Vinyl Scratch smiled as she lifted a small photograph in front of her eyes; its maple frame had weathered over the years, but the picture inside was still intact. Waves of nostalgia flooded over the unicorn mare, who wasn’t used to such strong emotion.

On tour, real deep feelings weren't a part of her daily life. Usually, she started off her routine by waking up at midday, greeted by the rumbling of her tour chariot. Its padded interior was soft, but it didn't help dampen the bumps and skips the large passenger cart experienced.

Only stopping to have breakfast--a Manticore energy drink--she would instantly immerse herself in her ongoing projects on her galloptop, juggling anywhere from one to twelve different tracks-in-development. For as much of a mess she looked like at times, her mind was intricate; always working, always thinking.

Hours later, she would notice the absence of the jolting inside the tour cart. Downing another caffeine saturated beverage, she would enter the arena, stage, tent; wherever she happened to be playing that evening. She'd flip through a few pages of information as she entered her private room, forcing herself to remember where she was performing at.

An hour or two after that, it was show time. Walking out towards her array of turntables, mixers, studio speakers, and other types of musical equipment, she'd briefly scan the crowd of thousands of ponies who were watching her every move. The strobe lights were already moving, reflecting off her trademark amethyst glasses as she put on her headphones.

She'd shout out to the crowd, most of the time remembering where she was. A few regretful instances, she'd forget where she was playing at; or, worse yet, call it by a different name. If all went smoothly, however, she'd start the first song and watch in triumph as thousands of ponies danced and cheered.

As her signature stop-and-go beats roared through the massive, amperage-fed active speakers, Vinyl would crack open another Manticore energy drink. The harsh lemon-lime taste had grown on her, pumping artificial vigor through her veins. Head bobbing with the song as thousands of neon lights lit up the crowd, she began working on beat matching the next track. The night would carry on as she set up song after song, occasionally tweaking knobs and sliders on her mixer to help her music transition seamlessly from one song to the next.

Afterwards, when the show had ended, the mare known by millions as “DJ P0n-3” would most likely go back to the tour chariot. Sometimes, she might end up wasted at a nearby bar, barely making it back to the cart on her hooves. Falling asleep in the early morning, after either working on her new music or an intoxicated episode, she'd repeat the process all over again.

-~-

Finally finding enough free time to return home, looking at this photograph unleashed a surge of memories through her head. It almost hurt, trying to sort through the flurry of them all. It was all because this picture showed the genesis of her passion for music.

Sitting next to a pine tree, it was Vinyl as a filly on the morning of Christmare day. Her face was beaming with delight, her ruby red eyes almost shining. She hugged a single present, wrapping around it barely with two small forelegs. In her arms was a record; the first one she'd ever gotten.

She had been pestering her parents about it for months, insisting on getting the item she was named after. It didn't matter what songs it contained, as long as she could get her hooves on one.

Along with the record, her parents bought her a turntable that played into a speaker. The days of the old phonographs were long past even her parents, so they paid the extra bits to buy their daughter a way to play her gift.

For days on end, Vinyl would play the record, admiring the sounds flowing from the speaker. It was Vivalneigh's Four Seasons, a classical work that had a part for each of the four periods in the year. Hardly a match for the music she'd later be famous for, but at the time, she fell in love with it. She loved how the violins played so elegantly, the notes almost drifting on the air.

For the next few months, she spent every bit she had towards buying more music. She became a familiar face at her neighborhood musical shop, the store's owner, Mr. Clef, knowing her by name.

Mostly what she bought was classical, but pieces of jazz and blues found their way into her auditory library. She would listen as she did homework after school, before going to bed, or anytime she had nothing else to do. It had become an integral part of her life.

However, as much as Vinyl loved to listen and admire the music, seldom did the thought of seriously playing an instrument cross her mind. To her, it felt limiting; listening to how a song came together was always more interesting than how well a single instrument played.

-~-

Vinyl set the photo down, her horn glowing as she rummaged through a small cabinet, where she found the picture to begin with. Old drawings, birthday cards and small toys were tossed out, her horn glowing fiercer as she desperately hoped she could find what she was looking for.

“Aha!”

A wrinkled and slightly-smudged stack of papers floated out, held together by a single staple. Messy, large hoofwriting was scribbled down the paper, sometimes nearly incomprehensible. The paper crinkled slightly as it rose up to her face.

Her eyes read a single line in large letters, written across the top:

It was Vinyl's final assignment she had to do in order to graduate school. It was nearing the end of their last year, and the same paper had been assigned to graduating colts and fillies for as long as anypony could remember. It wasn't even graded, but it served as a way to get their students to think about what to do once they were out of school.

Surprisingly, for her upbeat and enthusiastic nature, Vinyl was the last pony to receive her cutie mark. She always assumed it had something to do with music, but that was as vague as knowing you were going to be special with food, or nature.

Sure, the anxiety and sadness about not finding her special talent would dishearten her as a filly, but she would always go back to listening to her happier songs. It was as if the music was like pulling a plug on the drain of a bathtub, which was filled with darker emotion.

“That’s a big question.” Her paper read, “Asking what I want my life to be like is awfully hard when I haven’t even got my cutie mark yet. Its like baking a pie without the recipe.” Vinyl smirked, remembering how she never quite cared for spelling. “I have always known that I would like to do something in music, but I haven’t figured exactly what it is yet.” The writing was almost down the whole page now, her hoofwriting infamous for it's sloppy and large format.

“I just wish I could know soon because...” Vinyl flipped the page, “...my parents are sending me to a big school next year to learn more about music like they did. It would be weird going to a school about music and not knowing what sort of music I should be learning. My parents learned how to make and compose songs, but I don’t know if that’s what I want to do.”

Vinyl flipped to the last page, grinning as she begun to realize how she had yet to answer the initial question. “All I do know is that when I find something I am supposed to do I want other ponies to enjoy it to.”

The white mare sniffed, blinking back tears. She realized that she probably had done what she set out to become. Although some considered her compositions, her work to be uncultured and rebellious, the sight of thousands of ponies enjoying her performances trumped it all in an instant.

Oddly enough, her cutie mark had appeared later in the night after she wrote her final paper. Although she was quite impulsive, she was no stranger to reflecting and getting lost in her own thoughts. Some nights she would spend hours staring at the ceiling from her bed, losing track of time as she explored the unfathomable depths of what her mind could conjure.

That night was one such night, arguing with herself over what her special talent could be. She mentally read over her writing, a single line standing out among the rest, “My parents learned how to make and compos songs, but I don’t know if that what I want to do.”

'Perhaps that is what I want to do.' She had thought. 'I've never really wanted to learn an instrument before... But I've always wanted to make music.'

She yawned, rubbing her eyes as the night had worn on. 'Yeah...' She had told herself after pondering the idea. 'Maybe I do want to be a composer.'

The last thought barely escaped her mind before it was shut off in the confines of sleep. Her eyes closed, breaths peacefully going in and out her nose as her chest rose with her breathing.

For barely a second, one could see a quick flash emanating from her bedroom. She wouldn't notice her cutie mark had appeared until the next morning. Although she was young, it took no Einequine to figure out that she had found her special calling in Equestria.

-~-

Back in the present, an older Vinyl Scratch was opening drawers and cabinets in a mad fury. The nearby oak-crafted desk was getting on its years, and was creaking with strain. Its drawers squeaked with age as the famous pony nearly ripped them out of place.

“No! *Wham* No! *Wham* No! *Wham*” Vinyl vented as her stress level spiked. There was NO WAY she could have lost it! One of the few physical objects she truly cared for, more than her new album, more than her signature glasses, more than all the bits in the world, and she couldn't find it.

Sighing with defeat, Vinyl's hind legs buckled in and she landed none too softly on the floor. Sitting back, she let her eyes wander across the walls and ceiling. She felt bluer than ever before, her mind slouching along at a snail's pace.

She scanned the wall above the desk, zoning out lazily with despair as she let herself act solely on her wave of melancholy, which was threatening to crush her spirits.

Then something caught her eye, her body snapping back to attention as her head took a double-take. It took her a few seconds to realize what she was seeing, but when she did, the sound of a facehoof could be heard.

Chuckling to herself, Vinyl walked up the desk and grabbed the item off the wall above it with her telekinesis. “Wow, Vinyl, that was a realllllyyyy bad.” She scolded herself nonchalantly.

Before her was a vinyl record, a generic version that one could find at any music store across Equestria. But, on the inside, this disc was more special to her than anything she had ever made. For it was her very first set of songs.

-~-

Old, mahogany doors creaked open as Vinyl peered inside the room. It was elegant and large, the floor cut from white marble, desks made to accommodate up to a hundred ponies at once. The desks were lined up and down a terraced platform, all directed towards one spot, a single podium with a chalkboard behind it.

This was the Conservatoire de Canterlot, the Royal City's very own school for higher learning of the arts. Her parents had saved money for years to be able to send her here, among using their contacts as alumni themselves to get her through the arduous acceptance queues.

One of the oldest and most prestigious higher learning centers in Equestria, Vinyl felt out of place as she saw the other students inside. They all carried themselves with an air of superiority, and talked in esteemed voices as if they had won Manebel Peace Prizes or made millions of bits each year. Her stomach sunk at the thought of studying for three years with people like them.

Vinyl opened the door and slowly crept into the room. She felt the burns of various eyes touch upon her skin, the talking dying for a second before slowly gaining back to its current level. Sighing, she carried her small study bag behind her, wrapped tightly in her magic as her nerves ran high.

She winced as she climbed the stairs, her hooves clopping noisily and echoing throughout the large room, attracting more attention to herself. Could the day get any worse?

The reason she came to this lecture hall was to study Advanced Music Theory, not to be ridiculed by the top echelons of Equestrian society.

Her head drooped as she took a step up another stair, unprepared for what was about to happen. A giant hoof slammed the step in front of her, booming across the room. Vinyl squeaked in shock, her magic field around her bag weakening.

Looking up, she saw a big orange stallion, about the same age as her. His horn glowed brightly as he ripped the bag from her grasp, chucking it down the stairs. It clattered and clanked as it fell, pens and books falling out.

“The sight of you common ponies in this place of grandeur disgusts me!” He said in a heavy accent, probably coming from the distant city of Maris. “Leave your ugly belongings outside, mule!”

Vinyl's face was a mixture of shock and hurt. She knew the ponies here were arrogant, but she wasn't expected to be hit with such a rude confrontation. It felt as if her body had tightened up; she was hardly able to breathe under the sting of his harsh words. It was all too much for her to bear. Her legs buckled slightly, her lower lip trembling as she tried to fight off tears.

“Go on, cry, you foal!” The stallion laughed. Some others chuckled, but those with even a shred of sympathy kept quiet.

Unable to hold in her emotions any longer, she began to cry. Not knowing what to do, she ran up the stairs instead of down, slamming her eyes shut as she sniffed and sobbed. Her hooves clapped loudly, but she didn’t care; she just had to get away.

In her mind was a flurry of questions; what had she done to deserve to be treated like that? How could some ponies be so mean? Where was the teacher? Why didn't anypony do anything to help? She had come into contact with bullies before, but this was different. No one had picked on her before.

As much as she wanted to keep galloping until she reached the top of the stairs, her body eventually ran out of gas and she was forced to walk, each hoof plopping along the smooth marble. Her head drooped even further than before, as she turned to a vacant seat.

“Psssttt! Hey!” A voice called out behind her. Vinyl lifted her head wearily, curious but afraid she'd have to endure more heckling and verbal attacks. “Yeah, you! Come over here!” The voice was quiet, almost as if somepony was trying to not be heard by anypony else.

Vinyl turned around, still sniffling and taking labored breaths. A cream-colored pony was sitting down at a desk, before moving aside to the next desk, so as to give Vinyl a spot to sit down. Her orange hair flowed down her side, her deep blue eyes complementing her mane. A microphone adorned her flanks, the cutie mark the same color as her tail.

Vinyl Scratch shrugged, quickly deeming this pony better than the rest. Still, she cautiously made her way over, sitting at the desk. The desks were actually a single pole holding up a slate of wood, silk pillows serving as seats.

“Don't worry,” The flame-haired pony whispered, leaning over to her, “Lyon does that to everyone who isn't like him... The brute is also a complete failure at music.” She reached beside her into her bag, which undoubtedly looked hastily reorganized, pens and paper quickly stuffed in. She fished out a tissue, giving it to the tear-ridden pony.

Vinyl smiled, sniffles still wracking her attempt. She took the tissue and wiped away her tears, although their trails still glistened on her face.

“I'm Trobairitz, but every just calls me Ritz...” She smiled at Vinyl, “You can sit next to me, if you'd like.”

“Thanks,” Vinyl's voiced cracked slightly, the last of her tears drying on her cheeks. This new pony was fairly nice, so maybe there was hope for her in this school... Maybe not all ponies were so stuck-up and arrogant. “My name's Vinyl.”

She stuck out her hoof politely, shaking hooves with her new acquaintance. “Say, you must be a Freshmare, right? What kind of music do you like to write? I assume you're taking this class to learn to compose, since you're taking it in your first year.” Ritz asked inquisitively.

“Well...” Vinyl scratched her mane. She had never really put much thought into what she actually wanted to compose. She had always like her parent's own works of classical music, and both jazz and blues never escaped her as a filly. “To be honest, I don't quite know, exactly. Nothing has really stood out to me.”

“Have you ever heard of techno before? It's a new type of music coming out of Detrot.” Ritz's expression brightened a little at the remark. Her blue eyes glimmered with rising excitement.

“Umm... No, I haven't” Vinyl's ears drooped slightly with her confession, hoping she wouldn't destroy Ritz's rising mood.

“No?” A grin rose on the orange-maned pony's face, before breaking out in a gush of emotion, “Well then I'll just have to show you!” A glowing smile spread like wildfire across her expression. “Meet me at my dorm after dinner. I'm sure you'll love it!”

She passed Vinyl a slip of paper, a number scribbled hastily across it. Vinyl looked up from it, trying her best to match her new friend's smile. “Great!” The fact that at least one pony here wanted to be nice, not trying to look down upon her, felt like a weight was lifted off her back.

An elderly stallion entered the room, his brown mane graying. The sound of his hooves on the marble floors echoed throughout the lecture hall, the attention of almost all ponies turning to him. All except Vinyl, who was almost too busy daydreaming until a soft nudge from Ritz brought her back to attention.

“Yeah, too bad we have to sit through lectures first.” Ritz said, as if reading her mind. But she couldn't help but smile, the anticipation threatening to pop her like a balloon.

Later that day, Vinyl could be found moving her head back and forth to the beat of new, awe-inspiring, borderline-ecstasy music that surrounded her ears. It provided everything she had looked for in music: commanding bass lines, melodies that worked in harmony, with transitions and breakdowns that flowed seamlessly from one part to the next, and of course, a sense of eclectic eccentricity to it that could basically be compounded to her personality and soul...

Up-beat, quick, loud, energetic and blood-pumping, Vinyl wanted more of it. Not just to listen, but to make, produce, for others to enjoy. It hit her at once, not like a boulder, but more like a cloud of mist. It conformed to her, surrounded her, and provided a layer of security... A realization of what's one’s destiny was, what fate determined them to be.

If one looked deeper into the parallels of both Vinyl and her new-found music, analyzed the sheer amount of work and effort, saw through the relentless guise of energy... One would find what truly remained. It was something that was artistic, intelligent, and thoughtful; something bound in determination and passion...

Something that was beautiful, something that cared, something that loved.

-~-

Vinyl sighed. Her hooves were trembling as she sat down at a lonely desk, parchment and quill in front of her. Nearby, those same three items she had collected were set as sources of inspiration and determination.

The picture told her to always follow what felt right, even if you didn't know exactly why. The essay told her to always believe that your dreams will come true, even if you don't know exactly what they are. The record told her that if you really wanted that dream, you had to take the first step.

Her telekinesis sputtered as she tried to pick up the quill. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, her mind being cleared of all thoughts as she let the air out again. Her mind flashed through a display of memories, as had happened many times before.

A concert, one that would appall many of her fans if she was seen there. Soft notes floated on the thick air of a thousand ponies' breaths. The crowd was dressed properly, dresses and tuxedos being the only attire. Even Vinyl was wearing a sea-colored saddle, much to her displeasure; but it was worth it.

A meeting, a congregation of some of the leading artists and performers in their own genres, coming together for a fund-raiser performance. The topic was how to raise money to help the victims of Chernappyl, but Vinyl's concentration was somewhere else. Something else caught her eye, and for all she cared, the convention's organizer could be talking about ponies in space.

At a recording studio, Vinyl was producing her newest album, and several musicians were asked by her agent to be featured in it. She was right there, separated by only a few inches of sound-proof glass. A quick smile escaped her lips as she looked up at Vinyl, before looking back down as the music escaped the chord of her instrument.

A large headline, spelling out disaster for Vinyl's career. Her album had been a resounding failure, people angry over how she slowed down her music, her fans annoyed because her usual dips, twists and dives were not present. But Vinyl couldn't care, she thought it was beautiful. Her music was a part of it.

-~-

Vinyl looked down at the parchment, noticing that it was still blank. She frowned, almost expecting something to be written. She looked over at the vinyl record nearby, the frown disappearing. A small step was all she needed, and now she had the ability to take it.

Dear Octavia,

I'm wondering if you, perhaps, have any open time to come back to the studio for a day or two. Like you may or may not have heard, many ponies didn't like the last album I produced, which included your previous recording. I, however, really enjoyed working with you and the music you created.

Therefore, I am asking you personally and sincerely if you would join me again. I want to show everypony that all types of music can be graceful, and in all seriousness, you do create some of the best music I've heard. It would be a privilege to use some of your work in a song or two.

It would mean more to me than you think.

Vinyl