I promised I would marry her upon a certain day

Instead of that I was resolved to take her life away

I went unto her fathers house, the eighteenth day of May

And said 'My dear Willow, we will fix the wedding day'

Twilight bolted awake and upright without knowing why. She was then prodded again by the blue pegasus sat next to her. She clasped her hooves around her head, realising that the sound muffs were missing. Rarity gave a cheerful wave from across the compartment; she had removed them from the sleeping Twilight not more than an hour ago.

“Afternoon, sleepy!” slurred Applejack from underneath a selection of hastily gathered complimentary towels and blankets, probably from other empty compartments. Twilight felt incredibly uncomfortable; she needed sound going into her ears. She needed that song. She however fought the urge to appear deluded to her friends and made an oath to buy a record player and Davie Starr’s LP.

The countryside rolled by the window again after they made their last stop. Dash and Applejack were in giggling fits after playing around with the speed slider to make the record play fast and slow, fast and slow in quick succession. The six of them had made enough heat to take the bite out of the air, but Twilight still asked politely for the sound muffs off Rarity, even though no music was playing through them.

They slowly chuffed into the station and ground to a halt at around late afternoon. As they stumbled out onto the platform to stretch their legs off, they were greeted by a thin layer of snow. Twilight said her farewells, and after giving Rainbow her sound muffs, immediately made her way to the second hoof shop in the centre of town.

The peace and quiet gnawed at Twilight's skull as she crumped through the snow. Everywhere she looked, the sun reflecting off the polished white earth blinded her. She burst into the shop and headed straight for the counter. She stopped frantically ringing the bell after she realised she was being terribly rude. Eventually an aged brown gentlecolt slowly came down the stairs.

“And how can I help you, young missy?” he inquired with a delicate, wise smile.

“I'm looking for a record player. Oh, and those sound earmuff things.”

The gentlecolt made his way out from behind the counter and off into the bowels of the shop. He disappeared from sight, before he popped his head round the corner and bade Twilight follow him.

The shop was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. That wasn't an opinion, Twilight could feel the magic on this place. They walked past some fascinating odds and ends, Twilight felt ashamed she had never felt the urge to investigate this wonderful shop. They walked past crystal display cases of all shapes and sizes, each containing random dusty items, each different from one another. Some seemed like absolutely useless trinkets, but the gentlecolt creepily butted in.

“They all have their importance to somepony, remember that. How many ponies can you think of that are desperate for a second hoof record player?”

“Desperate?”

“Yes, Miss Sparkle. Desperate.” Twilight was beyond the point of belief, but stayed quiet as she was led deeper into the treasure trove. They finally arrived at a beautiful cupboard dresser, with carvings of ships at sea on either side, and seagulls on the doors. She had it half in mind to buy the dresser, but she was low on coin, and the record player was an absolute priority.

Out of the dresser was brought a clean cardboard box. It smelt new. The gentlecolt took a small silver knife out of his waistcoat and sawed at the tape covering the lid. Twilight peered inside and there it was. It was identical to the record player Rainbow had found back at the Castle, except this one hadn't been opened since the day it was bought.

The wood was a deep polished red, the swirls and shapes of solid gold lay untarnished. It was a truly breathtaking piece of art, for what Twilight assumed was a mere machine. There was even a pair of purple sound muffs included for free, so the box said. Yet a terrifying thought suddenly flooded her mind.

“And how much will this cost?” she asked, fearing the worst. It was in terrific condition after all.

“It is yours for ten bits.”. Twilight was truly stunned. She dug into her coat pockets and brought out two silver coins and passed them over to him. He sealed the box up again and placed it on top of the dresser.

“Will you be all right carrying this home with you, Miss?”

“Oh yes, I'll be fine... Thank you!”. Twilight levitated the box in front of her and made her way back through the incredible maze of antiques and out into the street. On the way back to the library, she made a stop at the post office to make a postal order of Davie Starr's album. She was prepared to fork out the extra bits to have it sent by dragon; the earlier she was listening to it, the happier she would be.

She hummed The Murder of Willow Marten all the way back home. She could pick out all of the individual parts and have them do what she wanted. She slowly began to create her own version of the song. By the time she had reached her street, she was full on dancing to her own head. The music crescendoed and slowed before coming to a deafening and earth shaking conclusion as soon as she had opened her front door and stepped inside.

“Hey Spike! I'm home!”. She was eager to tell Spike how the trip went, even though she had a rather less energetic time than her peers. Yet she did have breakfast with the  Princess, which sort of made up for it. But Spike was not home. Twilight took some time to remove the panic from her mind; she acknowledged Spike was a perfectly reasonable and responsible young dragon, and getting out of the library once in a while is no bad thing.

She had her thoughts to herself for far too long though, for the craving returned in force. She immediately looked for something to do, but the library was already in an immaculate state. She wasn't hungry, and she was too tired still to learn perhaps a new spell. So instead she slumped on the floor and sulked.

She tried sighing loudly. She tried moaning at the ceiling. She even screamed once or twice. Yet still that record wouldn't come any faster. She got a tune into her head of another song from the album, and went over to make herself a mug of coffee, before curling up in her favourite chair.

It was an hour before a thin square package apparated in the centre of the library, accompanied by a loud -poof-. Twilight let off a small squeal of excitement as she ravished the brown wrapping paper as if it was her birthday.

The sleeve of the record was so smooth and shiny. She delicately put the record on the floor as she shifted the box containing the record player over in front of her armchair. She gently prised open the sleeve, to be greeted by a fascinating smell. The record fitted perfectly inside the player, and the sleeve notes told her it was to be played at 78rpm. So she adjusted the lever accordingly.

And so as the needle entered the spinning groove, her imagination wallowed once more in sweet music.