Before the Tale
GS Note: This is set before My Kinda Fairy Tale. I was just reading it and saw how many times I mention past event and I though it might be fun to actually write 'em. This is going to be a collection of stories that the Maxwell Church goes through, the fun times, the hard times and the prosperous times. Told by a true expert on them, Duo of Maxwell Church. There will be very little real life breaks. It is set a few years after My Kinda Fairy Tale ended. Lol, definitely fits the SDDI rules ;) Tell me if it's a good idea or not, k?
Prologue
And So It Begins Again
I sat on the bed in my dorm room and looked around. It was empty of personal items, they were still in the lone box I had brought. It sat on the floor near the closed door. The walls were light blue. There were two rooms plus a shared bathroom and no windows. I smiled sadly. I never thought I would make it here. College. Hell, sometimes I wasn't sure I'd make it past the second grade. But here I am, alone in a tiny dorm studying to be a writer and a child counsellor. Not too adventurous, one of the things I've known I wanted to do most of my life and the other was started only a few years ago by one of my favourite teachers.
The unmade bed squeaked as I settled back on my hands. I would miss it. Heero was going to a University on the other side of the city so I would see him often enough. Trowa was out of high school and working at a local zoo. Wufei had managed to scrap together enough money to start a fund for his schooling and, until then, he is working at a centre for helping people to learn English. Merian is right beside him. Quatre had finished high school in the twelfth grade to work under his father until he was ready to take over the business. I still heard from his occasionally.
Dorothy had gone across the country to study medicine. We were still close and she promised to fly back every summer. Solo had gone for his nursing degree a year before me and was doing quite well while trying for his pilot lisence. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen are still running the orphanage with as kind a hand as they always did. It had been a shock to them when Solo moved out as he was the first child they had ever rescued, but they had gotten used to it. Now I'm gone and Matt is officially been declared the oldest orphan.
I stood up and walked over to my box of momentos. As I said, it was fairly small. Most of it is drawings Hilde had made for me, some were other stuff the kids had created over the years, posters of my favourite rock bands, a few CD's, my portfolio of writing piece and other junk. I picked it up and brought it back to the bed. Setting it on top, I started to go through the stuff.
The first thing I pulled out was my portfolio. It had my best works and ones in progress, the rest I had left as a gift for Sister Helen, winking and saying some day they might be worth something someday. I had left her my old notebook, the one that had gotten me started on this authoring pursuit. As I flipped through them I came across a barely started one. It was a story on my life. In my last year of high school, my english teacher had asked us to write an autobiography as our ISP. I had tried and tried but in the end I had written what I thought was a poorly coated story about that Church that never would portray my life. It had been too difficult as most of my earlier memories had just started to come back to me. I had still gotten a good mark but this was the true story I started and rejected.
Maybe I could write it now. It wasn't going to be graded and criticised or even read by anyone other then me. Hell, maybe it would actually help me, a sort of therapy. I pulled the pen out of my braid that I constantly kept on me and lowered it to the page. Then stopped. For the first time in my life I couldn't write. I put the notebook down and looked back into the box. There was a picture in there, one of me, Father Maxwell, Solo and Sister Helen. It had been taken before the orphanage was officially recognised. It was my favourite. It showed my family at peace.
I picked up my pen again, and began to write, from the beginning.