration rippling through the dancers. The crowd responded in kind, their energy building to a frenzied crescendo. Vinyl Scratch wasn't just DJing; she was sculpting an experience, a whirlwind of excitement and emotion that left her audience breathless and lost in the moment.
Amidst the revelry, a sight caught the eye of many: a figure with a regal aura gracefully dancing among the crowd. Princess Luna, her ethereal mane and tail shimmering like a cascade of stars, was there to join the revellers. Her hooves moved with the utmost grace and rhythm, and her usually overwhelming presence was consumed by the communal festivity. Anypony who knew the princess would have been amazed to see her normally stern and formal posture replaced by an expression of pure joy as she abandoned her reserved nature to enjoy the simple pleasure of dancing with strangers.
Vinyl Scratch's music was more than just beats; it was an invitation to let go, to lose oneself in the rhythm and crowd. With each beat, she conducted the mood of the dancers, taking them on a journey through sound and emotion. The cellar vibrated with the shared ecstasy of ponies united by music.
As the night turned, the music continued to weave its spell, and the dance floor pulsated with life driving away any fatigue the crowd may have been feeling from the frenzied dancing. Vinyl Scratch continued her mesmerising set, and the room was bathed in a kaleidoscope of colours. Multicoloured lights danced in perfect sync with the music, creating a dazzling visual spectacle that mirrored the intricate tapestry of sound she was weaving. The crowd was awash in a sea of vibrant hues, that by turns highlighted or concealed ponies as their hair colouration synchronised or clashed with the strobing light effects.
The intensity of both sound and vision steadily grew, building towards a climax that would be nothing short of euphoric. And then, as the final, heart-pounding track surged to its zenith, Vinyl Scratch released a burst of pyrotechnics from her horn. Fiery trails streaked across the room, exploding into brilliant displays of light above the ecstatic crowd. It was a breathtaking moment of sensory overload, the culmination of Vinyl's artistry, leaving the audience in awe of both her musical prowess and her magical prowess.
As the buzzing high of the night began to ebb away, Vinyl Scratch found herself looking down at the remnants of a vibrant evening at the club from the DJ booth. The dance floor, once a sea of moving bodies, was now dotted with a few lingering ponies, their energy spent and spirits sated. The neon lights that had painted the room with vibrant colours were now replaced a softer, more subdued glow.
With the efficiency of long practice, Vinyl packed up her saddlebags to leave. She carefully reset the mixing desk, securing the turntables on their stands and switched the amplifiers off. The music from her set, which had once throbbed with a life of its own, now rested once more in the space within her head.
Outside, the hints of dawn began to define the horizon, casting a rose hue above the streets of Canterlot. Vinyl's work was done, and as she surveyed the club one last time, a sense of contentment washed over her. The night had been a symphony of beats and melodies. Now, as the exhausted partygoers made their way home, Vinyl knew that she had played her part in creating a memorable and harmonious experience. With her gear securely packed, she left the club, ready to rest and recharge for the next night of music and magic.
Before heading to the suite that had been prepared for her at Canterlot Castle, Vinyl Scratch made a detour to an all-night café that she knew. It was a cosy and dimly lit spot, the perfect refuge for a tired soul seeking a moment of peace.
As she entered, the aroma of freshly brewed tea and the comforting scent of late-night snacks enveloped her senses. The café was nearly empty, save for a few ponies scattered at different tables, all wrapped in their own quiet contemplation.
Vinyl chose a corner booth by the window, the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow on the table. She ordered a cup of calming chamomile tea and a small plate of pastries, hoping they would help soothe her racing thoughts.
With her tea and snack before her, Vinyl took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. The constant music in her head, had yet to subside from the adrenaline fuelled high of a club night. She knew that she needed to quiet those melodies before she could truly rest.
She focused on her cup, the warmth seeping into her hooves as she cradled it. Slowly, she let her thoughts drift, allowing the music to soften and the tempo to slow, like a distant tune fading into the night. She savoured the soothing aroma and the sensation of the tea as it passed her lips, grounding her in the moment.
Amidst the gentle ambiance of the café, Vinyl Scratch found the stillness she craved. The harder edged melodies in her head began to recede, replaced by the gentle lullaby of the night outside. Vinyl knew that this moment of peace was a precious gift, a bridge between the world of music and the serenity of rest that awaited her in Canterlot Castle.
With her comedown completed, it was time for Vinyl Scratch to make her way to the suite provided by Princess Luna at the magnificent Canterlot Castle. The night had been a whirlwind of activity but now the tranquillity of the castle offered a welcome respite and the embrace of restful slumber she craved.
The suite was a sanctuary of luxury and comfort, fit for visiting nobility. The plush bed, adorned with silky sheets, promised deep and rejuvenating sleep. She couldn't help but appreciate Princess Luna's thoughtfulness in providing such a haven.
Vinyl wasted no time in preparing for bed. She removed her signature shades and set them aside, allowing her sensitive red eyes to finally rest. With a contented sigh, she approached into the inviting bed, feeling the weight of the night's excitement slowly melt away.
Just as she was about to pull back the covers, there came a gentle knock at her door. Surprised, Vinyl turned from the bed and approached the entrance. Opening it, she found Princess Luna standing there, her magical presence casting a soft, calming glow in the room and giving no hint of the hours she'd spent dancing energetically in a packed basement.
Vinyl looked up at the Princess, her usual cool exterior momentarily giving way to a hint of surprise. She also felt a momentary thrill of attraction, as the royal sisters couldn't help but inspire desire in all who enjoyed their company. She coyly gestured for the alicorn to enter her suite.
Luna offered a warm smile. "We wish to personally thank you for a wonderful night, Vinyl Scratch," she said in her regal yet gentle voice. "Your music has brought joy to the hearts of all this evening."
Vinyl was overwhelmed by the princess's kind words and gave an appreciative nod.
"Although there doth be many changes in Equestria," the Princess continued, "some of which art strange and confusing, that thou and other ponies enjoy the night and view it as a time of merriment and revelry pleases Us."
Vinyl's expression changed to a broad smile.
"The continuing success of Our full moon parties is gratifying," added the Princess, "and sharing time with Our subjects whilst they doth be awake is truly a wonderful gift. To spend these hours dancing like a filly is so liberating, thy music doth be as a bridge to enjoyment that We have rarely crossed before."
However, Luna's visit wasn't just about gratitude. She seemed lost in thought, her gaze wandering to the rosey-hued landscape, brightening outside the window. "Thou knoweth," she began, her voice carrying a contemplative tone, "We've often wondered about the nature of conscious experience in the fulfilment of Our duties. Dreams are a realm where ponies explore their inner thoughts and desires. But thou, Vinyl Scratch, are an enigma."
Vinyl raised an eyebrow, curious about Luna's musings.
Luna turned her gaze back to Vinyl, her eyes holding a hint of sadness. "Thou art filled with music from dawn to dusk, a never-ending melody that doth not leave thy waking mind. Yet thee hath never held an opinion, nor hast thee ever shared a thought?"
Vinyl gave a shrug. She had nothing to say on this, or any topic.
"Thou cannot dream as other mortals do, can thee? The periods of repose are for thee a void. Thy slumbering mind is impenetrable to Our dream walking, as no other pony is."
Vinyl nodded slowly. She'd heard ponies describing their dreams but had no means of imagining what they would be like, or the inner voice to muse as to their nature.
Luna's expression softened as she continued, "But what if, in thine own way, thou experience something profound?
"Most ponies, when awake, are aware they possess a world of dream within. Yet when slumber pulls them into its depths, it doth be beyond the grasp of the sleeper to know anything other than the dream realm. Thus they art blind to the existence of the waking world within their minds, until such time as their slumber ends and they awaken to it once more."
Vinyl nodded slowly, unsure of what the Princess was alluding to.
"And dreams are wordless places of emotion, devoid of past and future. What if thy mute experience of music and melodies are those of a slumbering mind?"
The Princess gazed deeply into Vinyl's rarely seen eyes. It seemed as though she was looking into the DJ's mind, as though to see what she experienced of the world.
"If thoust be dreaming this existence, when thy find repose where doth thy mind go? If it truly be beyond the veil of consciousness, then dost thou have a life yet unseen? Maybe thy voice lies beyond that horizon."
For the first time Vinyl's smile faltered. An unfamiliar flicker of existential dread slithered through her mind. The feeling lasted a moment and was gone, as her thoughts flowed through the eternal now, which was all she could comprehend.
Princess Luna's ethereal eyes sparkled with curiosity as she mused further, "And yet, thou create dreams with thy music. Thee transport ponies to different worlds, evoke emotions, and paint pictures with thy melodies. In a way, Vinyl Scratch, thou are a dreamweaver of thine own unique kind."
Vinyl contemplated Luna's words. Her gift, as unusual as it was, held a unique beauty of its own. It was a different way of experiencing the world, and perhaps, it was a dream of its own—a dream made of music.
As Luna bid her goodnight and departed, Vinyl turned once more to her bed. With the music of her mind as her constant companion, she closed her eyes and hummed a quiet lullaby to herself that made a natural diminuendo.
The room fell silent, save for the gentle rustle of curtains as they swayed in the breeze. Vinyl Scratch surrendered to the embrace of sleep, unconscious of the passage of time and beyond the reach of magic and observation.