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A Look Into the Soul
The fireplace embers crackled, and the moonlight poured in. Octavia stood in the center of the room, her cells right by her side, ready to create music. A night by herself, without any appointments or dates or annoying friends to pull her away, left her with a golden opportunity. She had a whole night all to herself and her cello, to explore her inner music.
Her music sheets were carefully put away. Her books on composers were shelved. This journey wouldn’t be focused on any outside influence. The music would completely come from within her.
She could only imagine what she’d find. Adventures into the dreamscape? Patriotism? Appreciation for nature? She couldn’t wait to get start.
With a deep breath, she raised the bow, set it on the second string, and strummed the first note slowly. The lingering note made the world dissolve around her. She felt her senses fade, and then return in the blackness.
The next strum brought feelings to life. It was a simple, pleasant note, and it set her on the cobblestone street of Canterlot—the theater district, specifically. There was just a timber to it that evoked the old wood and curtains of the theater.
More notes followed. The world manifested a few blank-faced ponies in the audience, a few more around her. There was one pony on stage, a stallion with a harp. All the faceless ponies watched awestruck—she just knew it—as he plucked silent notes with the skill of an elite.
Her music took on deeper tones, and her strumming became quicker. The stallion’s strumming ceased, and he rose to take a bow. The other ponies stomped in applause. As the stallion bowed, he looked at Octavia and winked.
She knew him.
Her bowing became staccato, and she found herself charging straight at him. The faceless ponies watched in horror, to stricken with terror to stop her. Her bow pulled back as she leapt onto the stage. With a massive thrust of the bow, she threw something—the bow, her hoof, a knife, she didn’t know—at him.
Each strum of the bow was stronger and powerful, the notes rising as she attacked him again and again. The crowd shrieked and booed without sound. At one instant, he looked up, his face bloody, pleading for mercy.
The moment their eyes met, Octavia’s sprang open. Her bow fell to the floor, and the cello followed. Finally, she herself flopped down onto her rump. As the night slowly wore on, she sat there, paralyzed.
Her heart was racing, her breathing was rough, and her coat was covered in sweat. She knew that for certain. What wasn’t clear was how her brain felt. It was dizzy, that much she could tell. There was something else there. Disgust, maybe?
She scoffed. Not at why she was disgusted, but why it wasn’t certain that she was disgusted.
The stallion was a smug prodigy that lorded it over Octavia whenever he had the chance. “What would a musician from Ponyville know of true music?” he would ask her on multiple occasions. Often times, she had shrugged it off; once or twice she had told him to bugger off. He wouldn’t pester her any more that day.
He was far more successful than her, and she had always thought that unfair. She mused. She thought that jealousy could’ve been the explanation, but that would’ve been ludicrous. Octavia Philharmonica, cellist extraordinaire, jealous over a hothead that was more successful than her?
Her heart dropped. The music had shown her beating him, maybe even murdering him. She had loomed over him.
She had been the one to make him fall.
His smugness fell with him.
He had begged her for mercy.
But she had stopped. What would she have done, had she continued? She wondered how she would’ve made his suffering worse—no, she would’ve asked for help.
She would’ve denounced the town as tone-deaf, and played them real music.
She would’ve beseeched them the get the royal guard.
She would’ve continued whatever she’d been doing.
She would’ve ran for her life.
The possibilities made her feel sick. She thought about putting away her instrument and going to bed; she was obviously in over her head at this point. It would’ve been the best option.
And yet… the stallion’s cheeky smile, and his begging eyes, coaxed her back. The music had shown her something within her, and she needed to know more.
With a deep breath, she righted herself again and began playing the first note.
Her music sheets were carefully put away. Her books on composers were shelved. This journey wouldn’t be focused on any outside influence. The music would completely come from within her.
She could only imagine what she’d find. Adventures into the dreamscape? Patriotism? Appreciation for nature? She couldn’t wait to get start.
With a deep breath, she raised the bow, set it on the second string, and strummed the first note slowly. The lingering note made the world dissolve around her. She felt her senses fade, and then return in the blackness.
The next strum brought feelings to life. It was a simple, pleasant note, and it set her on the cobblestone street of Canterlot—the theater district, specifically. There was just a timber to it that evoked the old wood and curtains of the theater.
More notes followed. The world manifested a few blank-faced ponies in the audience, a few more around her. There was one pony on stage, a stallion with a harp. All the faceless ponies watched awestruck—she just knew it—as he plucked silent notes with the skill of an elite.
Her music took on deeper tones, and her strumming became quicker. The stallion’s strumming ceased, and he rose to take a bow. The other ponies stomped in applause. As the stallion bowed, he looked at Octavia and winked.
She knew him.
Her bowing became staccato, and she found herself charging straight at him. The faceless ponies watched in horror, to stricken with terror to stop her. Her bow pulled back as she leapt onto the stage. With a massive thrust of the bow, she threw something—the bow, her hoof, a knife, she didn’t know—at him.
Each strum of the bow was stronger and powerful, the notes rising as she attacked him again and again. The crowd shrieked and booed without sound. At one instant, he looked up, his face bloody, pleading for mercy.
The moment their eyes met, Octavia’s sprang open. Her bow fell to the floor, and the cello followed. Finally, she herself flopped down onto her rump. As the night slowly wore on, she sat there, paralyzed.
Her heart was racing, her breathing was rough, and her coat was covered in sweat. She knew that for certain. What wasn’t clear was how her brain felt. It was dizzy, that much she could tell. There was something else there. Disgust, maybe?
She scoffed. Not at why she was disgusted, but why it wasn’t certain that she was disgusted.
The stallion was a smug prodigy that lorded it over Octavia whenever he had the chance. “What would a musician from Ponyville know of true music?” he would ask her on multiple occasions. Often times, she had shrugged it off; once or twice she had told him to bugger off. He wouldn’t pester her any more that day.
He was far more successful than her, and she had always thought that unfair. She mused. She thought that jealousy could’ve been the explanation, but that would’ve been ludicrous. Octavia Philharmonica, cellist extraordinaire, jealous over a hothead that was more successful than her?
Her heart dropped. The music had shown her beating him, maybe even murdering him. She had loomed over him.
She had been the one to make him fall.
His smugness fell with him.
He had begged her for mercy.
But she had stopped. What would she have done, had she continued? She wondered how she would’ve made his suffering worse—no, she would’ve asked for help.
She would’ve denounced the town as tone-deaf, and played them real music.
She would’ve beseeched them the get the royal guard.
She would’ve continued whatever she’d been doing.
She would’ve ran for her life.
The possibilities made her feel sick. She thought about putting away her instrument and going to bed; she was obviously in over her head at this point. It would’ve been the best option.
And yet… the stallion’s cheeky smile, and his begging eyes, coaxed her back. The music had shown her something within her, and she needed to know more.
With a deep breath, she righted herself again and began playing the first note.
This was rather odd. I think I understand what you were going for, but I think you may've written something too odd for me to interpret.
There were aspects to this that I quite liked—particularly Octavia's enthusiasm to explore the worlds (and ultimately, the deeper layers of her personality and desires) created by her music, and the attempt to draw something more primal out of her (usually refined and composed) character. It was a nice contrast, which carried the narrative through the weaker moments.
At times the story was very tell-y, with the repetitive opening paragraph and the reveal of her motivation becoming victims of this. I personally thought the latter needed some other device (perhaps another actual character or, dare I say it, a flashback scene), to make this section strong enough to stand out against the rest of the narrative.
I liked it though, and would be interested to see how it might grow within a larger space.
Thanks for sharing your work with the community!
At times the story was very tell-y, with the repetitive opening paragraph and the reveal of her motivation becoming victims of this. I personally thought the latter needed some other device (perhaps another actual character or, dare I say it, a flashback scene), to make this section strong enough to stand out against the rest of the narrative.
I liked it though, and would be interested to see how it might grow within a larger space.
Thanks for sharing your work with the community!
The stallion was a smug prodigy that lorded it over Octavia whenever he had the chance.
This is the exact moment the story becomes telly. You were doing great before this, but this is something you can show the audience and trust us to pick up on. Show us her remembering his actions in order to tell us this part of the story.
The title drop was unnecessary.
Octavia’s cells? This is either a fascinating organism she’s created or over-reliance on spellcheck. ;)
My snarking aside, this was enjoyably intense, though you could fold the characterization of the stallion into the piece. A few minor chords as he wordlessly scorns Octavia, something along those lines. Still, quite nicely done.
My snarking aside, this was enjoyably intense, though you could fold the characterization of the stallion into the piece. A few minor chords as he wordlessly scorns Octavia, something along those lines. Still, quite nicely done.
This started off as a pretty typical story about a musician getting lost in their music, but it ended up taking quite a turn. On the whole, I think it works fairly well. I agree with the others about working on the stallion's characterization, but I still think it's one of the better stories I've read so far.
Some minor typos.
Well, I’m not sold on this one. Found myself skimming over it, which is kind of nasty in a 750-words story. Maybe it’s the massive repetition of words such as ‘strum’, ‘bow’, that threw me off, or maybe the slightly awkward descriptions related to music. I don't really know, but I didn’t feel engaged. Sorry, author.
I think I’ll abstain on this one.
Well, I’m not sold on this one. Found myself skimming over it, which is kind of nasty in a 750-words story. Maybe it’s the massive repetition of words such as ‘strum’, ‘bow’, that threw me off, or maybe the slightly awkward descriptions related to music. I don't really know, but I didn’t feel engaged. Sorry, author.
I think I’ll abstain on this one.
I really really liked this. It captures that awkward tangle of uncomfortable emotions that are just there very well, without making a dumb or judgemental point about them.
People have commented on the description being a bit stiff, and I can't disagree, but I almost think it works as a contrast to the kind of abstract imagery there's supposed to be.
People have commented on the description being a bit stiff, and I can't disagree, but I almost think it works as a contrast to the kind of abstract imagery there's supposed to be.
I think this story was actually pretty decent. Having Octavia start visualizing a hated rival while playing her music is an interesting concept, and I think the execution is done pretty swell until about the last third. There, the dream becomes too specific, telling us exactly who this stallion is and why he sucks. The story had such a nice dreamlike feeling before that it's a bit of a shock to suddenly be hit with this unsubtle diatribe against the stallion. If that last part was revised (sans the ending), I think this would be a pretty solid fic.
A Look into the Soul
>>Ceffyl_Dwr
>>Trick_Question
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>The_Letter_J
>>Monokeras
>>Exuno
>>libertydude
Thank you all for taking your time to give me feedback on this. I understand where you're coming from with the descriptions and telling, and that was my fault. I believe I had actually made a mistake when I said that Octavia had known the stallion. That wasn't my original intention, and I think that it would've been stronger—not to mention it would've accomplished what I set out to do—if I had it the other way. But I suspected my flaw-riddled writing had a hand in it as well.
And I apologize for aggravating you, Monokeras.
I'm not sure whether to continue this. I really, really, really really want to; but then again, this whole idea originated with my distrust of music as an entity, and people may see me as loony because of it. I probably will, though I am hesitant because of that.
>>Ceffyl_Dwr
>>Trick_Question
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>The_Letter_J
>>Monokeras
>>Exuno
>>libertydude
Thank you all for taking your time to give me feedback on this. I understand where you're coming from with the descriptions and telling, and that was my fault. I believe I had actually made a mistake when I said that Octavia had known the stallion. That wasn't my original intention, and I think that it would've been stronger—not to mention it would've accomplished what I set out to do—if I had it the other way. But I suspected my flaw-riddled writing had a hand in it as well.
And I apologize for aggravating you, Monokeras.
I'm not sure whether to continue this. I really, really, really really want to; but then again, this whole idea originated with my distrust of music as an entity, and people may see me as loony because of it. I probably will, though I am hesitant because of that.
>>Not_Worthy2
If it's helps your decision-making process, I ranked this one third, despite the quibbles with the tell-y bits. I really liked the idea and concept, and would happily read an expanded version of the story.
If it's helps your decision-making process, I ranked this one third, despite the quibbles with the tell-y bits. I really liked the idea and concept, and would happily read an expanded version of the story.