Because I love my readers so much (and I know that several of them will get this on their Author Alert), I have decided to start posting this story! And, if you haven't read my other stories, please do. I hope you enjoy.
Final Fantasy VII and PlayStation are owned by Square Enix and Sony, respectively, meaning they do not belong to me. I am in no way, shape, and/or form claiming to be the owner/creator of these concepts, though I do claim any characters not apart of the original Final Fantasy VII storyline (such as Astrid and Marcus) mine. As such, I would appreciate fellow authors and readers to give credit where credit is due and not steal any of my characters and/or concepts. Thank you, and have a pleasant day. (Is it just me, or is this disclaimer seem familiar? …Probably just me.)
(Matters of an Occupational Kind)
Isn't it funny how some things turn out for us when we're growing up and getting ready to cross the threshold from the teen years to adulthood?
One minute you're in your eighth grade year, entertaining thoughts of becoming an astronaut, and then BAM!!, you're taking college prep courses in high school and the occupation of being a worker in a cannery isn't looking too bad…
At least there's less studying in that field than there is in being an astronaut.
WOOT!! TEN LESS YEARS OF COLLEGE! WORKFORCE, HERE I COME!
…Unfortunately, there are some who know right off that a job at the cannery isn't an option. They decide their occupation in the sixth grade and stick to it, doing all the appropriate research in their spare time and then going to sleep at night having nightmares about the equations and extensive words that they'll have to memorize to try to get a perfect score on the SAT or ACT.
It's these people that everyone in high school feels will go off to succeed. We're talking that we expect to see them on the list of the 'Most Fascinating Persons of Fill in a Year Here', or the major participants in the upcoming presidential elections, or something equally big and flashy.
There was a time when I considered myself one of those people.
For me, I was looking forward to a successful job in the area neurological science. Woot! Brains!
Though I wasn't sure which specific job I wanted, I knew that I wanted it to be in that general locale. I had actually told my parents about it when I was seven, and it just kind of stuck.
Just before I started high school, I started to research which classes I would need to take. I even took a few peeks at possible colleges.
Freshman through junior years went smoothly and, being born early in the year, I was beginning to entertain thoughts of graduating at nineteen and going onto college to study for about six or more years and earning big bucks, as well as leaving an important and long-lasting mark in the world. Nothing was going to stop me.
I stayed up late and studied; I pretty much gave up my social life and locked myself away; I had no time for games or extracurricular activities, so I quit my swim team and had my parents cancel my fencing lessons; I even lost a few friends and the respect of a couple of my teachers, who felt that I was taking things too far…
Then, near the middle of my senior year, something happened. I'm still not sure where it had come from or how long it had been hiding, but I had the oddest urge to drop my dreams of working in neurology and becoming a professional freelance writer.
… I know. Big transaction, huh?
It shocked me, but I brushed it off as a simple random urge brought about by my odd sleeping habits and all of the sugar and energy drinks I was consuming to help myself stay awake at night. But then it became scary: The urge wasn't going away.
When I should have been studying, I would snap out of dazes to find that I had been staring out my window and daydreaming of fantasy worlds. If only to humor myself and placate the feelings, I began to write little short stories in my spare time. Unfortunately, I became so wrapped up in writing that these 'sort stories' turned into hundred page mini-novels.
When I had written six of these novellas, I decided that I wasn't sleeping long enough or often enough, so I took a few weeks downtime and slept, devoting only the necessary time I needed to do my homework.
Then, when I went back to my study habits, I found that I was ready to quit studying completely and devote myself to writing a full-length novel. I had then stopped being scared and evolved to being downright frightened of myself.
But I found myself writing, anyway.
And it was this that led to something amazing… something fantastical… something wonderful… something romantic… something that would change my life and the lives of those I met forever…
But, I'm jumping ahead of myself. Allow me to begin in a more… timely position.
I suppose it really started that day, just before midterm…