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Redsonga
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Author's Note:
Finally, my next fic is ready to start!
This is the official prequel to my first very first fanfic Song Of A Midnight Place and is set about seven years before that story. This story tells the start of how I think Mokey might have finally became a minstrel, and her relationship with Cantus. There will not be as many original songs in this story as in Midnight Place, but for a good reason that actually plays into the plot. Again, this fic is somewhat dark in theme, but keeping fraggles (and other races of the rock) true to themselves, has some light as well
. (This story is told in parts that each start with a line and doodles from Mokey's diary, the words of which I will also be typing for the sight impaired)
Everything Seems To Sing
By Alicorn (aka Redsonga aka Alicornmoon )
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~
Prologue
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~
The normally peaceful front room of the renowned tinker Jerome Crystal's workshop was blissfully noisy for four in the morning.
On any other day this would be more than a bit of an annoyance to his old grey and white sheepdog mutt Sprocket. But today, he happened to be making a good part of the runious as a barking mimic to his human.
"Now, fishing pole..fishing pole? Where did I put that rod? I tell you Sprocky, this is the trouble with never borthing to unpack these last two dozen boxes from the move, can't find a darn...Oh, thank you."
Sprocket wagged his tail from where he sat up, grasping an old fishing pole in his jaws and dropping it gingerly into Doc's hand.
The old man patted his head, adding the pole to the contents of three giant duffle bags that already looked as if they were ready to burst.
Sprocket barked happley going back to hunting for interesting things among the dusty boxes.
"It sure was a surprise wasn't it? That Matt Fraggle fellow saying he wanted you and I, and Ned to accompany him on one of those famous road trips his always writing Gobo about...right around the same time as our annual fishing trip to Michigan to..."
Doc eyed a large menacing looking wench in each hand and then shrugged, packing both.
"Of course, I can understand the need for a last hurrah before retirement. Company makes it easier most of all when you have a family to break the news to when you get home...All things consitered he does seem to think of us as his closest human ..and dog friends...”
Sprocket hummed along in the background picking all sorts of dog toys and adding them to a bag, ending with a stuffed chew toy that looked mysterly like a hand knitted fraggle before Doc noticed his progress.
“Oh no, we can't take all that Sprocket, we have travel light, that's the key you know...Now, did I put that portable generator?"
Sprocket whimpered as his collection was poured back onto the floor, scooping up the fraggle toy in a paw and quickly sandwiching it back into the bags messy contents when his human was looking the other way.
The picture Doc had picked up in that same moment was a framed black and white photograh of a group young faces, some of thir hair laced with flowers, in front of a well loved looking Volkswagen.
“Oh I tell you Sprocky, this is going to be just little the good old days when my college friends and I took to the road..Living on nothing but our van and our dreams..the world seemed so big then...”
He tapped the image of a curly long haired man at the center of the picture holding a pair of scissors with a cheerful gaze.
Sprocket glaced over his shoulder feeling the top of Doc's balding head in shocked horror for a moment, before going back to packing as the old inventor continued to ramble on.
“...That was the summer I gave up a future as a rocket scientist to start my first barber shop...I wanted to do something useful, something real...”
“Row?" Sprocket growled in question, resurfacing from the layers of boxes on the workshop floor wearing a pair of green and pink lensed sunglasses and peace-signing over energetically , while holding Doc's pipe in his teeth.
“Where in the world did you find those old?..Give me that!" Doc grumbled in distaste, cleaning off the stem of his pipe and giving his dog a sidelong glance.
“Oh Sprocket, don't tell me you buy into all those stereotypes..”
“Rarrwo?" Sprocket interjected raising a suspecting bushy eyebrow as he haled up a worn and faded looking box that 's contents clicked and made foreboding other sounds under the covering of an oversized tiedye shirt.
Doc's eyes went wide as he quickly took the box from his dog and whipped it out of sight in one swift movement that was surprisingly agile for a man of his age.
“Alright, I won't say we were angels, but we all really felt like we were a part of something ...headed for adventure...”
Doc's gaze glossed over again as he made a dramatic sweep of his arm toward an invisible horizon that the old sheepdog seemed to follow to, looking, dream like, off into the distance.
“What do you say to making this summer a great adventure Sprocky, just for old times sake?" He said in a pleading tone, leaning down to the dog's level.
Sprocket put a paw to his mouth thoughfully and then barked, nodding and panting as Doc reached to scratch him behind the ears.
“That's my groovy boy!"
Finally, my next fic is ready to start!
This is the official prequel to my first very first fanfic Song Of A Midnight Place and is set about seven years before that story. This story tells the start of how I think Mokey might have finally became a minstrel, and her relationship with Cantus. There will not be as many original songs in this story as in Midnight Place, but for a good reason that actually plays into the plot. Again, this fic is somewhat dark in theme, but keeping fraggles (and other races of the rock) true to themselves, has some light as well
. (This story is told in parts that each start with a line and doodles from Mokey's diary, the words of which I will also be typing for the sight impaired)Everything Seems To Sing
By Alicorn (aka Redsonga aka Alicornmoon )
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~
Prologue
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~
The normally peaceful front room of the renowned tinker Jerome Crystal's workshop was blissfully noisy for four in the morning.
On any other day this would be more than a bit of an annoyance to his old grey and white sheepdog mutt Sprocket. But today, he happened to be making a good part of the runious as a barking mimic to his human.
"Now, fishing pole..fishing pole? Where did I put that rod? I tell you Sprocky, this is the trouble with never borthing to unpack these last two dozen boxes from the move, can't find a darn...Oh, thank you."
Sprocket wagged his tail from where he sat up, grasping an old fishing pole in his jaws and dropping it gingerly into Doc's hand.
The old man patted his head, adding the pole to the contents of three giant duffle bags that already looked as if they were ready to burst.
Sprocket barked happley going back to hunting for interesting things among the dusty boxes.
"It sure was a surprise wasn't it? That Matt Fraggle fellow saying he wanted you and I, and Ned to accompany him on one of those famous road trips his always writing Gobo about...right around the same time as our annual fishing trip to Michigan to..."
Doc eyed a large menacing looking wench in each hand and then shrugged, packing both.
"Of course, I can understand the need for a last hurrah before retirement. Company makes it easier most of all when you have a family to break the news to when you get home...All things consitered he does seem to think of us as his closest human ..and dog friends...”
Sprocket hummed along in the background picking all sorts of dog toys and adding them to a bag, ending with a stuffed chew toy that looked mysterly like a hand knitted fraggle before Doc noticed his progress.
“Oh no, we can't take all that Sprocket, we have travel light, that's the key you know...Now, did I put that portable generator?"
Sprocket whimpered as his collection was poured back onto the floor, scooping up the fraggle toy in a paw and quickly sandwiching it back into the bags messy contents when his human was looking the other way.
The picture Doc had picked up in that same moment was a framed black and white photograh of a group young faces, some of thir hair laced with flowers, in front of a well loved looking Volkswagen.
“Oh I tell you Sprocky, this is going to be just little the good old days when my college friends and I took to the road..Living on nothing but our van and our dreams..the world seemed so big then...”
He tapped the image of a curly long haired man at the center of the picture holding a pair of scissors with a cheerful gaze.
Sprocket glaced over his shoulder feeling the top of Doc's balding head in shocked horror for a moment, before going back to packing as the old inventor continued to ramble on.
“...That was the summer I gave up a future as a rocket scientist to start my first barber shop...I wanted to do something useful, something real...”
“Row?" Sprocket growled in question, resurfacing from the layers of boxes on the workshop floor wearing a pair of green and pink lensed sunglasses and peace-signing over energetically , while holding Doc's pipe in his teeth.
“Where in the world did you find those old?..Give me that!" Doc grumbled in distaste, cleaning off the stem of his pipe and giving his dog a sidelong glance.
“Oh Sprocket, don't tell me you buy into all those stereotypes..”
“Rarrwo?" Sprocket interjected raising a suspecting bushy eyebrow as he haled up a worn and faded looking box that 's contents clicked and made foreboding other sounds under the covering of an oversized tiedye shirt.
Doc's eyes went wide as he quickly took the box from his dog and whipped it out of sight in one swift movement that was surprisingly agile for a man of his age.
“Alright, I won't say we were angels, but we all really felt like we were a part of something ...headed for adventure...”
Doc's gaze glossed over again as he made a dramatic sweep of his arm toward an invisible horizon that the old sheepdog seemed to follow to, looking, dream like, off into the distance.
“What do you say to making this summer a great adventure Sprocky, just for old times sake?" He said in a pleading tone, leaning down to the dog's level.
Sprocket put a paw to his mouth thoughfully and then barked, nodding and panting as Doc reached to scratch him behind the ears.
“That's my groovy boy!"
